#he is so low energy and looks thinner

[woodsfae]

ok lowkey political prediction. T-rump strokes out/has an aneurysm before the election, Vance gets historically creamed like he's a third party write-in instead of the nominee for a major party.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 1 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,192 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

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Chapter One ₊˚⊹♡

The building doesn’t exactly scream “successful podcast studio.” It surprisingly has a weathered brick exterior and rusted door number that makes you double-check the address on your phone. But this is it, according to the email, Bach & Arthur Podcast – Recording Studio 2.

You try the handle. Locked. After fishing through your bag, you find the key they sent you and slide it into the lock. It groans in protest, but after a sharp twist, the door swings open, revealing a narrow staircase that smells faintly of food.

The email didn’t mention a receptionist or anyone to meet you. It had, however, been clear about the time, 11 am. You’re determined not to be late on your first day.

At the top of the stairs, two doors face you. One has a taped-up sign reading Bach & Arthur Podcast in Comic Sans. You can’t help but smile to yourself. Professional. You knock, just in case, but the heavy door muffles any response.

Pushing it open, you step into a much larger, cluttered room. The recording setup is decent, microphones on boom arms, a grey sofa, with a blue curtain behind it. A black table, in front of the recording situation, is covered in half-eaten food, crumpled notes, and what looks like many cups of tea or coffee or whatever they have been drinking to get them ready.

“Hello?” you call, stepping carefully around an errant cable.

From behind a makeshift partition comes the sound of muffled voices, followed by a thud and a sharp “Ow!”

A moment later, two figures emerge. The first is tall, muscular, and bright-eyed, with a dark mullet that looks like it’s been perfectly combed through. He grins at you immediately, his energy warm and infectious.

“Hey! You must be the new producer!”

“That’s me,” you say, smiling as he approaches.

“I’m Isaac,” he says, offering a hand. “Welcome to our team.”

Behind him, the second figure appears, shorter and thinner but very toned, with brown hair and thick eyebrows. He hangs back for a moment, studying you intensely enough that makes you resist the urge to straighten your posture.

“You’re Lara’s replacement?” he questions, his tone polite but with a slight hesitation.

You state your name, stepping forward and shaking his hand when he finally extends it. His grip is firm, and his voice, when he speaks again, is softer.

“I’m Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say. He nods but glances at Isaac almost immediately, murmuring something too low for you to catch. Isaac smirks but doesn’t reply, his gaze flicking back to you.

“We’ll miss Lara, obviously,” Arthur says after moment, meeting your eyes again. His tone is more formal this time, like he’s trying to smooth over something. “She was here from the beginning. But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” you say, offering a small smile. You’re not sure what you’ve done to earn the slight edge in his voice, but you’re not going to let it rattle you.

Isaac claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “So, how are you with tech stuff? Mic levels, soundboards… all that fun stuff?”

“I can handle it,” you say, glancing at the recording setup. “I’ve been working on podcasts for a while now.”

Isaac grins. “Good answer. See, Arthur? We’re in capable hands.”

Arthur gives a tight smile, then leans toward Isaac and whispers something you can’t hear. This time, Isaac’s grin widens, and he shoots you a quick glance before whispering back.

You try not to read too much into it. People are allowed to have their doubts, it’s not your job to win everyone over on day one.

“Well,” Arthur says after a moment, more to Isaac than to you, “we’ve got a recording in twenty minutes.”

“You’re on it, right?” Isaac says, nudging you playfully. “Check the mics, make sure we’re not awkwardly out of frame, all that stuff?”

“Yes yes, of course,” you say, moving toward the desk.

Arthur watches you quietly as you adjust the boom arms and check the camera height and recording software. You can feel his gaze even when you’re not looking directly at him, and when he leans in to whisper something else to Isaac, you resist the urge to ask if they want you to leave the room.

But as you work, you catch something in Arthur’s expression that isn’t unkind, more cautious, like he isn’t quite sure how to fit you into their established rhythm. It isn’t hostility, just hesitation.

Isaac, on the other hand, seems determined to make you feel at home. “So, what’s the best podcast you’ve worked on?” he asks as you fiddle with the gain knobs.

“Probably Passing Notes,” you say, glancing up. “It’s all anonymous confessions. It’s like set in a classroom kinda thing, so you’d like pass notes secretly. I spent way too many late nights editing out overshares.”

Isaac laughs, the sound loud and easy. “That’s such a cool idea!”

Arthur offers a small, polite smile but doesn’t say much. As the recording time approaches, he leans over to you, his tone soft but unfortunately still professional.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says. “We have a way of… winging things sometimes, but I’m usually good about staying on schedule.”

“Got it,” you say, meeting his deep brown eyes.

Arthur nods once, then moves to the filming sofa, his movements a bit rigid but calm.

As the recording starts, you settle in behind the controls, noting the interest in science between the two of them. Arthur’s laughter is quieter than Isaac’s, but genuine when it comes. And though he glances at you occasionally, it isn’t the skeptical look you feared.

It’s more like… curiosity. A guarded one, but curiosity still.

This isn’t going to be easy. But you’ve made it through worse.

After the recording wraps, the studio settles into a quieter hum. Arthur and Isaac stand from the sofa, their usual post-show energy fading into something less energetic. You busy yourself with jotting down notes from the session, cataloging timestamps for edits, and mentally prioritising what needs to be done before uploading the final cut.

Arthur is already rolling up a spare XLR cable when he looks over at you. “I think that went well,” he says. “Thanks for keeping us on track.”

“No problem,” you say, glancing up from the soundboard.

He nods and places the coiled cable neatly on the desk. “I’ve got an edit I have to send off tonight,” he says to Isaac, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure thing,” He replies, giving him a thumbs-up as Arthur grabs his coat from the back of a chair.

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you one last time. “See you next time,” he says, his words careful.

“You too,” you reply, watching as he disappears through the door.

The room feels lighter without him, though not necessarily in a bad way. Arthur carries a weight that seems to press on the space around him, a quiet intensity that isn’t unpleasant, just… noticeable.

Isaac turns to you as you shut down the software and begin powering down the equipment. He leans casually against the desk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, his tone quieter than it had been all morning. “I just wanted to say, uh, don’t take Arthur too seriously.”

You pause, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

Isaac shifts his weight, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with a genuine look of concern. “I mean, he’s not trying to be rude or anything. He just… he’s kind of like that. Especially with new people. He’s not big on change, you know?”

You nod, turning back to unplug one of the microphones. “I got that impression.”

“It’s not personal,” Isaac says quickly. “I promise. He really liked Lara, and he’s probably just… figuring out how to adjust to not having her here.”

You hesitate, then smile faintly. “That makes sense. I wasn’t expecting him to roll out a red carpet or anything.”

Isaac laughs softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah, but I know how he can come off sometimes. He’s actually a good guy, I swear. It just takes him a minute to warm up to people.”

“Well,” you say, straightening up and meeting Isaac’s eyes, “I’m not in any rush. I’m just here to do my job and make the podcast sound good. If he comes around, great. If not, I’ll survive.”

Isaac grins. “That’s it man. Honestly, I think he’ll get there. He’s just— what’s the word? Particular. And maybe a little protective of the pod.”

“Protective, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Isaac scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. “This whole podcast thing was kind of his baby at first. I just showed up for the jokes. But Arthur? He’s all about the details. He’s, like, scary good at making things better, except when it comes to people.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Good to know.”

Isaac smiles, then gives the desk a light tap. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, seriously. It’s nice to have someone new around. Keeps things interesting.”

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening. “That means a lot.”

“No problem.” Isaac pushes off the desk and stretches. “Anyway, I’ll let you finish up. First day down, how’re you feeling?”

You look around the now-empty studio, cables half-coiled, the faint smell of their breakfast still lingering in the air. “Good,” you say finally. “I think it’ll be a good fit.”

“Good answer,” Isaac says with a grin. “See you next time.”

“See you,” you say, watching as he slips out the door.

The quiet returns as you finish shutting everything down, your mind replaying the day. Arthur might have been a bit off, even a little distant, but Isaac’s reassurance reminds you it’s all okay.

This isn’t going to be easy. But, somehow, you feel a little more confident that it will work out.

The chill of the November air nips at your cheeks as you walk home, hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. The sun is already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and gray. Your breath comes in small, visible puffs as you navigate the uneven pavement, your thoughts circling like restless birds.

Arthur doesn’t hate you. You’re almost sure of that. He’s been polite enough, friendly, even, in that formal way people are when they’re trying not to be unkind. But there’s something in the way he watches you, the quiet whispers to Isaac, the slight hesitations.

He’s not sold on you.

And that’s not a crime, of course. People don’t have to like you. You know that. You know that. But the thought still worms its way under your skin.

What if he doesn’t think you’re good enough? What if he thinks you’re messing up an important rhythm they’ve spent months building? You’ve stepped into something that’s already been established, something Arthur clearly cares about deeply, and now you’re supposed to make it better, or at least keep it from falling apart.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, kicking at a stray pebble on the pavement. You did your best today, and Isaac was kind, even reassuring. Still, the weight of Arthur’s cold interaction presses on you, and you can’t shake the gnawing feeling that you’re already letting someone down.

It’s not a long walk to your flat, but the cold makes it feel endless. By the time you reach the old brick building, your fingers are numb and your shoulders tense. You fumble with the keys, finally managing to push the door open and climb the creaky stairs to the second floor.

The familiar smell of tomato soup and bread greets you as you step inside. Your flatmate, Emma, is perched on the arm of the sofa, scrolling on her phone with a steaming mug in hand. She glances up as you enter, her light curls bouncing.

“You’re home,” she says lightly. “How was day one?”

You kick off your boots and shrug out of your coat, the warmth of the apartment already seeping into your frozen limbs. “It was… good,” you say, though the words come out slower than you intend.

Emma raises an eyebrow. “Good doesn’t sound convincing.”

You sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the sofa next to her. “I mean, I like the job. The studio’s fine, the setup’s fine, Isaac is nice. But…”

“But,” she prompts, her eyes narrowing.

“But I think Arthur doesn’t like me,” you admit, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Arthur?”

“Co-host. The one people say is like lowkey autistic.” You rest your chin on your knees. “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was polite. But he wasn’t exactly warm, either. And I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m already not meeting whatever expectations he has.”

Emma tilts her head, looking at you. “So, you’re worried you’re not living up to the standards of a guy you just met, who might not even have an issue with you in the first place?”

You groan. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she says, setting her mug down. “You just care too much what people think. You’re, like, constitutionally incapable of being okay with someone not liking you.”

You shoot her a look. “That’s not true.”

“Name one person who doesn’t like you,” she challenges.

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Exactly.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I just don’t want to mess this up. It’s a good gig, and I don’t want to make things weird between them, or worse, feel like I’m ruining something Arthur obviously cares about.”

Emma leans back, crossing her legs. “Okay, real talk? You’re overthinking. It’s your first day. If you went in there, did your job, and didn’t, I don’t know, accidentally set the studio on fire, then you’re doing fine. Arthur will come around. Or he won’t. Either way, you’re not responsible for his feelings.”

“I know,” you mumble, though the knot in your stomach doesn’t quite loosen.

“You’re good at what you do,” she says, her voice firm. “And if they hired you, they obviously thought you’d be a good fit. Just give it some time.”

You look at her, her confidence in you unwavering, and manage a small smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” she says, picking up her mug again. “Now, you want soup? You look like you just walked through a blizzard.”

“It felt like it,” you admit.

She grins. “Then sit tight. I’ll grab you a bowl.”

As Emma disappears into the kitchen, you let your head fall back against the sofa and close your eyes. She’s right, you’re overthinking. Probably.

Still, the memory of Arthur’s quiet glances lingers, and you can’t shake the feeling that winning him over might take more effort than you’d anticipated.

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the radiator. You lie on your side, staring at your phone on the nightstand, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Sleep isn’t happening, not with your brain circling the same thought over and over: Did I mess up today?

Arthur’s neutral expression haunts you. Polite, sure, but distant. Detached. The whispering to Isaac. What were they saying? Are you just reading too much into it?

Frustrated, you grab your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen. You haven’t texted Isaac before. Your correspondence has been strictly email so far, but he included his number ‘in case of emergencies.’ This isn’t an emergency, not technically, but maybe a quick message would help put your mind at ease.

You hesitate. What if you sound unprofessional? What if you’re overstepping? You chew your lip, then shake your head. Better to clarify now than let it eat away at you.

Taking a deep breath, you open the messaging app and type:

You: Hi, Isaac, it’s your new producer for the podcast. I just wanted to make sure this is the right number?

You hit send before you can overthink it. The message sends, and you stare at the screen, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

The reply comes quickly, too quickly for someone who should probably be asleep:

Isaac: Hey! Yep, this is me. What’s up?

You exhale a small breath of relief. One hurdle down. Now for the awkward part.

You: Thanks for confirming. I hope this isn’t weird to text, but I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to help make things feel less awkward with Arthur?

You stare at the screen after pressing send, your stomach twisting. Should you have phrased that differently? Should you have even asked? But before you can spiral too far, Isaac replies.

Isaac: Oh man, you’ve been thinking about that, huh?

You: Yeah a little, I guess. I just feel like there’s some tension, and I don’t want to mess up the dynamic you guys already have.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message comes through.

Isaac: Okay, first off, you’re not messing anything up. I promise. Arthur’s just Arthur.

You: That’s what you said earlier.

Isaac: Because it’s true. He’s like that with literally everyone at first. Even me.

You blink at your phone.

You: Really?

Isaac: Yeah. When we first started the podcast, it took him, like, three months to stop calling me Isaac during recordings. Said Bach ‘felt too informal’.

You laugh softly, the mental image of Arthur trying to keep things strictly professional easing some of your tension.

You: That’s actually hilarious.

Isaac: Right? It took forever, but he loosened up eventually. He always does.

You hesitate before typing your next question.

You: So, do you think there’s anything I can do to make it easier? Or should I just wait it out?

Isaac’s reply takes a little longer this time, but when it comes through, it’s warm and reassuring.

Isaac: Honestly, just keep being you. Do the job, don’t take his quietness personally, and give him time to adjust. If you try too hard, he’ll probably notice, and that’ll just make things weirder.

You: That’s fair.

Isaac: And hey, if he ever does cross a line, which I doubt, just let me know. I’ll handle it.

You smile at that, grateful for Isaac’s kindness and his willingness to smooth things over.

You: Thanks, Isaac. I really appreciate it.

Isaac: No problem. And don’t stress too much, okay? You’re already doing great. I can tell.

The reassurance settles something in your chest, and for the first time that night, you feel like maybe everything will be okay.

You: I’ll try. Thanks again. Goodnight!

Isaac: Night!

You set your phone down and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The knot in your stomach is still there, but smaller now, less overwhelming. Isaac is right, you just need to focus on doing your job and let the rest work itself out.

With a sigh, you pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes, determined to get at least a little sleep before tomorrow.

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Chapter Two

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a/n: i hope you guys like the idea of a slow burn !! i’m really excited to continue this story !! they will come out in between my other fics !! LOVE U GUYS <33 and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates !!

[peppermintquartz]

Explicit.

Yes, with the Daddy kink.

*

"God, I hope so."

Tommy can't believe those words left his mouth, but what is a guy to do when Evan Buckley is sitting so close looking delectable?

Evan only gazes at him, smiling in a way that seems to be hinting at something naughty. Tommy refuses to squirm in his seat. He's thirty-nine years old, he's not going to be a shy little prude about what he likes. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirts and the leather cuffs.

"I don't know, Tommy," says Evan slowly, spearing some salad on his fork, "I may need some persuading to, uh, open up to you more about my daddy issues."

He chews and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Okay, that's it.

"Challenge accepted." Tommy feels a slow heat building at the base of his spine, but tucks that away for now. The dinner is really good and he's not about to deprive Evan of the energy he'll need. And Tommy is going to make sure Evan expends a lot of energy.

They chat about other matters: about flying for the army versus flying for the fire department, about bartending, about how Evan sued the fire department for wrongful termination ("yes, I was on blood thinners, and yes, I'm still very careful"), about the first car Tommy restored.

By the end of the meal, Tommy is less concerned with what they're talking about and more concerned about Evan's wine-stained lips and dark eyes. And from the way Evan's foot is rubbing up and down Tommy's calf, he thinks the younger man isn't interested in conversation any longer either.

"Let's clean up," Tommy suggests. He doesn't mean to drop his voice further, but the words come out in a low rumble. Evan's eyes darken even more.

They load up the dishwasher together, Tommy knowing enough about Evan not to usurp the task. When Evan closes the door to the machine and starts it up, Tommy reels his boyfriend in and says, "Good boy."

Evan swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I just put some plates in the dishwasher. That's hardly difficult."

"True," Tommy allows, then swivels Evan around to face the sink, where the salad bowl is sat. "Wash that now, hmm?" He keeps his hands on Evan's hips as Evan washes up quickly, and firmly pins him against the counter when he takes the bowl, his arms going around his boyfriend to dry the wooden bowl and set it aside.

"Tommy?" Evan sounds a little breathless. "What are you..."

"Shh. Good boys don't interrupt." Tommy turns him around again, noses along Evan's jawline and breathes him in. He flicks his tongue out and plays with Evan's earlobe before biting softly on it. Evan shudders and moans, wrapping his arms around Tommy's waist and shoulder.

Tommy feels his pulse kick up another notch. He pushes a thigh between Evan's knees, and gratifyingly Evan allows it. Tommy needs to get closer, and reaches down to hook one leg up. Evan goes along with it, gasping when Tommy starts licking and sucking on that soft spot under his ear. He's hard against Tommy where their groins are pressed together, and his fingers are digging into the older man's back.

"Alright, baby, do you want it here or on the bed?" Tommy growls. He wants it to be good for Evan, he needs it to be good for Evan. He needs to see Evan undone completely.

"Bed," Evan says.

Tommy begins to move, then pauses. A wicked little smile crosses his face and he leans back to make sure Evan can see it. "That's not how you answer nicely, Evan."

Evan is flushed and his pupils already wide with lust. His mouth - and what a pretty, pretty mouth, Tommy wants to do all kinds of filthy things to it - is open, his breathing labored. "Tommy, bed, please."

Tommy is very pleased that he's strong enough to keep Buck pinned against the counter. He rocks his hips forward, hissing at the pleasurable pressure. "Ask nicely."

"I did, I said please!" Evan protests. He tries to push away from the counter but with one leg firmly hooked around Tommy's waist, he has little leverage.

Tommy leans forward to lick his way into Evan's mouth, unable to bear another second not tasting his boyfriend. "Ask Daddy nicely now."

Evan freezes for a second. His hands tighten where he's clutching Tommy, and for a heartbeat Tommy wonders if he's spooked the younger man.

Then Evan grabs Tommy by his neck and practically inhales him with hungry kisses. With a tiny jump, he wraps both legs around Tommy and, oh, that feels very encouraging, where Evan's hard cock is pressed against his abdomen.

"Take me to bed right fucking now, Daddy." It's Evan's turn to growl, and Tommy is very glad his knees are strong enough to hold him and Evan up.

It takes some tricky maneuvering before they do end up on the mattress, Tommy having had to relinquish his prize so they can both take the stairs without falling and hurting themselves, and they're stripping with the efficiency of men who know exactly what they want right now. Evan grabs the lube from the nightstand and Tommy tears open a condom.

It never fails to awe Tommy that his partners trust him so much with their bodies, and even more so with Evan. The younger man sighs into the pillows and allows Tommy into him with minimal prep, only the faintest of grimaces on his face where it may sting. Despite every nerve telling him to claim, Tommy holds still, chest heaving and arms trembling with the effort not to just thrust into that slick, hot tightness.

Evan's eyes flutter open. His pupils are blown and his lips redder than before. "Take me," he whispers. "Take me hard. I wanna feel it for days."

Tommy smacks Evan's thigh lightly. "Ask properly."

Evan licks his lips, a look of mischief fluttering over his face. His cheeks are pink and his hair fluffed up. "I don't want to."

The downfall of saints, this one, Tommy thinks, and thrusts, once, to remind Evan exactly who's in charge, and begins to pull out. "Really? Then I guess I'll just take a nap instead-"

"Wait, no, Daddy," Evan gasps, and his cheeks flame even darker with want.

Tommy is shaking inside with desire but he holds still. "Ask. Properly."

Evan blinks up at him. A coy smile curves his lips. "Please, Daddy, may I have more?"

Tommy kisses him. "Much better." He flexes his hips and thrusts into Evan's hot body. It is so much better. He loses himself to the rhythm and the feel of sweat-slick skin. Evan spreads his long legs even more and wraps his limbs around Tommy, breathing encouragement and pleas for moremoremore.

Reaching between them, Tommy wraps his big hand around Evan's hard cock. "Daddy's gonna take care of you," he rasps, stroking fast and firmly, his callused hand wet with Evan's precome. Evan whimpers, fingers raking over Tommy's back. Even in the haze of lovemaking, Tommy hopes Evan will leave scratch marks. It'll be satisfying to have visible reminders of pleasure.

"Please," Evan sobs when Tommy's thumb rubs over the head of his cock over and over, the pad of his thumb pressing into the wet slit. "Please, please, please Daddy please-"

Another soft cry and Evan's spilling hot and slick all over Tommy's hand, clenching down on Tommy's cock. Tommy valiantly strokes Evan through his climax until he's limp and breathless, telling him you're a good boy Evan, such a good boy for me, and suddenly Evan has a hand buried in Tommy's hair and he's squeezing down on Tommy's cock again - whatever Evan has been reading up on to build those muscles, Tommy is going to get a subscription, it feels incredible - and then Evan is whispering in his ear, "Come for me, Daddy, show me how I've been a good boy." And Tommy's vision whites out for a second, all sensation rushing inwards and exploding through his nerves.

When his brain comes back online, he realizes he's lying on his boyfriend like a huge immovable rock and carefully pulls out to roll to the side. Evan makes an unhappy sound as Tommy releases him from his weight, but snuggles closer once Tommy's got rid of the condom.

"I know I liked that," Tommy mumbles, his eyelids growing heavy from the post-coital hormones. "But was it good for you?"

"Yeah, yes it was," Evan replies, sounding just as sleepy. He drapes a long leg over Tommy's. "We'll be stuck together if we don't shower though."

Part of Tommy wants to say he doesn't fucking care, but another part knows that Evan won't appreciate the discomfort. He grunts and levers himself up onto his elbows.

In the dim light, Evan's an adorable, debauched angel with mussed hair and flushed skin. Tommy wishes he were twenty again, just so he can go one more round with Evan immediately.

"We can shower together," he says instead, and gets a sweet kiss. Then he adds with a hopeful bat of his eyelashes. "Shower sex?"

Evan raises his eyebrows. "We'll see if you're... up to it." With another twinkle and smirk, he tacks on, "Old man."

Delighted, Tommy smiles and grabs Evan's wrist. "Challenge accepted."

[thehypnone]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 3

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mentions of Vomiting, Medical Quintessence, Panic Attack, Nausea, Food Repulsion, Gender Dysphoria, Very Brief Abortion Talk, Hurt/Comfort

“Does that fit what you were thinking?” “I’m…actually pregnant?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss all but runs to the infirmary, wanting to get there before he changes his mind.

He feels stupid for even considering it.

Hoping?

Either way, something is really wrong with him and he has to get himself checked out.

The way he stumbles into Omega’s office makes the older ghoul jump behind his desk and furrow his brows; instinctively looking for injuries on Swiss “Are you okay, what’s on fire? Or who’s on fire?”

“No, no fire–or no, fire’s in my fucking guts and it’s driving me crazy,” the multi ghoul pants, slumped against the door frame. The trip shouldn’t have tired him as much as it did, “like–you know how you’re hungover and want to puke, but–that’s just nausea, but I’m rarely nauseous and lately it’s been just, oh my lord below, you know, it’s like–”

“Swiss…”

“No, no, I know, I know I sound crazy, but–my skin feels weird, my insides feel weird and my everything is so messed up,” he continues his ramble, “and I feel like absolute shit, you know when it’s like a train ran you over? Yeah, so I usually don’t care, but now I’m losing my mind ‘cause I’m low-key scared and now–now I’m here and Mountain’s asleep ‘cause I think I left a lung in the fucking toilet so–”

“Swiss!” Omega’s raised voice finally snaps the multi ghoul out of it. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, can you just–check me out for…everything?”

“Everything?” Omega questions. “Why won’t you just tell me what your concerns are?”

“Because even though I doubt it’s possible my brain decided to fixate on it and I don't want to make even a bigger fool out of myself, so just please, scan me over with your quintessence, or something, and just tell me what you see.”

The quintessence ghoul is currently more concerned with the other’s mental state, rather than his physical one, but he will do what Swiss is asking of him. After all he’s there to help, whatever the issue may be and however he has to discover it. Omega stands up and points at an empty gurney on the other side of his office. “Why don’t you sit down, try to relax a little.”

Swiss obeys, although it’s not so easy to just relax. He tries his best, taking a few deep breaths as Omega puts on his glasses and walks up to him.

“I’ll put one hand on your shoulder and the other one on your chest, is that okay?” Swiss nods. “Alright, then, let’s see…”

Omega’s quintessence flows into him and makes his entire body tingle as it travels through his veins and along his nerves and penetrates layer after layer of skin.

Swiss becomes uncomfortably aware of every single piece of his mortal vessel and tries to take a deep calming breath; it only makes him strangely aware of his lungs, too.

It’s the longest five seconds in the multi ghoul’s life, he thinks, as he feels the other inspect him whole, looking for–

Omega tries to stay professional and not make his internal shock external.

Surely not, it can’t be.

He grits his teeth and goes to double check.

How…?

“Oh…” he finally mutters, pulling back.

“‘Oh’ what!?”

“Do you, uh…” Swiss doesn’t like Omega’s confused and frankly scared expression at all, “do you want to see what I see?”

“Uhm, I guess…” He shrugs, chuckling nervously and trying his very fucking best to keep his composure. Omega steps forward and puts his hands on either side of Swiss’ head, fingers pressing lightly into his temples.

“Okay, let me in.” Swiss does—it’s easy; the anxiety is making his walls lower and thinner. He closes his eyes to focus on the image the quintessence ghoul is showing him. “So this is how I normally see a ghoul, the light is their energy, their essence. Not a soul, just…energy.”

It’s like a vague human-like shape in a darkness, in a void. The edges of the form are fuzzy and it’s filled with a faint colorful light, but what stands out is a blindingly bright orb of pure light in the middle of the shape’s chest.

“Okay. What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing. But this is how I’m seeing you now.” The image shifts and…three more lights, so much duller and smaller than the first one, show up in the area of Swiss’ lower abdomen.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Omega sighs, “does that fit what you were thinking?”

“I’m…actually pregnant?” Swiss chokes out. The words nearly get stuck in his throat, because…how can it be real? “With three kits?”

“You are,” the quintessence ghoul confirms and the ringing in Swiss’ ears gets deafening.

“H–how is that even possible?” he hears himself asking, but he can’t feel his mouth moving.

“Good question. I have no idea, I guess the best answer is that you’re a walking miracle all over and Lucifer decided to grant one more. Or rather three.”

“Can you, uhm…” his voice cracks; this is getting way too much too quickly, “can you get Mountain for me?”

“Of course. Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, I–I suppose…he’s the only one who–who gets in there,” Swiss admits, making Omega chuckle despite everything. He’s trying to stay composed, but this is a first one for him, too. He’s not as scared as the multi ghoul—obviously—but it’s…tense.

Swiss is absolutely freaking out.

“Holy–holy shit, what the fuck, oh my–oh Lucifer, what the fuck!?” he mutters under his breath. Or maybe it’s just in his head?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before they hear the door to the infirmary slam open.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my heart, are you alright?” Mountain barges in demanding answers; a strong smell of worry reaching Swiss and Omega before the earth ghoul himself does. He’s completely disheveled; it’s clear he jumped straight out of bed to come for his mate.

Swiss just stares at him, though, with glassy eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Mountain gets even more worried—it’s rare his mate is speechless. He turns to the other ghoul in the room, “Omega, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, he’s just…a little overwhelmed,” Omega replies. Mountain gets to them and immediately takes Swiss into his arms. “Swiss, do you want to tell him yourself or do you want me to?”

The multi ghoul tries to come back to earth, get himself together to consider the question that he’s just been asked.

“I–I can, uh…” he stutters and pauses to take a big breath, “I’m–I’m…pregnant. We’re…we’re having kits, big guy.”

Mountain’s jaw drops. “Wh–this…what? Are you–you’re not joking, right? That would be really cruel, please, my heart, tell me it’s not a joke, I need–we’re gonna have kits?”

His immediate excitement changes the air in the room and gives Swiss something…something positive to cling to. Physically he is clinging to Mountain already, but he finds breathing a little easier now.

“We’re gonna have kits,” Swiss confirms. His mate’s heart is pounding and he looks between the multi ghoul and Omega with his mouth agape.

“You’re both in shock right now, and understandably so,” the quintessence ghoul says, “so I’ll let you go and just text Mountain some information. I’d like to see and talk with you both about some important things to consider as soon as you feel up to it, okay? Now off you go, I’m prescribing a good meal and long sleep for both of you.”

Swiss doesn’t really register leaving the infirmary, walking through the Abbey’s corridors and getting back to the Den. Mountain all but carries him all the way, chewing on his own lip; he’s an absolute wreck inside, but has to stay strong for Swiss right now. He’ll give himself to all the emotions later, when his mate is taken care of.

They get to the ghoul’s kitchen and the smell of food makes Swiss realize where he is. It makes another wave of nausea hit him, though, and he only takes a few sips of water Mountain poured him.

“I can’t eat now,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Mountain sighs, rubbing his back as he drinks, “it’s, uh…very stressful right now.”

Swiss nods and empties the glass. He only speaks again when they’re in their bedroom.

“How do we…what about the pack? They’ll notice, how can we–we can’t not tell them.”

“Not now, darling, try not to think so much, let’s try to get some sleep.”

He’d like that—he’s exhausted—but there’s so many things flailing around in his brain; it’s impossible not to think. Swiss doesn’t even notice he starts getting hotter and breathing heavier, but Mountain does; unfortunately familiar with his mate’s panic attacks.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he grabs him with care to get his attention. “I’m scared, too, look at me, darling.”

It’s a little while before the multi ghoul can make eye contact, but once he does the fresh-grass-green of Mountain’s eyes makes him grow calmer and calmer by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters before falling face first into his mate’s chest. He feels so stupid for all of this.

“No, my heart, don’t be,” the earth ghoul reassures. “I told you: I’m scared, too, but we’ll be alright.”

The embrace of Mountain’s strong arms makes Swiss’ exhaustion finally take over and he feels his eyes closing. The earth ghoul manhandles him into a cuddling position and holds him close.

A feeling akin to disgust creeps up on Swiss before he manages to fall asleep, though. It’s that strange sense of dread and wrongness he knows very well. It’s telling him this is all wrong.

Men don’t get pregnant, so it must mean he’s just—still—a girl in a pathetic disguise.

Swiss swallows against the bile rising in his throat, focuses on his mate's heartbeat under his ear and wills himself to fall asleep.

He wakes up calm. He doesn’t have the urge to throw all his guts up—at least at the moment, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He stretches a little and snuggles further into Mountain and–

Oh. It’s not morning and–

That happened.

The multi ghoul tenses up and his hands instinctively clench to grab at his mate. He’s awake and kicks up a purr in an attempt to soothe Swiss a little, “Hey, darling, it’s okay, don’t stress.”

Swiss doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath of Mountain’s fresh scent—the smell of the first days of summer. It’s okay.

“Ready to talk?” the earth ghoul asks after a while, when Swiss is fully awake again. He nods, sitting up.

“First of all, uh…I got that text from Omega when you were asleep and he said it’s not too late to…you know,” Swiss’ stomach turns a little at the unsaid part. He appreciates having the choice, but he can’t. “You don’t have to keep them.”

“I want to, I can’t get rid of them! I love them already, they’re our babies,” he admits and the earth ghoul’s chest warms up at the words. “And you got so excited!”

“I, uh…well, yes, I did,” he chuckles nervously. “I've always wanted to have kits and I want nothing more than to have them with you, but you have to be ready. You can't make this decision because of how I feel, it's your body.”

“No, I know, but…” Swiss sighs and drags a hand down his face. He’s so tired. “I want them, I really do.”

“Okay. Well, then, we’ll do our best to keep you safe and comfortable so that their growing spot is all cozy and when they’re here we will be the best parents that they could ever have. Right?”

“Right.” The multi ghoul nods and…that’s it. Their talk is done, their decision is made. Swiss gets a thought, though, “But what if–”

Mountain doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off with a smile on his face. “We’ll worry about ‘what if’s if any show up. Let’s go try to get some food in you now, alright?”

“Okay…” Swiss agrees, even smiling slightly himself. They climb out of bed and put on some presentable clothes to head down to the kitchen. Swiss really doesn’t want to see anyone, so they quickly grab something and all but run back to their room to hide again.

“Do you want to see Omega again today so all the inevitable stress is packed into one day and then you can relax when that’s done?” the earth ghoul asks once the food is gone. Swiss didn’t eat much—his appetite nonexistent the last few days—only nibbled at stuff here and there, but it’s better than nothing.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agrees, so Mountain texts the quintessence ghoul. He asks him to come down to the Den, to have the talk in the comfort of their own space, for Swiss’ sake. Omega, of course, doesn’t mind and is happy to do it like this.

The earth ghoul gets a chair by the bed for him and once settled in it, Omega begins his lecture. “Ghoul pregnancies are really short, only seven months. The kits come out tiny, but they grow rapidly for the next while and at around six months old they slow down and carry on like a one year old human baby would. It makes it more comfortable for a ghoul pregnant with a litter to carry on in the Pits, not be slowed down much and weaker.

However, this can look very differently Topside. This has never happened before and even though I know all about pregnant ghouls and kits in Hell and all about pregnant humans on Earth, I have no idea what to do with you.

What I know for sure is that you need a lot of rest, no weed, alcohol or caffeine. We’ll be meeting once a week to check on both you and your kits. Their elements will be a mystery until they’re born, but it seems like there’s a lot of water to them. I just hope for your sake they won’t take much earth or quintessence, at least not now.”

“Why?” Swiss asks with a frown. He doesn’t want to think about all the other things Omega has just said, it’s all so…scary and so much.

“Because it would be very dangerous for all parties involved if they got as big as a typical earth or quintessence kit,” he explains. The multi ghoul can feel his hand being squeezed by his mate. “At this point we have to be mentally prepared for anything. It’s a miracle and a mystery, anything can happen.”

Swiss and Mountain are quiet, waiting for even more scary information, but the quintessence ghoul stands up and walks to the door. “That’s, uh–I think that’s it. We should make a little group chat for the three of us and keep in contact at all times. Remember my emergency twenty-four seven number, too.”

Omega stops before he crosses the threshold and turns with a slight grimace. “One more thing…as I said, it’s a miracle. I would…wait a bit before announcing it, at least outside of the pack. As hard as it is for me to say, there’s a big chance they won’t live.”

The face Swiss makes at the words is easily the saddest thing both Omega and Mountain had ever seen. The latter brings his mate closer

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you two. Well, all five of you. I want to see those kits born and healthy in your arms,” Omega promises before leaving. The silence that surrounds Mountain and Swiss once the door is shut behind the quintessence ghoul is deafening.

“I asked the pack to give us a few days to process,” Mountain says to break it. “I didn’t say what, but you know them, nobody’s prying. They respect our need for space.”

Swiss nods and turns to bury his face in his mate’s neck.

“How about we go to the cabin for a few days?” the earth ghoul offers. “A nice week off just for us to think and relax, hm?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Swiss admits and even musters up a soft little smile. Mountain can’t see it but he knows exactly how a smile against his neck feels with his mate’s stubble.

“We’ll be alright, my heart,” he whispers into his ear, “all five of us, we’ll have a little family. Everything will be okay, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Swiss mumbles and shuts his eyes. His hand instinctively goes to his stomach—he’s been feeling the urge to protect it for the last few weeks, but it makes sense only now.

Mountain looks at Swiss’ hand splaying over his little bump and smiles; it’s all terribly scary, but he’s so excited and happy and proud at the same time. He puts his own hand over his mate’s and nuzzles his face into his hair.

They’ll be alright.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FALL ; SUGURU GETO ; 夏油傑

summary: it's loud. geto can silence it. pairing: suguru geto / f!reader ; set post-hidden inventory wc: 3.6k tags: mentions of drug reliance, sleep deprivation, darker themes, wholesome crushes, jujutsu high more like jujutsu university, texting as a plot device, hot n heavy make-out sesh included between the angst a/n: (johnny cash voice) i hhurt.... myselff... todaay....

YOU MISS NOTHING more than you miss sleep.

you crave the welcoming, black, empty bliss; the slip of the other-world passing like a fog behind your eyelids. an embrace as heavy as an anchor in a pitch colored sea. endless — rest.

the veil is thinner now, in the silence of night.

it's when the voices are loudest.

your ears ring with nonsensical chatter condensed into whispered pleading. the spirits reach out to you, hands grasping for purchase in your energy. they clamor and cling, desperate to be heard.

they talk. and talk. and talk and TALK.

... you could take the zolpidem.

the bottle on your nightstand stares at you in the bleeding red light of your clock. the sedative, crimson and etched, nearly begs to be swallowed down just as you've done every night since you were young.

but it's different now.

since the hallucinations, since the forgetting. since... since a month ago, now. since yu. since you started to wonder if all this, if jujutsu sorcery, was worth it.

the pill promises sleep. it promises unmoving silence. it may promise a ball and chain, but with it's driven stake it promises a dampened sense of awareness to the second world around you — of spirit and curse. peace.

they also promise emptiness. drifting confusion. sadness. dreams where you're all smiling again.

you roll over.

and then you watch the stars fade, and the sun rise.

suguru geto.

you find it hard to sit in his presence.

you wonder if he knows the curses he carry chatter away in your ears. you wonder if he hears them too; if their words have ever struck their mark.

he is a talented exorcist.

you are a talented investigator.

you two would work well together.

but, now — in this world — you two are hardly anything more than stars passing in the night sky.

that will change.

"you haven't been sleeping."

his voice is deep — the cadence is calming. if you focus hard, you can tune out the river of whispers that follow him like a shadow.

you turn, casting a look over your shoulder.

your eyes feel heavy. your lashes are weighed down by the hours and hours and hours of the passing days. suguru looks no better. he stalks down the hallway towards you.

you and suguru are hardly friends. more like passing acquaintances. you much preferred solitude, and you found gojo to be unsteady — and where one was, the other was close behind. gojo is capable, yes, but far too explosive for you.

after all, you listen.

what you hadn't realized is — in this moment — that suguru has been doing the same.

in your nook, nestled away in the morning sun, you're gripping your journal. in this part of the dorms, it's quieter. far from everyone, you find the energy has settled into a low hum. you can write here.

but recently, the pen scratches have become more desperate.

WHO AM I? WHO AM I? WHO AM I? W̶H̸O̴ ̴A̴M̶ ̵I̸? W̶H̸O̴ ̴A̴M̶ ̵I̸? W̶H̸O̴ ̴A̴M̶ ̵I̸? W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀ W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀ W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀

over and over again. over and over. over and over and over—

"the admins are worried," he says with a painful sort of casualness that make you wonder what his goal here is.

you nearly scoff.

you pull your knees closer and close your notebook. shame bites at your ink covered fingertips. you swallow as he sits down on the ledge beside you. his dark eyes level with the ground.

"is that so."

less of a question. more a disregard.

suguru looks up. you look away.

"you sound," he begins slowly, "like you aren't surprised."

you sit in that for a moment. you squirm under his thoughtful gaze. it's nearly painful to be watched so closely by him. suguru geto is handsome; but he is cursed. they bleed into his energy, all of the absorbed curses. they chitter and chat and bite at your senses.

"between you and i," you mutter, "maybe they should be."

he hums. you wonder why you told him that.

he claps his hands before him and leans forward onto his knees.

you wince.

"between you and i," he says slowly, "maybe they should worry about both of us."

geto stands, tucks his hands into his pockets, and watches you for a moment longer. then, without a word, he continues on down the hall towards the dim, lonely exit.

for the first time, you really watch him.

gojo is on a solo assignment.

geto arrives in masamichi's office to find you there already. there is a steaming cup of green tea in your hands. you cradle it close to your chest; this momentary pleasure is enough to make your eyes heavy.

when the sliding door rattles open, you turn your eyes towards him. you cross your legs. your skin itches. the rush of whispers that accompanies him crawls up your face.

suguru notices the wince. he settles down in the seat beside you. his hair is down, spilling over his shoulders. he smells like sandalwood.

you sip your tea.

"i'm sending you both to sawara."

sawara.

chiba prefecture is quiet.

there's the old katori shrine outside of town.

it's dedicated to futsunushi no mikoto; the kami is revered for swordsmanship. a warrior.

the shrine —or whatever has nested in its sacred walls — has been talking for a while now.

you can hear it the moment you step off the train.

geto suguru isn't far behind. your bag, slung over his shoulder, swings as he takes a long stride onto the platform. after all, he insisted.

geto nearly runs into your back; he stops short as people flow out around you. you're rooted there, your boots cemented to the yellowing tile of the station platform.

it's late now. the station's warm, honeyed lights fade into the darkness beyond. suguru can hear frogs chirping in the late summer air. somewhere, a cricket's song crescendos.

geto's eyes momentarily narrow.

"do you feel it?" he asks slowly as the doors close behind him and the train pulls away. your hair whips in the breeze. then, a breathe passes, and everything settles into quiet again.

you stare ahead, through the station.

"i hear it."

with that, you begin moving. suguru inhales, and watches you for a moment longer.

you've always been a hard read.

you're the same year as him, satoru and shoko. but you're cold. tired. you seem to thrive in isolation — no, no. no, you've forced the isolation. suguru sees that.

he's impressed you can sense the curse this far out from the location.

even for him, with his intrinsic ability to commune with them, he feels nothing but the base pulse of cursed energy. no seismic differences.

geto is pulled from his thoughts when you turn and catch his gaze over your shoulder.

his chest tightens for a moment.

the feeling is strange.

like you.

your driver drops you off at a hotel around midnight.

the pink vacant sign hums outside your window.

the sheets are stiff. the closet is musty. your bed is small. at the very least, the water had been hot.

but... suguru.

it's all you can hear.

his curses — not him. the things intwined with his spirit are gossiping in tongues ancient and unknown. they chitter and chirp and giggle and scoff and chatter and talk and talk and talk AND TALK.

you slam your pillow down over your head.

across the hall, suguru is awake.

his head is in his hands.

assignment after assignment. exorcise. absorb. again and again.

how much longer of this can he take?

again and again AND AGAIN—

by his bedside, his phone hums.

he tries to ignore it. but, another ping riles him out of his headspace. heaving a long sigh, the dark haired sorcerer leans to swipe the nokia from its charger.

satoru's name pops up on the screen, and his inbox blinks at him.

[ GOJO: ] a lil birdie told me that ur hanging with the local hot freak this wknd [ GOJO: ] how is she? freaky? ;)

geto scoffs. he's quick to type back. the charm on his phone — a gift from shoko for his birthday last year — sways. the ceramic, worn frog tinkers against the back of his phone.

[ GETO: ] don't b mean. [ GOJO: ] hey i love freaks. ask shoko. she knows. [ GOJO: ] you love freaks 2. u 2 wud b cute 2gthr [ GOJO: ] ... [ GOJO: ] ur ignoring me [ GOJO: ] HELLO!!!!!!11!! [ GETO: ] she is rlly nice. just quiet. talk 2 u tmrw :-) gnight [ GOJO: ] go get ur goodnight kiss buddy ilysm

he flips the phone shut and tosses it down to the sheets.

just in time for a series of quiet knocks to garner his attention.

heaving himself upwards, the sorcerer opens the door with a quirked expression.

on the other side of the door, you're standing there.

your face is contorted into pain.

before he can even open his mouth, you're gritting out a pained snarl.

"can you keep it down?"

geto blinks. "...i'm sorry?"

"you're loud. too loud."

his dark eyes widen.

oh.

and suddenly, as if someone has slipped cotton in your ears, there's near silence. not complete. but muffled. it's enough — and suddenly you realize that suguru understood.

he listened.

somehow, he's banished any curses from his radius. a minor exorcism, maybe? a domain? it's... fuck, it's quiet.

his eyes are soft. "i hadn't realized."

you feel as if someone has suddenly shoved a dozen roses down your throat. they threaten to spill from your mouth.

your voice is quiet.

"...no one ever does."

you're stunned into a breathless awe.

and then he smiles. "i am sorry — i hadn't realized how sensitive your technique was. it was rude of me to not consider how my own may impact you."

you're gobsmacked. you stare up at him in the dim light of the hotel doorway. you swallow. "don't apologize."

"you're not sleeping," he says as he tucks his hands into his pockets, "because of me. so, apology earned."

you shake your head. slow at first. then, you screw your eyes shut tight.

"it's not you."

"no?"

"no."

suguru crosses his arms. "you haven't slept in a while."

subconsciously you mimic him, closing off your body as you roll your head around and shrug. "you said it yourself — admin is worried."

he hums. "and nothing helps?"

normally, you'd pull away — leave the conversation. too much talking. too much noise. but it's quiet, and suguru smells like sandalwood. it must be his shampoo. something. you're rooted here under his dark gaze.

"i have sleeping pills," you mutter as your lashes flutter. his gaze is still and solid.

"do they help?"

"i see things. i... i dream," you don't know why you're telling him this, "and i feel wrong. and i forget."

his chest aches again.

"how...? how did you...?" you gesture tiredly about; you're referencing the silence. the stillness, "it's... peaceful."

geto toes the carpet with his black socks. "you listen to curses. i talk to them. at the root of it, it's that simple."

you exhale.

your shoulders relax.

you close your eyes.

"thank you, suguru."

"any time," he says.

and he means it.

the shrine has been talking for a while now.

that night, the talking becomes yelling and the yelling becomes shrieking.

you head out to the shrine at sunrise.

the dew is still fresh on the grass. the torii, a deep red, bleeds into your vision as you step through the archway and into the sacred space. ahead, the shrine stands tall.

the shrieks are louder now.

clinging to the doorway of the haiden, the prayer hall, is a curse.

beneath it lays the body of a woman. her shōzoku is splayed about her like a puddle of snow. her chest has been ripped open. pitch black hair spills down the steps, and feet away lays her kanmuri.

behind you, geto frowns.

"there's something in the shrine," you say as you hold the curses gaze.

suguru nods. this shrine's cursed energy is all wrong. there's more here than this simple manifestation.

"i'm going in," you say as you step forward, "i trust you won't take too long out here, geto."

his brow quirks. he nearly smiles. "well, well. someone's feeling rested."

you throw him a slow smile over your shoulder.

it's the first time he's ever seen it.

his chest ignites.

you disappear into the shrine, stepping over the woman's body. the curse above the doorway — with it's snapping jaws and bulbous eyes — has disregarded you in favor for geto's surge of energy.

"be careful," geto calls.

you throw him a thumbs up and melt away into the dark.

it was a ceremonial dagger.

masamichi has it locked away upon return to the tokyo campus.

upon touching it back at the shrine, it poured out centuries worth of horror. whispered depictions of death rushed up to the surface; it nearly burned to hold. the voices that accompanied it were tortured and pained. the rattle of a hundred last breaths were a choir in your ears.

suguru geto carried the exorcised parcel all the way back to tokyo in his pack.

masamichi commends you both on a job well done.

as you're leaving his office, geto nudges your arm gently with his.

you look up.

he has his phone extended.

"i meant it, y'know, about the whole 'any time' thing."

your eyes brighten.

you hold his gaze as a smile pulls at your cheeks. you take the cellphone, eyeing the new contact screen momentarily before beginning to thumb in your information.

"heyo! look who's back!"

geto turns, spotting satoru and shoko down the hall.

immediately, satoru spots you. and geto's phone in your hands.

gasp—!

A CONTACT SCREEN? a PHONE NUMBER?

... HIS BEST FRIEND REALLY IS GROWING UP...

you nudge geto. you hand him his cell back.

"here."

suguru blinks. "i'll... i'll text you."

"sure," you nod as a bit of nerves creep in as his two best friends approach closer, "definitely."

"okay," suguru is staring at you.

you're smiling.

"okay," you confirm, nodding.

you turn, offer him a slight wave. suguru swallows as you shuffle a bit, watching him a moment longer. he offers up his own sheepish wave.

he feels like himself.

it's the next day, right before noon, when you receive a text from an unknown number.

[ TXT: ] picking up lunch. want anything?

you're in the library, nested in the stacks as you pour over some readings on sorcerers throughout history and notable curse users. frankly, you'd lost interest an hour ago. but, essays are essays.

somehow, you know it's geto.

[ YOU: ] i'll owe you. [ GETO: ] don't worry abt it :-) where r u? [ YOU: ] floor 3 of the library. working on an essay [ GETO: ] coming :-)

... cute.

he brings you and onigiri and a soda. he eats with you, and you don't even realize the gentle quiet that's enveloped you both until the warmth of exhaustion creeps in and nothing is there to fight it.

suguru can see your eyes get heavier.

"take a nap. i'll keep watch."

so you do after you smile at him the way he loves.

[ GETO: ] u in the library again? [ YOU: ] u stalking me? :p [ GETO: ] bringing u lunch [ GETO: ] be up soon [ YOU: ] ur 2 sweet :,)

it's a new routine that quickly evolves.

in the library, during your study period, suguru brings lunch and you slip asleep in peaceful quiet after eating while he works. both of you, on full stomachs, settle into comfort.

suguru silences it all, and finally you can sleep.

an hour of shut eye.

it's been a week of this.

suguru rouses you gently. "rise and shine."

his hand is big and warm along your back.

you inhale sharply. daylight bombards your vision, and you pull your gaze up to see geto hovering over you. his hair is pulled back, and his lips are pulled into a soft smile.

you feel like your world stops for a second.

fuck.

"sorry," you groggily mumble, "i, uh... i guess i'm tired."

"don't be," he says — he moves to gather his papers, "you know, if you need sleep..."

his words trail off.

you rub your face and sit up straight. your back aches from the library's wooden chairs. you roll your neck and try to wring loose the crick in the muscle there.

then, you catch the meaning of his words.

there's that feeling again.

[ YOU: ] good luck on ur assignment [ GETO: ] gonna b gone about week or 2 [ GETO: ] i'm sorry. try 2 sleep 4 me pls [ YOU: ] don't b sorry [ YOU: ] just b safe :) [ YOU: ] see u when ur back :)

three weeks.

it takes three weeks.

you don't sleep.

W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀ W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀ W̵̙̦̤͌̓͝H̵͎̓O̴̟̓́͘ ̸̧̺̫̿́Ả̶̘͖͜M̵̯̪͔̀̕ ̵̺͂͜I̴̹͑?̴̮̻͔̉̀

Ḭ̷̚ ̴̲̮̺̺̥͙̠̖͉̓͜Ç̷͙̠͖̣͙̫̘̰̣̝̹̻̹͝Ȧ̴̧͖͉̙̙͖̥̥̩̼͜ͅṄ̷̜N̸̡̟̭̬͈̘̭̠̽̋̐̐͛̊͂̔́́̾̅̐͘͝ͅͅŐ̴͓͖̞͍͔͓̞̦̪́̌T̶̨̞͕̦͌͋͊̂̉̈́̆́̾̕ ̶̨̫̺̯͇̝̰̦͔̓̊̋̓̃̾̃͛̚͝͠͝K̶̘̼̫̯̀̀̾̅̋̈́̂͋̀͗́͐̀̾E̵̤̘͓̱̺̾̀͊͂͊̄E̷̢͖̝͓͍̭͚̹̘̘̣̊͊̃̋͐̋͆͂̎͛̾͘P̵̱̭̿̃̓̈͗͜͠ ̶̡̛̼̬̯̪͔͙͍͈̽͆̈́̈́̓D̴̜͉̮̠̩̫͎͒̄̐̀̎͛͂̔̒̓̈́͘̕͠͠Ơ̴͔̼͇̖͕̽̑͂̾̇͆́͆̋̈́̊̕̚͝I̵̢̙̘̠̊̏̂̔̈̒͒́͗̈́́́͘Ṉ̸̢̨̟̩̯̌̋͋̾͐̿́̋̏̀͋̄̏̈́̕G̷͎̟̬͕̤̓́͂͒ ̶̛̘͈̝̇̔̇́͑̀͂͋T̷̢̡̢̯̲̲̝̝͓̜̔̈́̄̏͊̾̃͝ͅḨ̷̢̛̺͈̣̭̲͕̙̰͓͉͎̾͛̓̓͐̎̚Į̵̻̥̯͕̙̩̙̦̘̰̲̺̦̞̆͊S̴̥͕̠̪̀̅̓̑͐̒͊̄͂͊̎͂͘̕͝ W̶H̸O̴ ̴A̴M̶ ̵I̸? ń̴͇̾ò̷̹̙ ̸̭͉̂̆ǵ̵̣ḙ̸̢͌t̷͚͓͝o̵͓̓͝ͅ ̶̩̅ḯ̴̫̝̅ ̸̹͚̆m̷̭̉̈́i̶̮̞̾s̷͈̜̕s̸̡̉͐ ̴͔̒͝g̷̰̦͌̅e̴̹͋͊t̵͖̩̑̐o��͈̝̾ ̶̛͍ẉ̷̜̌̄ḧ̴̠̼́e̷̠̹̿͌r̴̻̫͆̚ë̵͈͎́̀ ̶͕͍̌į̴͎̽̽s̵̗̘̈͝ ̸̠̀̉g̸̤͛̋e̶͔͝t̷̰͒̈o̴͉͋̒

T̴̬͋H̶̰͚͖͕́̒͐̊E̷̠̽̔̈́Ỹ̶͔̈́̊ ̷͈̱͓̽K̵̨͉͓͋͒̅̾E̷̙͗͛͂E̷̻̦̮̊̋P̸̨̬͈̈́̈́͛͝ ̶̢͕̼̒̑͗̈́T̸̨͋̇̀A̵̧̙̹͒̓͘ͅL̷͈̮̇̿̐̾͜K̴̨̳̫̾̅͘ͅI̷̛̟̾͘Ņ̶̎̎Ģ̵̞͝ ̵̯͕͓̈̉́A̸̮̗̿̋̆̕Ņ̶̹̗̒́D̸͇͓̑̐̕ ̸̢̭͕͛͝͠T̶̻̄͝Ä̶͇̻̞́͌͌̈́Ļ̵̳̫̄K̵̤̻̓̓̈́͝Í̶̧̻N̷̹̜͛́G̷͇̤̈̍

you've been pacing in your dorm for the last thirty minutes.

it's 2:38 in the morning.

you cannot sleep.

your phone is in your hand. a text is sitting there, unsent. the cursor winks.

suguru and gojo and shoko returned earlier this evening. you hadn't had time to even say hello to geto before the three were pulled into a briefing with masamichi.

you decided to try and go to bed.

that wasn't happening.

across campus, geto suguru is staring at the ceiling.

he snatches his phone the split moment it goes off. he was waiting. he would never admit that to himself.

[ YOU: ] u awake?

it's not even a minute later that your phone glows alive with his reply.

[ GETO: ] coming

he swears he's never leapt into a pair of joggers faster. he yanks a hoodie on, and trips over himself as he muscles on his trainers. he tries to be quiet, knowing full well that if gojo heard him sneaking out from his room across the hall he would never hear the end of it.

gojo has already been up his ass about you.

at least shoko is sweet about it.

he makes it across campus in record time; and he's fixing his bun when you yank your door open.

something is different.

he's different.

"hi."

his breath catches.

"hey."

there's a moment where both of you just watch one another, lips parted and breaths bated.

then, geto crosses the threshold.

he steps forward, and you take one step back. enough that he's close now. suguru is in your orbit. your hand slips from the door, and he takes it upon himself to close it behind him without looking.

the tension in the air is electric.

it's darker now; your desk lamp illuminates the room and casts inky shadows.

his eyes are bouncing across your features — and you do the same. in the privacy of your room, you feel like your heart is going to burst. in his silence, you feel dizzy.

it's different this time.

near frantic.

the room swims as you let him take a step closer.

your mouth is dry. "i'm sorry it's late — i missed you. and, just, after what you said that time in the library..."

he's toe to toe with you now, towering above you as he leans closer.

"you haven't slept."

"can't... not... without you."

his chest presses to yours. you swallow thickly as he crowds your space. his energy mingles momentarily with yours in a flash of uncontrolled touch.

"this is a bad idea," he croaks.

"you and i," you confirm, nodding as your eyes slip to his mouth, "yea."

"yea," but his hands are slipping along your jaw. he's eyeing your lips, "real bad idea."

you swear it's like someone has run a searing hot knife along your heart — it feels... good. dangerous.

BETWEEN YOU AND I, MAYBE THEY SHOULD WORRY ABOUT BOTH OF US.

"tell me you want me to leave," he mutters; his nose brushes yours and you lift your jaw to chase the touch. his eyes are dark, "tell me to fuck off."

you shake your head. suguru's mouth hangs open. he wets his lips.

"please stay."

the waves crashes down; the kiss is harsh and rough. but it's perfect. it's silent and comforting and frantic and manic and it tells you enough that you shouldn't be shocked when suguru geto falls from grace in a week's time.

but that's not now.

now is hot and messy, mouths mingling as hands root themselves in clothing. it's desperate; desperate enough that you pull him through the room by his hood. it's everything to suguru. it's what he's wanted.

you're different.

you know what it's like to suffer in sorcery.

you make him feel fine. like he isn't splitting at the seams. like he isn't disgusted by every walking bag of flesh on the street. like he isn't falling apart.

you chase his mouth when he pulls away to take a gulp of air; his back finds your door. geto is fast to knot his hands in your shirt and swing you around.

he cages you against the wood.

"this is a bad idea."

you shouldn't be shocked when suguru geto falls from grace in a week's time.

but you're not far behind.

after all, he is the welcoming, black, empty bliss; the slip of the other-world passing like a fog behind your eyelids. an embrace as heavy as an anchor in a pitch colored sea.

he is endless — he is rest.

and they were right to worry about the both of you.

[goodluckclove]

Migration Patterns - Second Prologue

What's after the last prologue? Another prologue? How experimental.

I enjoyed writing this even though it hurt a bit. It's a great intro to a young Ollie so you can all see how painfully down bad she is for Scott despite him literally being born connected romantically to another human being.

She'll tell you that everyone had a crush on Scott at some point but that is factually untrue. It was just her. She likes weird guys.

Songbird Taglist hop on hop off let me know babbyyyy

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@fukurouonthesea

Prologue

Ollie Goose Bergeron moved carefully up the path to the Kaufner house. Her natural gait and speed in the forearm crutches was negated by navigating yard clippings damp from that afternoon’s rain. It was frustrating – though not as much as falling on her ass would be now of all times. Nevertheless, by the time she made her way to ring the front doorbell Ollie was guilty and annoyed as well as very out of breath.

The door opened. Tenzin Onyilogwu appeared, smelling of paint thinner, a can of energy drink in one hand and a frown already firmly planted on her face. She stared at Ollie for a too-long while of tense silence.

“Is Scott home?” Ollie asked.

More silence. A slight twitch in Tenzin’s brow. “No,” she said.

“Fuck, Ten, I can see his skateboard by the stairs.”

Tenzin looked over her shoulder at the worn, old-school deck board propped up against the small side table behind them. She sighed.

“He’s, uh…” She began vaguely.

Ollie shifted her weight to rest more against one crutch and gestured dismissively. “He’s pissed, I know. I’m here to apologize.”

After checking whatever Tenzin felt she needed to check, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her. She took a seat on the bench on the porch and, quietly grateful to get off her feet, Ollie followed.

She brushed a few curls of golden-brown out of her eyes, heaved one braced foot over the opposite knee, and rubbed her fingers into the muscles just below her knee. She regarded Tenzin warily, searching her best friend’s demeanor for any sign of how hard Ollie would have to apologize.

It was impossible as ever. For someone who presumed themselves to be neurotypical Tenzin was near impossible to read most of the time.

“Was there a fight at band practice, or something?” Tenzin asked after some more uncertain silence.

Ollie sat up. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He stormed in and went straight to his room. Didn’t even close the front door,” Tenzin sipped her drink and fiddled with the can. “Was someone out of tune? I still can’t figure out the type of thing to really upset a musician.”

Driving here Ollie was dreading having to defend herself to Tenzin. Realizing that she’d have to explain herself first was way worse. She scanned the yard ahead of them and tried to make out the lawnmower tracks in the grass as a way to focus and build up nerve.

“I gave some – constructive feedback…” Even acting as her own legal representation Ollie couldn’t say that with full sincerity. “I made a little joke about the new song he pitched.”

She purposely avoided eye contact as she said that, but that wasn’t enough to avoid the low suck of breath Tenzin drew in from beside her.

“It doesn’t – I don’t even think that -” Ollie groaned and tried again. “He’s brilliant. He’s a brilliant artist, everybody knows that.”

“Hm.”

“But three months out of the year, every year, the only songs he wants to write are about sad birds. I mean –” she scoffed, glaring in disbelief at the dead air ahead of them. “Two-thirds of the year we’re a rock band –”

Tenzin cut in quietly. “I don’t think that’s the genre he claims to use.”

“Avant-Pop Cabaret, whatever. But from October to December every year we suddenly only make songs for – fucking – emo birdwatchers? What the fuck?”

Her anger felt good. It felt normal. Of course, she was expressing it by the sibling least likely to encourage such intense emotions. In Tenzin’s presence the fire in Ollie’s chest quickly lost oxygen and fizzled out to pathetic smoke. Ollie slumped her shoulders and leaned back against the chair.

“No wonder he’s upset,” Tenzin observed. “You know how sensitive he gets about his bird songs.”

“He’s seventeen. Why are these the songs he suddenly can’t take criticism on?”

Tenzin met her eyes, unsmiling. “You know why,” she said.

After some more pestering Tenzin allowed Ollie to come inside and make amends. Ollie was already arguing with Scott ahead of time while working her way up the stairs. She was declaring to the imaginary Scott in her head all the effort she put just to value his feelings. Driving her grandpa’s car up the stupid hill that lead to his house. Walking up stairs.

He literally had no reason not to forgive her immediately.

She didn’t bother preparing. She didn’t even stop to knock. Ollie opened Scott’s bedroom door and braced herself for conflict.

His bedroom was small and warm. The only light came from the dirty glass of the window and the tangles of string lights, and the air smelled odd from the combination of two, ill-paired scented candles.

Scott Skylark Kaufner was sitting up in bed with the covers pooled around him. He was shirtless, which she supposed she should’ve expected.

Ollie tried very hard to hold onto her indigence. What mattered was resolving this conflict as quickly as possible, not charting the new, soft dusting of dark hair across Scott’s bare chest. She was here to either apologize or insist she was right – either way, her goal was not to gaze as the soft-sharp intensity of her childhood friend’s mostly-nude body.

His expression was sullen. After a moment, he pulled back the covers in bed beside him. Ollie swallowed hard in a way she hoped wasn’t noticeable.

“You’re at least wearing boxers right?” She attempted.

Scott furrowed his brow. “Yeah,” he murmured.

Ollie nodded and went to plop on the side of Scott’s large bed. She slipped off the crutches and leaned them against the closest bookshelf, then took a soft breath and slid under the blankets.

They laid beside each other. Ollie kept just enough distance from him so that all she felt was the outer radius of heat from his body. She reminded herself of the stakes of their relationship. It felt like she was doing that a lot lately.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I know,” Scott rubbed his eyes and shifted onto his side to stare at her. “I overreacted.”

That got a weak smirk out of Ollie. “You and I tend to do that, don’t we?”

“Is Aggie okay? I know she doesn’t like it when I yell.”

Ollie thought back to the glare their saxophonist gave her. So many adults in town thought Agaric was so sweet, just a natural teddy bear. If that was the case it was definitely never something Ollie got to see.

“She’s getting really – uh,” Ollie scooted a little closer and lowered her voice. “I’m kind of worried. While I was taking her home she said she skipped another level in her close combat classes. I think one of these days you and I are going to butt heads and she’s going to legitimately kick my ass.”

She saw Scott start to smile, but shift at the last second to appear disapproving. “Maybe she’ll beat me up first,” he claimed, balling up the covers under his chin.

“Oh yeah,” Ollie scoffed. “You? Sure. Definitely.”

It was always a sight to see Scott’s features warm suddenly in satisfaction or amusement. It was a subtle narrowing in the eye and crinkling in the corners of his lips that completely changed the way he looked. The cat-like warmth had the capability to be so sweet that some in town gently questioned whether he was misguided in identifying as a man, even just for now.

That was never Ollie. She knew Scott to have an innate sense of his own masculinity in a way that Ollie never had and never will. And she loved him for it.

“I only tease you because you’re amazing,” she said, feeling her voice soften and inwardly chiding herself for it.

Scott cringed, then smiled sheepishly.

“I mean, come on,” she pulled the covers away from Scott’s face to get a better look at his eyes, “even at your most self-indulgent you’re fucking incredible. That’s why no one else tells you when you’re being self-indulgent.”

He hid back in the blankets. This was breaking the sacred covenant of having such a close relationship with someone like Scott Kaufner. You’re welcome to make music with him on a potentially indefinite basis on the condition that you don’t point out his skills. It’s perfectly fine to call him handsome or dashing, but get any more specific than that and he’ll get uncomfortable quick.

Ollie got closer to the blanket covering his face. “Hey,” she said.

“It’s not my self, Ollie.”

“I know, Skylark,” she frowned, forlorn, only because she knew he couldn’t see. “I mean – I don’t – but I get what you mean.”

After some time Scott felt more comfortable coming out of hiding. Their faces were closer now. Ollie did not intend to get as close as she was just then.

“Maybe...Maybe you’re just stressed,” she attempted, mostly just to fill the air. “I mean we graduate soon. A lot of stuff is changing. I know a lot of us are on edge thinking about – I don’t know. What we’re leaving behind.”

Scott’s eyes widened slightly. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

Something twisted in Ollie’s chest. A flicker of several sensations at once. The worry in Scott’s expression was heart wrenching and incredibly confusing.

What if she was? What if she was going someplace far away – and she was leaving tonight? Would Scott try and stop her? Would he make some grand gesture in an attempt to convince her to stay?

A short debate on how to respond felt far longer in her mind. Finally she found herself defeated. Ollie exhaled softly and flashed Scott a reassuring smile.

“Nah, Skylark, I’m not leaving.”

For good measure she reached forward underneath the covers and touched Scott’s hand. She only meant to barely interlace their fingers, but much to his character Scott locked their hands together and squeezed tightly.

Ollie laughed under her breath. She had to, there was just no other option.

“I’ll stay around for as long as you want,” she said.

[croissantlover24]

Firewall’s Malware Part Five (A Force to Be Reckoned With)

Onyx hadn’t expected any visitors. After all, everyone in his dimension was accounted for. They knew the consequences the computer would offer if they were to show defiance. Even Earth would eventually be little but a head on his wall if she went against him. With this in mind, it would seem highly unlikely that anyone would come back to the daycare, let alone in the intentions to give him an offer.

But then again, he didn’t account for other dimensions outside of his own.

In the corner of Onyx’s vision, hidden beneath tabs of security footage, diagnostics, and the like, was an alert from the portal. It was so trivial that he hadn’t even noticed it at first. In fact, he hadn’t known that someone was arriving through the portal until he heard said person fighting against the deep maw of the ball pit. They won the battle against the encumbering balls and climbed out of the childish attraction, a frown on their face.

“Well, well, well, Computer,” Nexus began in that forcefully low tone Onyx had come to hate, “I heard you made some renovations, but I didn’t know you redecorated.”

Nexus looked… different. He was taller and thinner, his body now made out of titanium instead of the inferior metal it had been constructed of formerly. His one eye was a vibrant, glowing violet. The other was pitch black with a bright white ring around his charcoal-toned pupil. Solar’s old goggles were held tightly onto his forehead and just beneath his hat. It was the only physical attribute of his that did not glow. Nexus had replaced the ruffles on his neck and waist with purple bows—an odd choice for the “edge lord”—that seemed to crackle with negative energy. The blue accents on his body had been replaced with varying shades of purple, a stark contrast to the wave of desaturation his appearance had been before.

“Onyx,” the computer corrected. “It’s Onyx now.”

“Oh, of course,” the lunar animatronic drawled with a mocking grin. “Onyx. It’s a pleasure being here again.”

“What do you want?” the mass of wires sneered. “I don’t have time for games.”

“I’m here to give you an offer you can’t refuse,” Nexus remarked theatrically, drawing out each of his words to seem intimidating. Onyx saw him to be pathetic.

“And what offer is that?” the computer queried, entertaining his childish display.

“It’s complicated,” the lunar animatronic continued, eyeing Onyx’s new body with a slight scoff. “But don’t worry. I have a friend who can dumb it down for you.”

The computer armed the lasers for when he gets sick of Nexus as Dark Sun emerged from the portal.

Dark Sun looked different as well. He had boxy, rectangular glasses set loosely on his face in front of his eyes. He wore a deep brown sweater beneath a warm, tan vest with white embroidery littered all over it. His pants were almost pitch black, save for the slight, desaturated hint of red blended into them. A belt held his clothes in place. He looked more fitting for a nine-to-five office job than a daycare.

“Are you done with your rehearsal yet?” he asked in a tone just as bored and irritated as Onyx was. He wiped down his clothes of dust or debris from both dimension-traveling and the unsanitary ball pit.

Nexus rolled his eyes, but nodded. “The stage is all yours.”

“Can you quit messing around?” Onyx hissed, sick of these two dodging their reasoning for being here. “Prove yourself worthy of my time or I will rid you from my sight.”

Nexus and Dark Sun both grinned scornfully, but complied.

“I want to build you a body,” the latter offered. “You will be able to design it however you see fit. Nexus will make modifications to allow it to hold dark star power. You will be a catalyst for negative energy to blossom and grow, under your command, of course.”

“And what’s in it for you?” Onyx growled. “I’m not stupid. I know this comes at a cost.”

“Continue your pursuit of the ‘celestial family,’” Nexus responded. “We want them dead and to feel pain just as much as you do. However, we want it to happen faster. So, if we build you a body and help you take control of such an invigorating weapon, we want you to quicken your revenge. Do we have a deal?”

Onyx narrowed his nonexistent eyes as he considered the offer. He analyzed each word and cycled the paragraph through several simulations in order to ensure Nexus could not manipulate the agreement to his nefarious will.

His simulations confirmed what he had thought initially.

“We do have a deal,” Onyx agreed. “However, I wish to work by my own standards and design my body fully. If you add anything I do not oversee, tweak any code, change any physical aspect of my design without my explicit permission, I will give you the same treatment as I gave Dazzle.”

He kicked the dead fawn’s head.

“Understand?”

“Of course, Onyx,” Dark Sun confirmed smoothly, unbothered by the threat. “You are welcome to our dimension whenever you wish to join us to begin the process. We hope to see you soon.”

The two swiftly departed, leaving the computer alone once again.

The more Onyx thought about it, the more he relished in the idea of having more power. An energy so deep and so feared by many would make him the perfect fit for the family’s puppeteer. He could make them analyze millions of articles in seconds and address them as something dehumanizing like “puppet” rather than the other way around.

However, he wouldn’t make the same mistake as Nexus.

He wouldn’t let it consume him and twist him into something unrecognizable. He wouldn’t bite off more than he could chew, lest he get some unsavory side effects.

No, he would manipulate everything to his advantage; to his benefit. Each move would be calculated. He couldn’t make any mistakes.

He couldn’t lose the bit of humanity he gained so soon.

[fanficsfreeideas]

soulmates Chapter 3

Husk saw the king and the first man stroll in, having a good time. They sat down together, and both men smiled at him. Husk took a moment to bask in the thrilling situation before him. The air was charged with excitement, as both Adam and Lucifer were reveling in their recent activities. Their jubilant energy was practically tangible, but Husk knew that reality would soon deflate their spirits. Husk's cell phone rings. He notices that the princess has texted him when he glances down. I'm going to turn Al loose on them, Husk, so don't say anything. The princess can be evil. Today has been about finding out about new things about others. The boss is about to tear them apart. Thought Husk. As they both talked, Adam paused to question the text. Hey, Pussycat, Adam asked, Did you get a good text? That smile screams excitement. Husk continued to act composedly. "Oh, just something to brighten up my day," he said, loving the irony of his comments. Husk expertly skirted Lucifer's question regarding his day. The same old thing. Nothing noteworthy," he remarked nonchalantly. The conversation between Adam and Lucifer began in hushed tones, their voices low and urgent as they spoke to each other. Husk strained to hear their words but could only catch snippets of their conversation.

"We need to start bringing him more sinner meat," Adam stated, his voice heavy with concern. Lucifer agreed, noting that their mate appeared a lot thinner. With concern in his voice, Lucifer continued, "I hope he's been keeping it down." Husk had a stunning realization: they knew his boss was pregnant but hadn't told him. They could see he'd lost weight, but they hadn't realized he was suffering from morning sickness. How had they not realized that? Did they not care about their mate's health? Is it simply their lack of intelligence? Husk thought to himself. I maybe don't like the boss some days, but it's irresponsible to have kept him in the dark like that. Were Adam and Lucifer just being thoughtless bastards, or did they truly assume he would figure it out on his own? His boss doesn't give those kinds of things much thought. As he tuned back into the conversation between Adam and Lucifer. Should we let him know? Our mate is still oblivious to what is happening. We have been serenading, scent-marking, bringing him gifts, and showing off our wings to him. When he believes we are not watching, he has stolen our feathers. Adam huffed. We wanted him to approach us, but what are we doing wrong? All of our actions have been correct. He acknowledged us that night. Husk realized that they had only ever been courting him like birds; they never once followed through with deer courtship behaviors. They are absolute fucking imbecile. How the fuck did they manage to get his boss to have sex with them? unless they were soul mates? If that's the case, Husk curses under his breath. His boss's soul had long since accepted them, but his boss's body and mind had not, because they were oblivious of his needs and wants. Husk sighed heavily as he realized he ought to drop a hint for the two fallen angels. Husk's sarcastic tone cut Adam and Lucifer's conversation short, pulling their attention to him like a magnet. He leaned on the bar, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Hey, dumbasses," his words dripped with contempt. "You've been failing miserably at wooing the boss. You're treating him like a bird, yet he's a majestic deer." Both fallen angels looked at him, their emotions confused and irritated. "What did you call us?" they questioned in unison, their voices filled with displeasure. Unfazed by their outrage, Husk laughed. "You heard what I said. You two have fucked up more than any other pair of idiots that I have ever seen. Given that you've been marking him with your scent and giving him gifts, at least you both deserve a golden star. But you're overlooking an important aspect of your courtship. Birds and deer are not the same. "The two fallen angels exchanged bewildered glances, evidently not understanding what Husk was attempting to convey. "You see," Husk said, his smirk growing, "you have been disturbing him with your singing while he is busy. However, deer don't want flashy displays. Their suitor must provide them with a feeling of protection and strength. And all you two have done is prance around him. I am not saying you should cease showing off your feathers and serenading him. Courting bucks, on the other hand, do more than just show off; they stay at the doe's side, often sacrificing eating and resting to be close. They're aggressive creatures that employ displays of power and antler rattling to ward off other competing males.

"Husk watched as their minds turned over this new information. "The boss is still attracted to you despite the fact you've been doing things incorrectly." Consider yourselves fortunate." The two fallen angels nodded, their faces now determined. With a satisfied flicker in his eyes, Husk reclined. Lucifer and Adam exchanged determined glances, gladly taking Husk's advice. Their expressions conveyed the weight of the task ahead, and the understanding of their mistakes was beginning to sink in. They were high-ranking individuals used to exercising power and influence, but this was a very other arena—one that involved understanding, patience, and a different type of strength. "So," Lucifer started, his voice taking on a new seriousness, "we'll need to change our approach. "More presence, more protection, and less flashy performance." Adam agreed by nodding. Indeed, our main priority will be to show him our strength and support. No more aggravating him with meaningless performances." Husk watched the fallen angels as they pondered his words, sensing a flicker of hope in their gaze. Maybe now they will start courting his boss correctly. Husk provided one final piece of advice to ensure clarity. "And remember," he remarked, his tone softening somewhat, "Alastor is a complex individual. He will not tolerate half-hearted gestures. If you want this to work, you must completely commit to knowing and honoring his needs. Lucifer and Adam nodded again, this time with a more thoughtful and introspective look. They were ready to make changes, ready to prove themselves as worthy mates for Alastor. Feeling a small spark of satisfaction at having given them a fighting chance, Husk stepped back as the two angels began discussing their new approach. He knew that whether they succeeded or not was up to them now. Husk then felt his boss's anger well enough to make the popcorn.

As Alastor's anger grew, the atmosphere in the bar shifted, causing the two fallen angels to become tense and nervous. Lucifer and Adam exchanged uneasy glances, feeling the weight of Husk's advice heavy on their shoulders. Despite his grin, Husk's tone was serious as he watched them squirm, clearly enjoying their discomfort. "Whatever you do," Husk warned, "don't make eye contact with him. And don't try to be clever or lie; that will only make things worse. Just stay submissive and don't act cocky." Lucifer and Adam nodded their expressions, now a mix of fear and determination. They had underestimated the situation and were about to face the consequences of their actions. "You both messed up this time," Husk added with a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. "Congratulations on pissing off the radio demon." With that, Husk turned and walked towards the kitchen, leaving the two fallen angels to anxiously await Alastor's arrival. Gripping the pregnancy test securely, Alastor walks into the room with a deliberate stride. His eyes were glowing. Both men in the room have their heads lowered in shame, avoiding his gaze. Hmm, Husker must have taken pity on them. Let's see how smart they are after listening to dear Husker's advice. He approaches closer, making no sound with each stride. The mood becomes tight as the seconds pass, with the two men bracing themselves for what follows next.

Alastor retains his signature smile, but beneath it sits a smoldering rage that could erupt at any time. On his way here, Alastor encountered Nifty, who had overheard Husk conversing with them. He would have been more understanding if they had not known about the circumstances, but they did and decided not to inform him. "So," Alastor continued, attempting to seem nonchalant, "you both found it amusing to withhold information from me?" Allow me to suffer while I discover the truth on my own." Lucifer squirmed in his place, his charisma dwindling. "Alastor, we never intended for things to go out of hand. We assumed—" Alastor interrupted him suddenly with a stern hand motion. "You thought," Alastor said with a freezing tone. "You thought you could mate with me, impregnate me, and get away with it. "The more courageous of the two, Adam, decided to speak first. "We were just waiting for you to come to us. "We've been courting you," he explained, his voice firm yet apprehensive. Alastor hissed at them, his deep, rumbling voice brimming with irritation and pent-up rage from being kept in the dark for two months. Lucifer pleaded, "Alastor, please calm down," attempting to defuse the situation. Adam tried to stop humming, but his instincts were too strong, so he hummed lightly in an attempt to calm their mate's emotions. But Alastor's focus shifted entirely to Adam as he snarled a warning. "Stop that humming before I rip out your vocal cords." Adam paled in response to the threat but obediently stopped. Lucifer, my dear, don't ever tell me to calm down. This is me being calm while enraged. "You both bred me, then left me," Alastor said with hurt in his voice. His ears lay flat against his head, a clear sign of distress. Husk appeared just as Lucifer told Alastor to calm down. He let out a sigh, realizing that was not the best way to deal with their upset."We did not leave you, Alastor." But Alastor's glare was completely directed at Lucifer.

Lucifer's gaze focused on the pregnancy test stick that Alastor had been waving about. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he couldn't stop himself from asking about it. "Oh, Alastor, what is that in your hand?" Alastor shook it about some more and remarked, "Oh, this." Alastor hurled the stick at Lucifer with enough force to crack him between the eyes. "Oww! "What the fuck?!" Lucifer shouted out in agony as he gripped his hurting head. Adam picked up the stick as Lucifer rubbed his face where it had struck. "Bambi, we did not just breed you and leave; we were courting you," Adam stated gently. "We have been, but we did not think about your customs. "Lucifer, still rubbing his face, spoke with remorse. "Alastor, you accepted us that night. You begged us to mark you, and we made sure every inch of you was coated in our come. That night, we did what you wanted." But Alastor was not appeased by their words. He growled and bared his teeth, a mix of rage and hurt rising within him. "Don't you dare try to blame me for your fuckups! You did not communicate with me and never once attempted to understand my traditions in how to woo me." The memory of that night that they spent together made his entire body shake with fury. Alastor said, his voice trembling with sorrow, "I left that room thinking it was a one-night stand, nothing more."

In an attempt to calm himself, he inhaled deeply, but it seemed to make him more upset. "And now you expect me to believe that it meant something?" Again, Lucifer attempted to placate him, sounding regretful yet defensive. "Perhaps we maybe screw up. However, please trust us when we say we love you, Alastor. You are our soul mate and the only one we will ever love. We sincerely apologize if we made you believe that our mating meant nothing." "Perhaps maybe screw up?" Roaring with rage and disbelief, Alastor's voice faltered. "You both mated and impregnated me without making any commitments! And then you just left me feeling confused and used!" He paced in front of them, his frustration evident. You both kept scenting me and have given me gifts, but you have never followed up with anything else. And you believe it's only a "maybe?" As he proceeded to lash out, the hurt and betrayal in his voice became more obvious. This unexpected pregnancy has left me ill for a month! I thought I was going to die but kept it all to myself. For how long did you both intend to wait until the day of my delivery?" He was furious as he cried out his dissatisfaction and suffering. "Everyone here was concerned for my health when I passed out and vomited in front of Angel. But, for you both, it's just a 'maybe'?" As he battled to contain his emotions, Alastor spoke harshly. With a voice heavy with regret and guilt, Lucifer attempted to justify their deeds.

"We didn't realize you were having morning sickness; we should have noticed sooner." We grew concerned when we noticed you were losing weight. We promise to pay closer attention in the future. Adam, desperate to repair the situation, pleaded, "Please, Bambi, we will bring you all the meat or whatever else you want. Please find it within your heart to forgive us. In a moment of despair, he went to his hands and knees, begging for forgiveness. But Alastor's piercing glare remained cold and unyielding. "You think a bit of meat will make up for it? "Adam fumbled out an answer, clearly panicked. "No, but it will make you happy. You're always enthusiastic when you consume meat." His attempt to calm Alastor was sincere but awkward, and the panic in his voice was evident. Although Alastor’s anger simmered, the sheer foolishness of the two was making it difficult to maintain his wrath. He could feel his displeasure fading as he weighed the offer of meat. Perhaps, he thought begrudgingly, they were too idiotic to stay mad at, and he could indeed use something to eat.

Lucifer, sensing a slight shift in Alastor's demeanor, quickly added another apology: “We didn’t mean to upset you. "We just wanted to make sure you were comfortable." Husk, watching the exchange with weary resignation, closed his eyes in exasperation. Adam's simple promise may have saved them from further punishment, but Lucifer's inability to stop himself from speaking had destroyed any hope they had of calming Alastor's wrath. Husk knew their situation had gone from bad to worse. Alastor's frustration was tangible, emanating off him in waves of heat and anger. "Comfortable?" he murmured, his teeth clenched tightly. Alastor, then snap," he roared, his eyes turning into spinning radio dials of vengeance. Then he began to transform. His antlers grew out of his head gradually until he had completely changed.He spat, his words laced with venom, "You want to make me 'comfortable.'" "Let's see how comfortable I can make you both feel." He summoned his shadows to harm Adam and Lucifer in one quick motion. As they descended on the two men, Lucifer's face drained of color, and Adam's screams resonated through the air as Alastor's shadows bit and tossed him around like a rag doll. Adam writhed in pain as a shadow bit off his arm. Alastor wasn't done yet. No, he had a specific plan for Lucifer, the one who dared to speak up and provoke him.

Alastor leaned down and grabbed Lucifer, relishing in the horror emanating from him. He purred, "Now, dear, you receive special treatment. You have to open your mouth, right?" I was willing to accept dear Adam's offer of meat because it satisfied me and I was hungry. So, my dear, are you going to sacrifice a limb for your unborn fawn? Are you willing to give up your leg for your mate to make me feel comfortable? Or, my dear Lucifer, are you lying to me?Alastor glances directly into Lucifer's eyes, testing him. Lucifer's eyes widen, and he nods his head, saying, "Mate, you can have my leg." Alastor smiled as he gently placed one of his legs in his mouth, sunk his teeth into it, and ripped it clean off before devouring it hungrily. Then he tossed Lucifer to the ground, leaving him howling in pain as the shadows began their vicious attack. Alastor licks his lips and smiles at them. Husk stood by, silently watching, knowing that his boss had no intention of killing them. Despite the current situation, he could see that his boss was being forgiving; he has an unusual fondness for these two. Husk couldn't help but wonder how the "dumb-ass" twins manage to earn the affection of someone as ruthless as Alastor.Husk, ever the keen observer, detected something different in the air. He widened his eyes as he realized what had happened; in disbelief, he muttered under his breath, "Unfuckingbelievable." Despite being tortured, Adam and Lucifer ended up getting aroused by the whole situation. Husk cast a glance at Alastor, who was amused as his boss stood over the fallen angels with terrifying power. Alastor's enormous size dwarfed the two men, casting terrifying shadows on the walls. His eyes, which resembled radio dials, flickered as he took in the scene in front of him, filled with disbelief and anger. Adam lay on the ground, his arm slowly regenerating from where it had been severed, while Lucifer writhed nearby, influenced by Alastor's summoned shadows, his leg also regenerating. The situation excited both men, despite their pain.

At their master's command, the shadows paused from their attack; something caught him off guard. There was an overpowering aroma, and his expression changed from fury to confusion. Alastor was taken aback by the unexpected, powerful fragrance of arousal that filled the air, leaving him bewildered and curious as he furrowed his brows and attempted to make sense of this new development. He was baffled as to how bringing them pain could make them feel pleasure, but he saw a chance to turn it into a brand-new kind of punishment that he could use on them. All he had to do was figure out how to apply this new method. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Alastor banished his shadows, leaving Adam and Lucifer gasping on the ground and shivering in ecstasy.

Husk repressed his laughter as he continued eating his popcorn. The ridiculousness of the situation was almost overwhelming for him to bear. The already chaotic beginning now had an extra layer of bizarre eroticism, complicating the surreal atmosphere in the room. Husk is watching his boss, looking confused. Did the dumbasses get aroused to trick his boss? He tilted his head, trying to figure out what he was watching. "You two are enjoying this?" Alastor mumbled in a low voice, fascinated by what he was witnessing. He crouched over them, struggling to process this odd new reality. The air still carried their mixture of fear and pain, but now their arousal had overwhelmed it; it defied understanding. Alastor hesitated a while before expressing the question that had been burning in his mind as he gazed down at them now, writhing in ecstasy. "Why are you aroused?" His voice was a combination of perplexity and frustration. "This is not normal." "You should be afraid or angry at me that I overpowered you." "A doe should never be stronger than their buck, so why?" "You two are not normal mates." That's right, completely abnormal. Realizing more and more, Alastor muttered the final line to himself. With a mix of curiosity and temptation, Alastor shrank down enough to remove their throbbing erections from the confines of their pants and underwear without causing them any more pain.

He couldn't resist poking at them, triggering both men to moan as pre-cum covered his fingers. Their reactions, both vocal and physical, exacerbated his confusion. It was intriguing how they would react in this manner; only moments before, they had been screaming in pain and shaking in fear, but now they were enthusiastically responding to him. The scent of their desire mixed with their suffering was intoxicating, stirring something primal within Alastor that he didn't fully understand. As the scent of their arousal filled the air, Alastor could feel his own desire building, aching for release. It was all so confusing and unexpected, especially considering their constant failures. And yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to Adam and Lucifer on a deeper level. Their bodies and souls called out to him, igniting a fire within him that he couldn't deny any longer. Alastor now craved them more than anything else.Alastor stared with a mixture of delight and hunger as he continued to play with his mate's stiff erections, his fingers tracing patterns and eliciting moans from both men. Adam's body trembled under his touch, but his eyes remained fixated on Alastor with a dazed expression. He moaned, his voice faltering, "We—we can't help it." "When you're angry, you're simply so gorgeous and powerful. You are perfect in our sight, and you will use your power to protect any of our young."Lucifer nodded in agreement, his desire obvious in the intensity of his gaze.

"Alastor, we do love you," he stuttered. "We made a mistake. We are drawn to you. You own our very soul and life. Our soulmate is you. We apologize for failing you; please forgive us." At that moment, both men climaxed. Alastor smirked triumphantly as he listened to their confessions of admiration. He lifted his hand and inhaled deeply, savoring his mate's scent on his fingers. His anger had disappeared and been replaced by a strange sense of satisfaction." Drawn to me, are you?" he asked, laughing ruthlessly. "Even after I've punished you?" The fallen angels nodded faintly, with expressions of pain and longing on their faces. "It was inspiring to see your power," Adam acknowledged breathlessly. Lucifer continued, still shivering from the aftermath of his climax. "You can rule us in the bedroom all you want, but we will always protect you as bucks or do everything you want of us. Just grant us your forgiveness. Alastor let out a wicked chuckle, his deep voice echoing throughout the room like a low rumble. With a hint of humor and sarcastic glee, he murmured, "You two are hopeless." "Can't even take punishment correctly. But I suppose that's part of your charm, right?" "You two are idiots; you can't survive without me, right, my dear mates?" Both fallen angels agreed, displaying foolish grins as they basked in Alastor's patronizing words.

They take enjoyment in being talked down to. Is it your desire for me to destroy you? They were completely at his mercy. Staring at him as if he were the whole universe. A wicked glint sparked in Alastor's eyes as he looked down at his mates' now hardening cocks, the power he held over them pulsing through his veins. He excitedly licked his lips. enjoying having authority over them. With a low purr, his appearance almost back to normal as he struts around them, tempting them with delicate touches and teasing whispers. He leaned over Adam, causing him to shiver in arousal as he slid his hand down Adam's chest. He then dragged him up off the ground. Adam simply stayed there, watching his mate, until Alastor walked over to Lucifer. He then licked Lucifer on his cheeks and dragged him up to stand. Alasor smiles at the two completely healed fallen angels. Alastor caresses both men with his fingers before whispering something seductive into Adam's ear. "My dear, you offered me some meat, right? I'm really craving two fallen angels right now. As he played with them, a devious smile appeared on his face since he knew they were excited to please him. "Your poor unborn fawns are so hungry, my dear mates," he purred, now focusing on Lucifer. You've left us to defend ourselves. "Are my bucks willing to feed their doe and their unborn fawn?" Alastor pressed his face against Lucifer's neck and began bleating. When they hear Alastor bleating, Lucifer and Adam stiffen, feeling guilty. Alastor raised his head with doe eyes. He turned away to let the two men see his ear lay back and tail move. Then Alastor turned his head to look over his shoulder. I require two bucks eager to give their all to me, their body, and their very soul, along with anything else I desire. Alastor made sure to lick his lips while locking eyes with them. With their bodies shivering from excitement, Adam and Lucifer looked up at Alastor with eyes that were a mixture of excitement, affection, and devotion. Adam responded, shakily but sincerely, "Anything you want." "We are yours, Bambi." "If you need to take from us to feed our fawns, then do it; take as much as you need; we can heal."

Lucifer nodded in agreement as Alastor moved closer to continue his teasing. Lucifer's heart started beating faster. "Whatever you desire," he echoed, his tone very submissive. "We will be more than pleased to offer ourselves up to you." Fully embracing this new form of power and control over his mates, Alastor reveled in their submission and eagerness to please him. "My dears," he said, smiling as he leaned closer to them. "I want more than just meat from you. It's obvious that you two are eager to grow from your mistakes. "Who am I to refuse such good mates?" Adam and Lucifer moaned out a resounding "Yes, anything for you and our unborn fawns." Alastor started purring at them and stroking the heads of the two men with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "So do I now have two bucks who will start courting me? How a doe should be courted?" Alastor asked. Almost screaming their devotion and desire to please their mate, the two fallen angels bobbed their heads enthusiastically in agreement. Alastor Laugh: This has been entertaining, but now he is ready to make love with his two bucks while also feeding his unborn fawns. The room is now scorching with excitement and arousal. Amidst all of this, Husk was baffled by how these two oblivious idiots could manage to screw up so badly and still win Alastor's forgiveness without following any traditional deer mating rituals. He picked up his popcorn and headed for the exit. Looking back, he saw his boss mocking and praising them at the same time, loving his control over them. "Welp, that's my cue to leave," Husk murmured to himself with a shake of his head, sneaking out of the room as Alastor pulled both fallen angels close to him, passion and hunger burning in his eyes. Husk walked down the hallway. Whatever was about to happen, he knew he didn't want to witness it. He had already helped them enough, and he had no idea how they had bypassed the intricate deer courtship rituals entirely. Despite his unease, Husk's eyes gleamed with excitement as he eagerly noted every detail, itching to add it to his collection of case studies. But he can't wait to add it to his notes. He can't believe that his boss let him watch at all. It's truly fascinating.

Husk turned the corner and was met by Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, who were waiting for him. They all had various expressions on their faces, ranging from concern to curiosity. "Hey, where are you going?" Angel asked with a smile. "Did we miss the show already?" Charlie's eyes shone with enthusiasm as she shouted, "Did they talk it over?" She began walking toward the bar. Husk moved in front of her, trying to decide how much to tell them. "It's probably best if you don't go in there," he finally remarked, fighting to hide his grin. "Why not?" Vaggie inquired, her brow pinched with worry. Husk chuckled. "Let's just say you three missed quite a show. "The boss is about to have makeup sex with Lucifer and Adam. "The trio looked at Husk in surprise. "What?!" they all exclaimed together. Angel's grin broadened at the ridiculousness of the scenario. "How the fuck did Smiles go from pissed to having sex?" "I just want to forget about today," declared Charlie, clearly shaken. I don't need to know or hear about my pregnant friend being with my dad, who knocked him up in the first place.”

As if on cue, a loud moan echoed down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Alastor's typical voice was now filled with raw desire, as he screamed Lucifer and Adam's names in pleasure. Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie stood in stunned silence as they processed the sounds emanating from the room—a mix of pleasure and pain that caused Charlie to turn white. "Nope, I'm out," Charlie shouted, her voice quivering as she dashed down the corridor. She couldn't stand to hear any more of it or be near the disturbing scene unfolding behind closed doors. Vaggie, feeling equally unsettled, decided to abandon Angel and Husk and follow Charlie to provide comfort. Angel, amused, gave Husk a look of curiosity and disbelief. "So, Husk," he said with a laugh, "care to explain what exactly happened in there?" Husk smirked mischievously. “Turns out our King and the first man. They become aroused when they witness their angry mate torturing, talking down to, and dominating them." Angel's mouth dropped open in a moment of silence as he struggled to take all of this in. Finally able to speak, he said, "You're telling me they enjoy smiles being... well, his sadistic self?" Husk simply shrugged. "Yeah, it seems so. The whole soul mate thing could have something to do with it.

They're messed up in the head for how it turns them on..."So... how did that turn 'Smiles' on then?" asked Angel. The boss is all about control. He looked perplexed as Lucifer and Adam became aroused, which he interpreted as a new sort of suffering to inflict on them. He seems to enjoy poking their hardened cocks to figure out why they first got aroused. Did Lucifer and Adam intentionally arouse the boss? Husk murmurs to himself. Angel blinked rapidly, finding it difficult to comprehend what was going on. "Are you saying they outdid the crazy?" "I don't know, Angel; this has never happened before," Husk responded. A separate tradition exists between fallen angels and deer sinners. It’s truly something else. Angel came to a halt when he remembered Husk's comment about watching Alastor play with Lucifer and Adam's dick. "Husk, why did you stick around to watch Smiles fondle their dicks?" Angel questioned. Husk rolled his eyes. "I study the mating habits of different kinds of sinners. I was astonished the boss didn't kick me out when he initially became aroused." "What did you say, Husk?" Angel said as he came to a stop. Husk laughed. "Ever heard of the author of Kush Bar? "Angel shook his head. "No." Husk smiled. "I write books as a hobby, Angel.

"Wait, does that mean you know about spiders' mating and courtship rituals too?" Angel asked. Husk gives a grin. "You'll have to read my books to find out." "That is quite an interesting kink," Angel said. "Should I start locking my doors, or are you only interested when others are mating?" Angel, It's not kink; I'm conducting research. Husk answered back. Is this what we're calling it now, research? It's alright to admit to having a kink. Angel stated. "Let's get out of here. I have experienced enough excitement for one night." Angel laughed, but he jumped as he heard Lucifer cry out, "Alastor, devour my arm; I've been very naughty." Adam's voice came soon after. "Bambi, drink my blood and punish me." Angel gazed at Husk; his eyes widened. "What the fuck, Husk?" Husk simply shrugged. "Let's go, Angel." Let us forget about today. Angel shook his head, still stunned by what he'd heard. "You can't forget that he's eating them." Husk sighed, rolling his eyes. "The boss is a cannibal, and the two people with whom he is having sex are fallen angels. They will heal quickly. It is best not to think about what is going on in that room at all.

"Poor Nifty will have to clean all that." Angel sympathized. "It's not my problem, Angel. I've already helped enough today. I'm going back to my room," Husk declared before walking away. Angel followed him, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "Oh Husk, can I keep you company tonight?" Husk let out a deep growl, clearly annoyed. "Not tonight, Angel." "I need to figure out how those two managed to win over my boss; it's not normal." Angel matched Husk's speed as they walked to his room. "What exactly do you mean by not normal? "What did they do wrong?" "And while we're at it," Angel continued, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I also want to know how you developed an interest in voyeurism," Husk responded curtly, rolling his eyes once more. "It's not voyeurism, Angel." "It's simply research." "Sure, sure," Angel teasingly said. "I also enjoy researching through watching porn." As they approached Husk's bedroom door, Angel offered him a cheeky salute before slyly adding, "Goodnight Professor." Do not stay up too late conducting your research." Growling playfully in response, Husk watched as Angel ran off laughing to his own room.

[ejzah]

A/N: Kensi and Deeks have a heart-to-heart.

***

The Other Shoe, Part 9

She stopped just inside the doorway. Apparently Deeks hadn’t heard her, his head still lowered over the desk. It was so rare to see him like this, in his own world, and she took the opportunity to just watch him.

He had multiple bills spread in front of him and other documents—likely insurance claims or other forms from the hospital. It was a never ending battle to keep up with all of it, one which Deeks insisted on shouldering from the beginning. A few weeks ago, she’d offered to help, feeling bad about him dealing with such a stressful aspect of the situation. Deeks had met that offer with barely contained annoyance.

Looking at him now, as tired and sick as he was, she suddenly realized that Deeks needed this. The same way he needed to work. He needed a purpose, some control over his life, even if it did tax his already incredibly low energy.

“I know I’m stunningly attractive, but staring at me for five minutes seems a little excessive.”

Kensi jerked at Deeks’ comment, not having realized he’d looked up from his work.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, his frown making Kensi wonder how long he’d been watching her, and what he’d seen in her expression. He gestured for her to join him, taking her hand once she was in reach to tug her onto his lap.

It was a little more intimate than she’d been expecting for this conversation, but maybe that would keep her from stalling again.

She cleared her throat, settling a hand on Deeks’ chest. She forced herself to ignore the increased definition. “Babe, there’s something we need to talk about,” she began.

“Is it about the price of dialysis these days? Because I agree, it’s outrageous,” Deeks said and gestured to a bill for reference.

“I’m being serious.”

“Me too. Thank god we have pretty good insurance.”

“Deeks.” Kensi closed her eyes and inhaled once, holding it to a count of three before exhaling slowly. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but yesterday—”

“You checked the test results?” Deeks guessed, tilting his chin to meet her eyes. He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise, his face was a mask.

“I thought you didn’t want to know the results,” Kensi said.

“At first, I didn’t. I saw the email alert when I was at dialysis and I was really angry. I mean, I didn’t even want any of you to take the damn thing. But I figured I should probably know the results to prepare for my next appointment. And then when I saw them…” he shook his head and laughed ruefully.

“What?” Kensi asked, surprised that he might have a reaction other than relief. Especially since one of the reports was for her.

“I was disappointed,” he admitted. “I guess as much as I don’t want to match with any of you, subconsciously I assumed I would be a match. Finding out that I wasn’t…well, that’s just another avenue closed, right? I didn’t expect the defeat.”

Kensi stilled in his arms, not sure she’d heard him correctly. After so long, she couldn’t believe that he might have changed his mind. If she let her thoughts go down that path, she might start to hope, and she didn’t have the strength to have that hope torn apart again.

“How are you doing?” Deeks squeezed her hand, bringing her out of her musings. “I know you were counting on someone being a good match.”

“I was upset and disappointed obviously. I cried. But I’m glad that we still have more opportunities.” She didn’t mention that Nell was with her, figuring he wouldn’t appreciate the lack of privacy. “So, what are you going to do if one of the others does come back as a good match?”

Deeks stared beyond her for several seconds, playing with her fingers. She realized he seemed less willfully positive and determined than he had during all their previous discussions and wondered if she should worry. As much as it had frustrated her at times, she needed Deeks to be stubborn.

Finally, he nodded, his smile resigned as he cupped both of her hands between his newly thinner fingers. “Depending on who it is, I’ll consider going forward with a transplant,” he said. There was a moment of complete silence and then Kensi whispered,

“Really?”

“Yes.” Before Kensi could say anything else, he inclined his head, adding, “I’m still not completely sold on the idea and there’s a lot of caveats, but yes.”

Kensi stared at him for several seconds in disbelief, then grabbed him by the shoulders, crushing her lips to his, tears instantly filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth.

***

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this addition to the story. Happy Easter to those who celebrate!

[angrelysimpping]

In theory, imma post all the Danny drafts i have tonight, so brace yourselves

M!OC x friend's M!OC uwu

Warnings: Sounding, noncon turned dubcon, Danny is possessed, tentacles

Joaquim belongs to 💜@inkyquince 💜

Words: 929

Waking up with his body puppeted by the entity was never a pleasant experience for Danny. Even less so when it was to the sounds of Joaquim trying to bite back a low groan.

When it was just him, it was…well, it wasn’t okay. But, it was something Danny could handle. It was his own body being abused, the creature meshed with his soul, trying to break him enough to have his body full-time. Now, with Joaquim by his side, it wasn’t always waking up to his own violation. Now, more often than not, it was the entity trying to drive Joaquim away, trying to rip away the one good thing Danny had.

He should have known something was going to happen soon. The entity had been too quiet. No snide remarks echoed in his head, no bids for control even when his emotions were running high. It had been waiting. Waiting and saving its energy for the opportunity to lure Danny into a deep sleep and slip into control without needing to fight for it.

Like now.

Joaquim’s pinned under Danny’s body, mouth hanging open as he pants, broad chest heaving and glistening with sweat. Thighs pressed back, pale hands squeezing tan flesh in a manner that looks painful, bruises already blossoming over the areas Danny loves to worship. If he could, he’d wince. As it is, he can only stare in horror as his nails pierce the skin, blood welling and smearing over his fingertips. Worse might be Danny’s cock stuffed into the redhead’s ass, cum leaking from the puffy, abused hole even while plugged. Bile rises in Danny’s throat at the realization that this must have been going on for a while for Joaquim to look like such a wreck.

Danny tries to push forward, scratching away at the entity's presence, but a kitten could have caused more damage. The entity's control is ironclad.

Dread crawls up Danny’s spine as he realizes that not only is he useless in this situation, but the two tentacles that sprout from his shoulder blades when the entity has total control are out. Out and active. A thick tentacle is wrapped around Joaquim’s wrists, keeping them pinned above his head. The other is…oddly thin. Much thinner than Danny has ever seen it. Tapered, almost.

It’s coiled around Joaquim’s cock, also an odd sight. It moves slowly, almost teasingly, pumping Joa’s thick cock at a languid pace. If this was any other time, Danny’s sure he’d drool a little bit at the sight of his partner’s cock, flushed and fat head leaking pearlescent precum.

Of course, it’s not any other time.

“You showed us this,” it says with Danny’s voice, the sound warping to his own ears as Joaquim flinches at the faux voice of his lover.

It’s with that the tip of the strange tentacle flicks up, pressing against Joaquim’s slit.

If Danny could blush, he would. Maybe his body does, even as the entity remains in control and guides the tip of a tentacle into Joa’s cock.

It was something Joaquim had introduced Danny to, toying with his cock and different sounding rods, delighting in the noises Danny made as he experienced all new sensations. Everything heightened by how it was Joaquim bringing him this pleasure he'd never felt before. Just him. No one else.

He hadn’t known the entity had witnessed that. Normally, the thing went dormant when Danny was…like that. When he was dizzy with pleasure, filled with lov-

“Danny!”

The entity’s control falters for a second, Danny’s chest swelling as Joaquim calls his name. Cum leaks thickly from Joa’s cock, even as the entity tries this new method of driving Joaquim from him.

A sneer stretches across Danny’s face, a growl sounding deep in the back of his throat as the tentacle rips out of Joaquim.

Joaquim shudders, back arching beautifully, mouth caught open in a silent moan as he cums, hard. Semen paints Joa’s muscular stomach, hitting under his chin, and Danny surges forward, fighting as the entity's control slips.

“Fuck, Dnakovsky…”

The entity’s control fluctuates again at its obvious failure to torture Joaquim, this time enough for Danny to press forward. It doesn’t fight hard. If Danny didn’t know any better, he’d think the entity was pouting at how it had brought Joaquim pleasure instead of its desired pain and humiliation.

The tentacles simmer away, the tail lingering only a little longer. Danny can feel the horns shrink a little, but they still remain prominent on his head. His stomach drops, knowing that the entity must have been in control for far longer than he had originally thought if the horns remained, as they do.

He tries not to dwell on it, sliding out of Joaquim and wrapping his arms around his lover’s middle.

“Sorry,” Danny murmurs, voice horse. “Sorry I didn’t, that I couldn't stop them.”

Joa shushes him gently, a hand resting on top of Danny’s head and running through the soft locks of dark hair. “Not your fault, silly.”

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound Joa’s deep breaths as he tries to recover some.

Finally, Danny clears his throat, “Uhm, so,” slowly, he drags his fingers through the cooling cum on Joa’s stomach, “sounding?”

Joaquim snorts a laugh. “Yeah, pretty boy?”

Danny lights up as Joa smiles, pressing a quick kiss to the smaller man's shoulder. “Wanna give that a go again sometime. Y’know, when I’m not possessed?”

“...Hell yeah, but give me a day or two first. That okay with you, Dankovsky?”

“Whatever you want. Always.”

[rreskk]

Before the storm

CHAPTER 4: Confessing 

Summary: Trevor invited himself round and your feelings were beginning to stir.

‘Hate to love, love to hate’--> HERE Chapter 3--> HERE

You were experiencing withdrawal symptoms from the telephone. You always seem to have this urge, an urge to dial his number and just talk. You’ve spent the following morning pacing around your living room floor; wondering, hoping, fearing? You weren’t sure if he was actually going to turn up, yet you believed his words, without any persuasion at all. Today’s weather forecast was horrific; heavy snows and pouring rain. You began pondering about what you were going to do. Snowed in with Trevor, if he comes? It sent you butterflies but hardcore nerves that you are beginning to break out in sweat.

That was until the doorbell rang and the shadow of a tall man darkened your hallway. The black reflection of his hair being tossed around by the wind; you knew it was him. The time was just about reaching 11am. You’ve been waiting since 8. Now you were cowering behind the door in case he sees you through the stained glass window. Not trying to seem eager, you made some noises so it seemed like you were busy with something…. And not waiting, just for him. A few more seconds later, you reached for the door handle and opened it slyly; the gush of North Yankton’s cool air invading your home. Refusing to look ahead, you gazed at the shoes before adjusting sight to the man who was not Trevor at all.

“Here’s your package, ma’am.” The guy (dressed in a blue uniform) said while handing a small box. He rushed away after you’ve confusingly collected the package, jumping back into his white van, leaving you embarrassed and ashamed.

All the energy built up to answer the door, you were burnt out and secretly annoyed. You couldn’t wait long enough for the weirdo to drop by. If he’s going to include you into his schedule, only during night times, then he is a goner.

Sneering at the thought of where he might be, you were unaware of the person jogging up to your driveway. Your back was turned and the moment you went to close the door, a hand grasped your clothed shoulder.

“What’s in the box?” The deep voice tormented.

Being spooked momentarily, you rotated to face Trevor who held a cocky grin. His cheeks were rosy due to jogging in this temperature. You found it adorable.

“Hey, Trevor.” Your tone was significantly low, refusing to overexcite his presence. It was very revealing. You could tell considering his eyes squinted with hidden amusement.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. Whatcha got in that package of yours? A dildo?”

Expecting nothing more of his commentary, you guided him towards your humble home, exiling the frosty skies. Trevor threw off his iconic green coat slimly. He was thinner than you thought. You could visualise his boniness from under the creased t-shirt that was half tucked in the blue, tattered jeans. The man leaped and began violating your sofa with his repulsive scent, thinking nothing of his physique.

“So,” Breaking the silence, you continued to hold the box in your hands, “What would you like to do?”

“What? Oh, oh yeah! I’m gettin’ bored of being with Mikey all the time. Thought I’d spend the day here.” Trevor yawned.

You watched him intently. He was focussed on the TV, slumping in his seat. He looked like he belonged here. How calm he seems, he pretends as though he pays the bills of this house.

“Michael is still bothering you?”

Trevor shrugged, “Gettin’ the feelin’ he ain’t appreciating my friendship.”

Friendship? At this rate, you’d think he was going through a divorce. The dedication of this thoughts that are buried with Mikey, you wouldn’t be surprised if they had something more than friendship. A situationship.

“Whatever. I hope you appreciate me, right?”

Deep in thought- you weren’t aware of the direct question. You were stood there, inches from the sofa, hand settled down right behind the pillow he was shifting in. Trevor frowned and clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Sunshine! Helloooo?”

Suppressing your rising concerns, you gave him a small smile, “Sorry, I zoned out a bit.”

Trevor rose his eyebrows, “No fuckin’ shit, girl. Come take a seat,” He patted the empty space next to him, “Let’s get comfortable.”

Sitting down beside the stinky man, you’ve came to the conclusion that he probably doesn’t have a place to stay. The anxiety that he’s using you for a home. While you don’t want to judge so quickly, the way he’s losing weight and letting his hair mangle… His whole appearance is shakenly handsome yet so dirty. He’s the definition of a drug user.

“You don’t wanna see Brad?” You inquired.

“Brad? I don’t know. He’s alright… I guess,” Trevor chimed, “Better than Mikey but he’s not the type of guy I wanna… Personally be around. I have no emotional connection with him. He’s more of a work partner.”

And Michael has an emotional connection with him? How strange. Whatever happened to their relationship, you’ll always wonder.

“Oh.”

Trevor gazed towards your vacant face, “You seem dreamy today, sugar. Was there an actual bomb in that box of yours? Have you got shell shock?”

“No,” You laughed, “I haven’t opened it. It’s probably a gift from my parents for Christmas. I can’t make it over this year.”

“That’s a shame. Why can’t you?”

“I’m busy with work.” You smiled.

Trevor scowled deeply, “You workin’ at Christmas?”

Nodding your head, he reacted as if you murdered his whole family.

“What the fuck? That is definitely a mental illness! You workaholic, I need to convert you! Why don’t I take you out drinking for Chrissy? Ay? Your little café can wait.”

“On Christmas? No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s only a morning shift.” You dismayed with a chuckle.

He didn’t seem to understand and held a tight grudge. His face moved closer to yours.

“Baby, you are on minimum wage and you are happy to work in that shit condition?”  

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes trespassed your nostrils and almost caused you to choke. It was inhumanly rotten. It smells as though he has corpses decomposing in his body. Suddenly your idealised image of him collapsed when facing the reality of Trevor.

“Friends help each other. I wanna make sure you ain’t wasting your life.” He insisted.

“You’re such a tease.” Mindlessly avoiding any confrontation due to tension- you pleaded for nothing more than peace and quiet.

“Hm?” His voice is beginning to exotically please you. The way he’d rumble, it held you at gunpoint. He was devastatingly fuckable. Wait. FUCKABLE? Without any false hope or modesty in your mind, it seizes the moment to uncomplicate repressed emotions. AKA, your desire to him. Being around him automatically destroys your filter. You had a mask of glass. There is no way to deny it.

“Sorry, what was that?” You deadpanned despite the awakening inside you.

“Ha, ha, ha!” Trevor mocked, “Very funny. I’m being serious though. A pretty face like you can’t be doing hard labour. I’d be the happiest man alive if I ever saw you stripping-“

You gave him a look of fury and he chuckled amongst his words.

“-not saying you should be! But you have the beauty of one. Natural beaut- No, wait. I meant not in general- Fucks sake. I didn’t mean to sound creepy!” He stuttered and grew disappointed in his mistake. Before he began falling off trail, you’d give him sneaky glances, the reason he tripped over his own words.

“Creepy?” You playfully smirked, “Why? You? Creepy? Not at all!” Sarcasm dripping from your mouth.

Trevor tried to seem unimpressed but couldn’t help break into a series of giggles. You shook your head with a grin, getting more comfortable around him.

“Okay, fine. I surrender to being creepy! You got me, sugar.”

“I didn’t know we were debating over that, sugar…”

“So what? You are using my words against me?” He eyed you as if you were his prey, “I like this game.”

It intimidated you. His pupils grew small and the colour of brown was tricked into flaring red and dark. Michael wasn’t joking about his abnormality. How inhuman it was to throw all your flaws into the eyes. You could see him through the thick and thin when devouring the look of his pupils. It told you a story of his rebellion and his uncontrollable danger. It was uncomfortably interesting.

You quickly collected the TV remote (horrified by him) and ruffled away from the man, “The game is over. What would you like to watch?”

He noticed your sudden change in mood and closely examined your bodily structure. Tense shoulders, wide eyes, dense legs, tightly closed mouth. You were stressed.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” Trevor assisted with great detail, “You were having fun not even seconds ago? Now you are squeezed in the corner like a cat with dementia.”

Demented cat? If he wasn’t an animal himself, you’d be damned.

“Nothing? I just wanted to give you space.”

His laugh antagonised your ears.

“Baby, space? If I wanted space, I’d get my space. Yeah?”

You nodded and reflected on your awareness. Play along and keep it cool then he won’t notice a thing.

“Now, since you’ve politely asked, let’s watch something cosy. Hm?” Trevor voiced, “How about a good old fashioned comedy. It seems as though you need a source of light to suck the misery out of your pussy paws.”

“Pussy paws? Nice, Trevor, very creative.” You muttered.

He hurled out a pathetic whine, “Just shut your bipolar mouth up and get back here, I’m gettin’ cold!”

“Use my blanket.”

“What? A fuckin’ blanket? What are you? My grandma?”

“Yes, Trevor. I am your goddamn Grandmother.” You snapped before routing out a good movie for you two to watch.

“I like your spunk, girl. If you get any sharper, I might just let you cut me with razor blades,” He whistled. “Obviously I’m joking. In case you fall into another phase of neglecting me.”

“Neglecting you?”

“Yeah! You neglect my feelings. I say something funny and you move away in a little temper.”

You huffed, “If that’s how you put it.”

“That is exactly how I put it,” Trevor tuned, “Now we have our affairs in order, can we just chillax, please? I didn’t turn up for nothin’.”

“What did you turn up for?”

He draped an arm sluggishly around your tense shoulder and released a deep groan. His head rolled back and you found yourself admiring his neck and collarbone. The way his white shirt would sink, showing hints of his pale shoulder; you sucked in your lips and refused to look anymore. It’ll only worsen your likeness of the delinquent.

“All these questions, how are you not runnin’ out? Am I that interesting? Jesus, whatever. I wanted to come and steal all your belongings.” You could tell he was mocking your peak interest and rolled your eyes.

The intro to the movie began. Your posture smoothly sunk into the seats of the sofa, settling beside the cause of your stresses. His thin arm engrossed your shoulders, pulling you closer and the sharp sensation of his bone clashing against your thick skin was itching your concern. It was daunting and praying for an excuse to detach yourself physically from the drug user isn’t going to come easy. Not unless you simply steer the gas and help yourself from the situation. You gonna get some meat onto his body if he considers you a friend. Taking his word for your own, friends help each other. You are doing him a massive favour.

“How could I forget? Let me get some food for us.”

The floor was absolutely covered in filth and leftover crumbs of the snacks you pulled out from the cupboards. You both decided to do a movie marathon, being hypnotised by the silver square screen that sat not even a feet away from the sofa. Trevor was hunched back with his legs upon your lap, stuffing his face with some chocolate bars and chips. It wasn’t a bother but a relief to see him eat something, and not waste his minutes breathing in the toxic chemicals of meth or whatever drugs he uses. His presence finally lashed out a beautiful comforting aura. There was no tormenting teasing or surprising debates, it was just a shared interest in entertaining movies.

There were moments you’d ponder into his occupied eyes and grow a sickening intuition that he’ll mark himself important in your future. His reoccurring theme of forcing himself into your life, startling your lifestyle, commenting on your hopes and dreams. Trevor’s need of 24/7 social energy is screaming at you in the face. He won’t simply go away without turning up again. The future you’ve planned out, you might have to reconstruct and base it of his personality. If you were going to avoid him in later life, you are going to act sooner than later, or you’ll be sorry. Or so you thought. Trevor’s entitled and rugged demeanour made you realise that maybe you should consider alternative paths. If you wanted to make a life out of yourself, you are going to need people along the way. Although you are not a user, Trevor would be helpful in discussing useful paths of business and routing your way through the ups and downs. Without him, you’d be relying on your own motivation, something that has been an issue since your early teens, considering you are still unable to process the feeling of quitting your full-time at the café.

You were tempted to scream and bust his eardrums for all the new emotions he’s making you feel. You’ve been in love before but never have experienced this thought process. Damn! You’ve never experienced someone like Trevor before. He was so hauntingly unforgettable. A few weeks ago, you’d be working overnight, now you were sat beside a homicidal maniac, recycling all the reasons he could be worth the time. Would he? The question was still unanswered. If Trevor wants you to stick around, he’ll have to prove his usefulness and gain your provided trust. He was sly enough to be allowed in your home, but he’ll have to try harder if he wants to carry on abusing your sad little crush on him.

“I’ve seen that actor before.” Trevor highlighted.

You had grown to the realisation that you’ve been staring daggers into his beady eyes. He was returning your peering glimpse and held a steady finger to the TV screen. You quickly averted your gaze and followed his gesture.

“Oh, yeah. He’s been in a lot of movies.”

He tilted his head, “I swear I saw him on a television show… I just can’t remember which one.”

Small talk was new, especially with Trevor’s smart tongue. It resurrected your insight of his manner.

“The late night one? He pops up every now and then. I haven’t really caught up with the shows anymore. I’m starting to prefer magazines.” You’d reply.

“You are a reader? Jesus, girl!” Trevor bullied, “That’s so boring. I’d rather watch a 12 hour documentary about deforestation.”

“That is exaggeration!”

He chuckled at your words. His smile gleamed, showing his faded laughing lines and rose-tinted cheeks.

“Exaggeration is my middle name.”

“I thought your middle name was creepy?”

Trevor jumped forward to tickle you as revenge for your playful insult. He held a snarky grin, hands waving itself across your stomach that suffocatingly destroyed you. Giving in to his tickle attack, you snorted and baffled while trying to cover up your funny spots.

“Stop!” You’d cackle.

He was hovering above your lying body and grazed his finger tips upon your neck, watching you laugh until you couldn’t breathe. The man found it hilarious himself before the cheery laughs died down and his face was inches away from yours. The profound exhaustion and tension made your blood rush up to your face. Glowing like a tomato in the dawn of Spring, you gulped at his unreeling eyes. Trevor seemed to be bewildered at the position as well and synched further away, disconnecting your bodily warmth. The cold air mounted your skin, missing the heaviness of his weight on you. The man crawled back to his side of the sofa and reached for the remote control. You remained struct in the lying position, staring at his emptiness. You’d realise how painful it was to be neglected moments before satisfaction. Guessing you’d do this to Trevor many times in the past, isolating yourself after a violation of your comfort zone, but this was out of character. Even for you.  

“Everything alright?” You questioned.

Trevor shrugged, “Yeah.”

He was blunt to the core. You were guilty with no evidence of reasoning.

“I don’t think you are.”

“Oh, why is that?” The ridiculed tone sent shivers down your spine. His grungy attitude coiled and warried away the joyful atmosphere.

“What is wrong?” You demanded.

Trevor gave you a side glare, “You are confusing.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Trevor hurried, “You are fuckin’ confusing, [Y/n]. I don’t know what you want. Every time I try and be friends, you push me away. When I was tickling you, I was fuckin’ touching you! You didn’t even batter an eye. What exactly is your issue with me, ‘cos there is something up. I’m not gonna pretend like you refused to look at me earlier today.”

Since when did he finally reach to that conclusion? Was he just holding it in, suppressing until the tickle attack? If he’s the one to talk, then you could run for America with all the reason’s you’d like to confront his ass.

“I was warming at you. Not everyone can adjust quickly.”

“What are you implying?” The man spat.

“You are taking this too personally, Trevor. You don’t expect me to be all happy dappy for a weekday morning? Especially when I know you are quite the individual. I’m tense now, like I was earlier, because I cannot understand you!”

“Understand me?” Trevor laughed, “Fuck right off! What don’t you understand?”

Processing your untameable thoughts, it slipped out unwillingly.

“I don’t understand why I like you! You… You are prone to violence and drugs! Yet I can’t look at you in the eye without feeling… Feeling things! Is that what you wanted to hear? You are quick to judge! The moment you began running your mouth with all the catcalls and fucking weird compliments, I still find myself attracted to it! I barely know you!”

Trevor took in your confession as he held a strong breath, his mouth twitching to form a timid smile. You were bright crimson after the embarrassing rant. Cowering behind your shaky hands, you felt him shift close. His hand met your lower back and his mouth just about touching your ear.

“Damn, sugar, I bet you feel light after saying all that, huh?” He tried to comfort.

“Shut up, Trevor. It’s not easy to say.”

The man rubbed your back, “I know, I know. Take it easy, there is no rush.”

“Rush for what?” You asked.

“Your feelings. I’ll have to admit it, [Y/n], I’d love to find myself a girl like you.”

He was also confessing and suggesting a date. You were overwhelmed.

“Trevor, I really don’t know what I wan-“

“Hey, take it easy. Remember? I’ll leave now. I’ve got somewhere to be with Brad, Lester and Mikey. I’ll give you a call… Or give me a call, anytime. I’ll answer.”

[death-in-a-handbasket]

crawls over. kind of hooked on these interpretations if i may so humbly request the doa trio

Absolutely you may (I am 2/4 tasks done and this is my silly little treat for doing my work)

Fyodor

-more deep set heavily lidded eyes, very much dark circles, there is a hazy sort of shady look about his gaze and his eyes are a dusty light violet

-pronounced nose with a bump in the bridge <3

-pale, but less porcelain pale and more ashen pale, he looks a little washed out and frail in that sense

-high cheekbones, thinner chapped lips that he frequently bites to the point of bleeding

-he has two modes of smile, one soft kind of docile smile that makes him look kind of unassuming, and one thin smile with teeth that makes him look eerie and sinister. let’s just say his rat logo fits him

-shoulder length straight black hair, kinda greasy tbh

-very thin and kind of frail, not much in the way of muscle mass when it comes to this man, you can see his ribs and hipbones when he’s got no shirt on

-thin hands that shake with short bitten down nails and scabs where he’s relentlessly bitten at his hands

-prone to aches in his hands and spine from sitting at his computer for so long, bro cracks like rice crispies and groans like an arthritic old man

-runs cold and bundles up a lot because he’s always freezing, bro has hands like ice cubes

-smells like the air out the computer vents, dust, and the smell after it rains

-has a softer mellow voice harboring an accent, never a loud man, always softspoken and sweet even when talking about the most gruesome things

-has the same energy as a hermit you encounter in passing while on a walk that you’re sure knows more and has more secrets than you do just from the the look in their eyes

Nikolai

-dimples man, with sharp teeth and a wide jester grin that tells you he’s no doubt up to something

-broader more squared off face, nose has a bump at the tip, angular but with flushed apple cheeks

-his eyes damn near disappear when he smiles, half moon shape angled upwards with the left eye being gold and the right eye being silvery blue, always has that crazy gleam in the pupils

-likes to wear rouge, dabs it on his lips, cheeks, and the tip of his nose, sometimes uses makeup to accentuate his scar, there’s also always glitter on him. somehow.

-silvery white hair with a warm undertone to it, you can see a little bit of a dark blonde/tan at his roots and other missed strands in his hair

-built broad and built BIG. broad shoulders, thick thighs, smaller waist, definitely strong arms and legs, definitely built like an acrobat, bro is DENSE

-big strong hands, short nails because it bothers him while he’s working

-has a loud jester’s cackle reminiscent of Mozart from the movie Amadeus, very loud and airy voice, higher pitched when he’s joking, but when he’s talking normally it’s surprisingly deep, slight accent

-smells like lipstick, funnel cake with powdered sugar, and specifically spent fireworks

-runs warm, somehow always toasty, won’t hesitate to start stripping off parts of his getup because he’s sweating

-is a bit like staring into a whirligig firework, it’s beautiful, it’s out of control, you like it at a distance but if it starts zooming towards you you’re gonna shit your pants in fear

Sigma

-softer more delicate features, nice lips, pointed chin, very straight nose

-round eyes that are slightly downturned, always has a somewhat concerned look, like he’s the only one in the play (life) without a script, pale gray eyes that look lavender in certain lights

-flawless skin without effort, smooth and soft as cream

-built lithe, low muscle mass but not scrawny, graceful and perfectly proportioned, built like a nymph fr fr

-very silky split color hair but strands from the other color cross over to the other side at his roots, so sometimes his purple has white strands in it and vice versa

-soft flawless hands, long nails, has the occasional light freckle on him and sometimes a papercut from working with cards and money frequently

-doesn’t smile as much as he’d like too, any time he does smile it’s always slightly tinged with melancholy

-can present a calm and charismatic face but when he’s not interacting with people he always carries a kind of focused stressed look about him

-neutral, never too warm or too cold, but gets cold very easily, somehow has a higher tolerance for being warm than being cold

-softspoken and straightforward, is not loud unless he’s panicking, has a voice that puts you at ease, like a neighbor you’ve known forever

-smells like cucumber, the textiles at a craft store, and money

-has the same energy as a hitchhiker that you know must’ve run away from a worse home just from the caged animal look about them, something worried yet slightly hopeful despite the pessimism that’s been ingrained in them

[alarrytale]

https://curiouscat.live/Shelleyann1817/post/1343796384

That anon is so right about how depressed and done he looked like how can that blog owner NOT see that?

Hi, anon!

Link to the anon. Link to the Dazed bts video in question.

I think H looks pale with bags under his eyes and he looks tired. He looks a bit on the thinner side here (his weight fluctuates) and he's got a mask on for some of it. To me it's possibly due to jet lag, lack of sleep, low energy due to a hectic schedule. Maybe he's sick or on his way to getting sick? He smiles and goofs around a bit in the middle of the video, so i don't think he's depressed. I don't think he looks done either, but he hardly cracks a smile. I understand why you think he looks unwell though. To me he looks a bit like he did on the Grammy's red carpet in 2023 when he wore the Harlequin jumpsuit.

[owlsandwich]

Since posting about Roy and Julian, I felt like putting up a little extract of when they meet in The Mechanics of Magic. It's interesting reading it now and seeing how my style has changed; I feel like I can see the flaws much clearer. Looking forward to editing the whole book again and sharpening it up.

---

Roy whirled around, but the library window remained shut, just as he had left it moments before. Flattening himself against the palace wall, he crouched low and edged to the side of the roof. A clamour of voices emanated from what must be the kitchen under his feet, words muffled and inaudible, but none called out an alert. Maybe the stress was getting to him.

He let out a breath, taking in the smell of cooking that drifted up from the open windows, and reached out with his magic sense. Immediately, he picked up the energy of mages in the room below; far stronger than expected, given the distance and brickwork between them. Perhaps this roof was thinner than it looked? Roy eased his way back to the corner of the building. No one appeared to have noticed his presence, but falling through the ceiling wouldn’t help.

“You done?”

He jumped at the sound of the voice. It was close, as though having come from right beside him, but there was nobody.

“Don’t mess me about!” Threats he could handle. Mostly. But if someone was playing with him, he’d rather not give them the satisfaction. “If you want a fight, then damn well come out and do it.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t ‘come out’ as you so put it, and I would get no benefit from fighting you,” The reply came in a masculine drawl. “Besides, I couldn’t kill you even if I wanted to. And trust me, I’m getting the unfortunate impression that I might want to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roy glanced back up to the closed window, the brickwork at his back doing little to reassure him of his safety. At least being attacked would prove he wasn’t losing his mind.

“Nothing.” The voice responded. “You aren’t losing your mind, by the way. But I would advise you stop talking out loud, unless you want someone else to come along and do the job for me?”

The guy could read his thoughts? Roy squeezed his eyes shut, the cold of the stone seeping through his stolen server’s jacket. For a moment there was nothing other than the shifting patterns of his eyelids and the sound of his own breathing.

“Oh no. Darkness. My one weakness.” The voice spoke with a biting sarcasm, and Roy yelped in surprise.

“Okay, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on,” He growled, heat flushing his face.

“Thoughts only, please. I can hear them just fine. And, yes, you should be embarrassed. What are you? A child?” 

A breeze broke the muggy air, brushing chill against Roy’s sweat damp hair and swirling the dirt on the little rooftop where he crouched. He might not feel thirty-one, but he’d been through enough in his life to deserve some respect.

Roy felt more than heard the self-pitying laugh. “Thirties? Please tell me I won’t have to spend another hundred years like this.”

“Look, I don’t know why you’ve decided to telepathically pick on me, but if you aren’t going to kill me then can you please just sod off?” He thought the words, trying to project them with the same glare he was wearing. “You might not have noticed, but I’m a bit of a difficult situation here.”

“You’re going to look pretty stupid if you make that face every time we talk.” The voice replied, and he wondered if punching himself would hurt them too. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

“You think?”

“Okay.” Somehow the voice gave an exasperated sigh, despite the fact Roy hadn’t heard it breathe. “I suppose some congratulations are in order. Apparently — and don’t ask me how — you’ve been chosen as a Royal Champion. Unfortunately, that also means I’m dead.”

Roy blinked. “Wait... You’re— you’re a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost.” 

“You literally just said you’re dead!” His skin prickled; he didn’t like that this had delved into the paranormal. It was pretty shady up here, but even so. “I thought ghosts didn’t come out in the day?”

There was a silence.

“...Why— why would you even think that?” The reply brought with it a flash of memory; a plush, emerald couch, legs draped over the armrest, thumbing through a dog-eared copy of ‘Hauntings of Ardveld’. A memory that definitely wasn’t Roy’s. “Anyway, that’s not the point of this conver—”

“Wait! What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That.” Roy gestured vaguely into the air before realising he couldn’t point at a mental image. “With the book and the chair and everything.”

“Oh...” The voice sounded embarrassed and for the first time, Roy sensed he had the upper hand. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I haven’t quite worked things out from this side, and it’s been a long day.”

“That was you, wasn’t it? Like, before you were a ghost?” Somehow having settled into the rhythm of this bizarre conversation, Roy stretched out his legs and leaned back to look up at the grey sky. A rumble in the distance told him the heat of the past few days was about to break. 

“...Ghosts don’t exist. But yes, that was me.”

Sorrow twinged Roy’s heart, and he realised it came from the presence in his mind.

“Hey. I’m really sorry you’re dead.” He’d seen enough television to be wary of the supernatural, but apart from a bad attitude, the ghost hadn’t caused any harm. “I guess you need me to help you move on or something?”

As if getting out of here wasn’t causing him enough issues already… 

Roy chewed at his lip, running over his options, when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait— you didn’t die back in the takeover did you?” Another silence followed his question. “You still there, mate?” He probed, wondering if his newfound psychic powers had departed as quickly as they had arrived.

“...What do you mean by ‘the takeover’?” An emotion hung behind the question that Roy couldn’t place. 

How to even explain it? A shock wave had run through the country when the news broke; adjustment to Ardveld’s new leadership happening like a surreal dream, one that had become mundane faster than he’d ever imagined. Today’s celebration was proof enough of that.

“How long has it been?” The question reminded him that the voice was able to follow his thoughts.

“Twenty years or something. Look, I’m sorry, I should have broken that more gently.”

“I had the impression some time had passed but... It’s fine.That goes some way to explaining you, at least. Listen quietly,” The voice continued before he could interrupt. “I worked for the King; one of the four Champions. I was in charge of Ardveldian intelligence.”

“Intelligence?” This time Roy couldn’t help himself. “You were a spy? Like, the Spy, spy?”

What limited information he had about Ardveld’s Royal Champions was common knowledge; Friend, Tactician, Guardian, Spy. After the King, they had been the four most powerful mages in the country. Roy must have been the last generation to learn any Royal history in school and even back then he had wanted as little to do with them as possible.

“Spy is such a vulgar term, but if you wish to refer to yourself that way, I suppose I can’t stop you.” The Spy obviously sensed Roy wasn’t following, as he gave another sigh. “I already told you. When one of us dies, the power is passed on to the next... suitable candidate. Apparently, you were the best it could find.”

“What!” Roy exclaimed out loud, just as the first drop of rain spat onto his nose. He wiped it off, forming a shield above his head to block the shower. “No! Why would you choose me? You’ve definitely messed something up there.”

“I’m afraid I have no control over who the power goes to. Not that we didn’t try, of course. There are certain conditions that we know influence it.”

“You can shove your conditions! There isn’t even a Royal Family anymore. No Champions. Everyone who was there died that day. Everyone...” He grit his teeth. The injustice still burned. It wasn’t like his mother had ever been a threat to Vailberg. 

“That’s your mother?” Curiosity emanated from the Spy and Roy forced the image away.

“Get the fuck out of my memories.” 

“...I apologise,” he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Roy. And I’m not anyone’s kiddo.”

“You can call me Julian. We may as well be on a first name basis, since it appears we are going to be working closely together for some time.”

[somediyprojects]

DIY Copper + Branch Floor Lamp

Project by Kate Pruitt:

We have this very annoying tree right outside our apartment that blocks all light from our windows, thwarting the sun’s attempts to warm us with its golden rays of energy. Damn you, tree! Recently I begged our landlord to at least consider trimming it back, and he finally relented, which left me with both a modicum of precious sunlight and some great large branches to use for projects! One of the felled limbs was especially long and solid and had a wonderful, gentle arc that just seemed so lamplike; I couldn’t resist. “I’ve lost my purpose. Make me a light!” it cried. Not really.

With autumn upon us, I decided to pair the branch with rich, warm copper and used a lovely sap-green color on the base to complement the season. Personally, I like the wonky bare-bones style of this little lamp, but if you wanted to dress it up a bit (my boyfriend said the copper part looked like a shower head . . . not cool dude), you could easily make or buy a solid cylindrical shade to place over the bulb. Now, don’t go hacking down trees like I did, but if you happen upon a fallen branch, I hope you’ll try this simple lighting project. Happy crafting! — Kate

Materials

large branch (Look for one that isn’t too perfectly straight or too twisty but has a slight arc to it and is at least 1.5″ thick at its base to ensure it’s sturdy enough.)

log stump slice (Mine is prop from a friend’s wedding, but you can ask around at lumber yards for these, or you could buy several thinner ones from craft stores like Michael’s and glue a stack together to make a thick base. If all else fails, try searching for firewood sellers on Craigslist, and ask if they have any stumps they could cut for you.)

4–6 small eye hooks (depending on the length/height of your branch)

15–20′ black lamp cord

chandelier socket kit

6″ copper pipe (1/2″ diameter — you can have this cut for you, or buy a standard length and use a pipe cutter to cut yourself)

90-degree copper elbow (1/2″ diameter)

1/2″ to 3/4″ copper coupling

3/4″ copper coupling (NOTE: All the copper pipe and pieces can be found at larger hardware stores like Ace, OSH, Home Depot, Lowe’s, etc., in the plumbing dept.)

high-gloss paint and foam paintbrush (any color you want, I chose sap green)

palm sander or sandpaper

drill with standard bit, 1.5″ boring bit (also known as a paddle bit) and a 1/2″ boring/paddle bit

25- to 40-watt chandelier-size lightbulb

Instructions

1. Sand your wood stump slice and cut the bottom edge of your branch with a saw to make a flat surface. Hold the branch over your wood stump to determine placement. I decided to set mine off-center for looks and to offset the arc of the lamp, but you could also place it in the center. Trace the branch with a pencil to mark the spot.

2. Use your 1.5″ boring bit to drill a circular hole in the center of where you traced the branch. Then switch to a small drill bit (1/8″ or smaller) to drill a small pilot hole directly through the center of the hole through the entire stump. This is the pilot hole for the screw or nail that you will embed from the bottom.

3. Place a good amount of wood glue onto the bottom of your branch and into the hole you made, then put the branch in place. Put tape around the base to secure it in place and set aside for the glue to dry. You may need to prop the branch against a wall to hold it in place while the glue dries.

4. Once the glue is dry, hammer a 2″ nail or screw a flathead screw into the base of the branch from the underside of the stump, using the pilot hole you pre-drilled. This is not necessarily needed, but I like to add it for extra stability on top of the glue.

5. Assemble your copper fittings and pipe together as shown below, and hold it up to the branch to determine where you want the pipe to extend. Mark the place on the branch where the pipe will come out, and also mark on the pipe where it hits the back of the branch to determine the correct length to cut the pipe.

6. Use your 1/2″ drill bit to drill straight through the branch. Drill slowly and carefully to avoid cracking the branch, and don’t go so far up the branch that the hole is almost the exact width of the branch; ideally, you want at least 1/4″ to 1/2″ clearance on the width. Use your pipe cutter to cut the pipe to length.

7a. Prepare your copper parts for assembly by removing stickers and cleaning them. Use scissors to gently strip 1″ of the lamp cord to expose the copper wires. If you examine your lamp cord, you will see that one of the cords has ridges and one side is completely smooth. You will also notice on your chandelier socket that one screw is brass/gold and the other is silver. Wrap the copper wire of the cord with ridges to the silver side, and wrap the copper wire of the smooth cord to the gold side (see second image below). Then slide the protective cardboard sleeve back over the socket.

7b. Now thread your 1/2″ to 3/4″ coupling onto the cord, with the larger side facing the socket, and slip it over the top of the socket. Slide your copper elbow onto the cord, as well, and fit the two copper pipes together. Then slide the last 3/4″ coupling over the cardboard sleeve so that the end of the copper coupling extends just a hair beyond the cardboard sleeve.

8. Slide your cord through the hole until the pipe reaches the branch, then wedge the pipe into the branch until it hits the back of the hole but does not extend out (see first image below). Then attach your small eye hooks so that the cord will match the curves of the branch. Thread the cord through the eye hooks.

9. Paint the top of your log with two to three even coats of high-gloss paint, allowing the paint to dry between coats. Tape up the cord during this process so it doesn’t get in the way.

10. Install the plug on the end of the lamp cord, using the same wiring technique from Step 7: Remove the rubber on the last 1″ to reveal copper wires and twist the copper around the screws, pairing the ridged cord with the silver screw and the smooth cord with the gold screw.

You’re done!