#i went in with a solid mental image for this one and i think i pulled it off pretty well!

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Sister Psychic won't you tell me does it ever get better Can you really see the future or just predict the weather

Spotify link to Sister Psychic by Smash Mouth

Youtube link to Sister Psychic by Smash Mouth

This is my second piece for @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza!

[kurishiri]

on my way to start William’s route, but as for the other two…

official Ikemen Villains twitter posted templates and so I took used them, ehe. Minor route spoilers ahead, maybe, as I delve into some personal thoughts! You can click on the images for higher quality; I put content warnings for each route there too, though I may have missed a couple here and there.

Liam — key word: “tomorrow”

the themes in the story really add to the story’s poignancy, and I think it was interesting how they chose to make Liam an actor — as that part of his character played a significant role in the story and its themes.

I don’t have a very high sexy rating here relatively, and that’s not to say there aren’t sexy parts, but I think the presence of it feels a bit dampened by the fact I either didn’t purchase premium stories so it felt like the sexual scenes happened off screen in my personal experience or just that the story was overall so heavy with Liam’s mental struggles. Also, Liam was my first route, so I didn’t really have any other rating to compare it to. So I figured it was good to start somewhere in the middle and go on from there. Overall, I felt it was more romantic than sexy (especially if you look at, well… Alfons). To me, it’s not a bad thing! I’m just as alright with a story not having any sexual scenes as I am with one containing them.

honestly Liam’s route is probably the closest I’ll get to romancing Kate — because I related so much to Liam, he hit a bit too close to home sometimes lmao

Harrison — key phrase: “that doesn’t sound half bad.”

overall, I feel his story was solid. If you were to ask me between Liam and Harrison, whose route I enjoyed more, I would probably say Harrison. I enjoyed Liam as well for what it was, but I feel Harrison’s route is just more… fun.

to be completely honest he was really frustrating in the first few chapters. And the way the first sort of conflict ended between Kate and Harry still left me a bit frustrated. Even now, I sometimes wish it ended a bit differently, but I can understand as the story went on that Harry always had kind intentions toward Kate. He always had — since the beginning.

his romance definitely felt more subtle (and I loved that), since even if he has feelings for you, he always masks it with a half truth or a lie. And boy, is he good at lying 😂👌 at first they were really frustrating, but later there were a couple lies that are kinda funny that I can’t help but love him for his funny (and sweet) lies. Interpreting his half truth half lie words is like translating from another language lmao

reading Harrison’s route felt like reading a mystery and adventure novel at once. And I think if you want like to get a good taste of everyone else’s dynamics (without overshadowing Kate and Harry’s) in action and outside of it, it’s best to read Harry as opposed to Liam, in my opinion.

if you have any thoughts and opinions about the two, I’d love to hear!

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 18

Synopsis: The Doctor makes good on his thoughts. His fawn becomes trapped in them.

A/n: listen I know it's been fucking ages. Life's difficult. I'm back. Hopefully. Yall still want him? Warnings for blood and such.

You felt yourself muffle a yawn as you stumbled half-drunk with your boyfriend holding you upright. You settled on calling him your boyfriend. It felt, at least partially, correct. You didn’t really know how long that his species lived. He could have still been young by his standards. Well over two-thousand years young, but you mentally digressed.

The night air slapped you sober.

You didn’t realize how much you had drunk. Your mind was absolutely swimming. It felt like you couldn’t maintain a solid stream of thought. Moreover, it felt entirely different than your usual scatter-brained web of concepts that could be linked easily by you and you alone. Many found you off-topic or impertinent, but they didn’t get that you were being respectful and your mind was linking everything to the subject at hand that was even vaguely related.

The Doctor did, however. These thoughts soothed you. Thinking about him was becoming more important than air in your lungs. He seemed to always be exactly in your direction and understood what was going on.

You blinked as quickly as you could as you were slumped into the taxi by the Doctor. His brilliant smile beamed at you like the cat and that dammed canary. No one you had met before or since carried the gravity of his grins. His teeth always on display, even if it his mouth had been turned down and closed. Images of wolves suddenly floating in your head.

You really must have over estimated that last drink!

His fingers played with the tendrils of your hair. Smoothing it, fingering the last of your dead ends.

They felt good. You felt both emboldened by this tactile display of affection and a little embarrassed. The thoughts you always had towards him felt warranted. Always. He was always inviting them, even if he didn’t seem like it. That was something that stuck with him since the first time you walked into his classes.

Tactile and seemingly unaware that the entire way he carried on was like catnip. Or he was aware and didn’t care. You didn’t know or care.

All of time and space, countless lovers. Countless companions. Endless wanderlust…

And here he was. Some universal warrior deity. Yet, here he was settling down, taking cabs and being escorted around just because you frankly didn’t want to become a statistic. He apparently had the ability to pick up and go to whenever, wherever and not have to worry about traffic or delays.

But for you? He had tamed himself.

His universe had become small, just you, his very attractive ex-situationship in her hidden Vault, these military organizations, and that Nardole you’ve never seen.

From the complaints left by him over literally everything, (including your relationship with the Doctor!) You weren’t quite sure you wanted to meet him.

What a nerd and a narc!

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the room. All cozy and pliant. Eager to see him naked and act out all of those hidden thoughts that you couldn’t repress in the pub. Your wobbly legs betrayed you as you went to yank your shoes off and toss your purse down.

“Damn.” You giggled as you adjusted yourself and rub the bridge of your nose with the base of your palm. “Tell me to never drink that much again in public…” You shook your head.

He leaned down to your level and bit your lower lip as he pulled your top off and laying feverish new bites on where he bit you last night. Hard, sharp and definitely not helping that growing wet spot on your panties. One of those impressive, perfect hands grasped your jaw and covering virtually all of your face squeezed lightly.

You felt your mind suddenly grow very dim and yet ravenous. You needed this, you needed him.

He certainly had no troubles liberating you from your clothes. Or somehow getting his belt and pants around his knees.

“You’re really something strange, aren’t you?” He mused as he tore himself out of the flesh of your nipple. You could feel the blood start to fleck up.

Definitely would have to take even more time off work than you already were doing…

He slowly and deliberately pinned you to the ground as he managed to take both of your wrists in one of his long-fingers hands. His expression clouded by lust and one of those emotions you thought were clearly something that humans just didn’t have in them. It seemed imperious and predatory, yet all too adoring.

You were awash. Your cunt ached. Your mind felt itself retract- like you were actively getting stupid trying to make eye contact with him. You felt yourself muffle a groan as he slipped his cock in in a firm and savage thrust.

The hand at your jaw and face tightened. You could feel the corner of a nail cut into your face.

This seemed about you and also not. More about him.

All your training (for lack of a better word…) seemed to flee. Here he was, one of the last of his species, cradling your pinned body to the hull of the floor as he drilled your leaking pussy. It seemed like he was saying something in that horrific, almost song like language he used to visit Missy in her Vault.

It sent a bone-chilling shake through your system. Just like when you first heard it. Not that you could judge.

Not like you could at this moment. His grip on you increased as he fucked you harder. Each thrust came quicker and deeper. You found the pain both increasingly hard to ignore but more lovely with each savage groan he made. It was enjoyable. Too much so. Felt alien. Felt deranged.

The grip on your face tightened once more! Your tongue pinned by his thumb.

You felt yourself start to convulse as your mind went blank. Blissfully and inhumanely blank. Did you cum? Was this you cumming? You didn’t know.

You didn’t even register his teeth nearly ripping the soft area between your neck and clavicle to shreds.

How long did he go on? You could swear you heart a haunting song being sung in your mind. Time slipped further down…

Was it more of him speaking?

You finally got your mind back in pieces as he finished on your stomach. The sensation snapped you back to reality. Your heart began racing. You felt yourself start to cry.

You felt so great, yet more than a little violated. (Was this normal, you felt yourself wander in your mind, what was this?)

He seemingly realized something.

He shushed you as he collected your shaking form in his lap. You felt so tiny. Like a small dog on a rich lady’s lap. You felt your eyes try to focus on him.

“My sweet fawn. You did so well. You’re so perfect for me.” He resumed in English.

His hand wiped the tears and blood and your hair back.

Your eyes couldn’t focus completely yet.

“You are…all I need. All I want.” He reassured you as he rocked you back and forth. “Don’t worry. No one in any corner of the universe can lay a finger on you.”

This was the comfort that restored your vision entirely. You looked at him. You felt like you were some primitive human seeing a God! Scared, in full adoration, and more than a little servile. The tears began again. More shushing, more petting, more praise. You curled so deeply into his chest and wept harder. You swore you never cried so hard in your life. You felt so incredibly good, yet every part of you burned and ached.

You hiccupped and he stroked the back of your neck. It made you go slightly limp.

“Why don’t I wash you, hmm?” He offered as he pulled you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom. He laid you down and grabbed your shower stuff.

He tested the water on him. It seemed to go on for a while.

He washed you and even did your skin care on your still limp form.

“Fawn?” He asked as you caught your body in mirror. You were pale and bruised. Scabs had started to form on you.

It was shocking.

“I…can’t work like this?” Was all you managed to choke out.

“I’ve got you. When were back in Bristol, yeah? I’ve gotten some alien technology in my TARDIS. You won’t even have a scar.” He offered, a smile creeped up his face. It seemed smug and self-serving.

You shook yourself.

You trusted him, fully without any hesitation. If he said so, he said so.

He slid your into your pajamas and slid next to you in bed. Still naked.

“Sleep.” He commanded as he wrapped his arms around you. “Tomorrow, I need your help.”

And as if by magic, you felt yourself slip into a deep sleep. You dreamed of swirling galaxies and more strange songs twisted into it.

When you woke, it was with such a fright. He wasn’t next to you, and it made you panic. He was already dressed. He was twirling some object in his hands.

“You’ve slept in. Not that I can blame you…” He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing clothes. I’ve even got breakfast!”

He offered you a cup of coffee and helped you out of bed.

It was simple, a black tank top and a pair of jeans. He offered you the sheer lace shrug you planned on using as layering if he took you out again for a night out on town.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you.” He slid you a gold chain with a small, but heavy pendant on it. It had some small circular design on it. It swirled around itself and had some dots in places.

“I know how you enjoy jewelry.” He motioned to the tangled knot of necklaces you wore all day, every day, even in sleep.

You went to put it on. It rested as if fighting the small symbols of your faith for attention on your person. Or, perhaps, even your soul itself...

He parted them for you and made sure that his special necklace rested firmly under the hollow of your throat.

“I meant it last night. Not even the Cybermen could take you from me. The entire dark hoards of the Never Were’s and Always Was’s will not harm you so long as you’re by my side.” His tone shifted as he helped you help yourself to a bit of the porridge he had for you.

You still shook.

He let you apply your make up. You decided it was no use to try to waste all your concealer and foundation on the wounds on your neck.

He tousled your hair and smiled at you.

He helped you into your shoes and you both walked out of the door. You firmly found your nails grasping into his coats arm as you still were having trouble even standing, yet alone walking.

The lift ride down into a subterranean area, meeting all these people was quiet. Petronella and that Lethbridge-Stewart woman and more were waiting.

They all focused on you and you could feel their eyes bore into your neck and chest. You didn’t know what to feel.

You instinctively took all your cues from him.

All these soldiers and scientists did too. They all spoke of things that seemed beyond your recently tousled-haired comprehension.

When the Doctor spoke to you, and used your real name to get your opinion, you jumped. To hear your own name, especially from him now seemed foreign.

A fawn you shall be, you felt yourself say in your mind.

You made up some fake statistic about something. You had to. Your mind was flailing and you looked at your good Doctor as if that would help.

You mind felt never more silent. It felt odd.

You shook yourself once more.

You felt your mind flood back in. It was a sharp, tickling sensation. Loud, screaming and on high alert. As if it had been forced down and silenced on purpose.

You swept those thoughts aside. He needed you, and needed you to focus and help him.

Suddenly all the tawdry statistics about crime in metropolitan areas you studied for papers came rushing in. It was very good. Apparently, they were looking for what petty crimes could be aliens doing a bad job at integration and were pushing some prearranged boundaries on when they could emerge and the planet could feasibly support aliens and humans as willing co-sponsors of the planet.

They took your data and entered it in.

Success!

“She’s a whizz with those, yeah?” The Doctor pointed at hand at you and praised you openly. “Great stuff.”

It made your cheeks flush and your panties get a little wet spot on them. You felt nothing but a soothing warmth spread from your scalp to the soles of your feet.

Him and a few other scientists went to go prime something. You didn’t know what.

You went to the small area set up for self-service of tea and coffee. Petronella trailed after you. It was a hard journey, you wobbled a few times for such a short trip.

“Those are some marks?” She pried at you as she pointed towards where the Doctor had given you in the night. “Were you attacked last night when you were out?” The deep care and worry in her voice made you feel a vacant ache in your chest.

“No, no. No?” You stuttered. Your hand automatically went to the most egregious of them. Teeth marks fully imprinted as reddish-black stabbed divots.

“Then where’d you get them?” More concern in her tone.

Your eyes flashed over to the Doctor and then to the ground. You didn’t know how to respond.

She muttered a barely audible “Oh.” Her eyes gazed at you with understanding. “Did you have fun?” She asked for lack of a better way to press on. Her eyes looked back at the Doctor and back at the mess that was your neck and chest in a few quick takes. She seemed like her mind was trying to wrap itself around something.

Did you? You could hardly recall most of it.

You chalked it up to the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “We had fun.”

She didn’t seem to disagree. Although, a glint of something rested in the back corners of her eyes…

She trailed you back to your seat.

You let a long, shaky breath as you went to sip more coffee. You wished he was the one helping you drink. Your hands still were not exactly stable. Him doing that at breakfast was oddly fitting. Felt like it should be that way.

You gave more opinions and input. He lauded on the praise.

The wet spot was growing in size under your jeans. Your cunt was positively aching once again. Your heart raced.

It felt like he was winding you up.

Maybe he was…

[miriadalia]

Alright, Cobra Kai part 2 leak below, possible spoiler (?), so don't read if you don't want to know about it

So, this image of someone's hand (someone wearing a black gi) has got everyone so hyped (?) or worried (?), depending on the person.

I'm definitely on the worried side because of one leak from Cobra Kai Dark. Until now everything this site has said has become true (I'm talking about the fights we see on the trailer and the one on the sneak peek). This leak implies that that hand is Kwon's and that he's gonna steal the knife Kreese brought from Korea. Then he'll hide it inside his gi but one mistake in a kick will cause him to fall right into the knife, which would pierce his heart and kill him in an instant...........

Riiiiiight...

That doesn't make any sense

I'll start pointing out the obvious:

Kwon is impulsive, cruel and a little bit crazy. But he's not stupid. Not enough to bring a freaking knife to a fight so that he could fall on it. If he takes the knife it will be to fight against someone because of some reason, not to hide it beneath his clothes.

What would that reason be though? He's angry someone won against him and eliminated his team? Probably Robby or Miguel? That's so unserious. I see him starting a karate fight to lash out at them but not becoming a murderer right before the final ON LIVE TELEVISION!!

And if they really chose to make him go that mental, why? WHY?? What purpose would it fulfill inside the main plot? Johnny and Daniel finally becoming good senseis together? Kreese leaving karate because he feels guilty? I think they can make those decisions without a teen dying...

What about the kids?? How do you think Kwon's death will affect Tory after all she went through??

She's already lost her mother to an illness, a brother because she can't take his custody, her boyfriend and friends because they weren't there for her...

Now are you really telling me she's going to lose his teammate and co-captain who she trained with for months, who's probably a close friend by now if she lets him put his arm around her shoulder? FOR REAL?

Do they really think a teenage girl who just lost her mom and is alone in the world is gonna be: oh, well, he's dead now, how sad... So, when will the female final be? I'm still winning this shit!

Or worse, making her even more traumatised and never coming back to karate again...

Because don't try to convince me that she's just going to be a little sad and then look for comfort in Robby's arms and come back to Miyagi Do because she saw "what Cobra Kai really does to you" in Kwon's death........ I think she already knows what Cobra Kai really does to you when she had to PUNCH A FKING SOLID STONE and break her hand!!!

If she's back to Cobra Kai even after all she went through there is because of the "promise" she made to her mom to be a fighter and (though I think this plot line has been completely erased for another incomprehensible reason) because of her only family left: her 8-year-old brother.

If they plan to change this inner motivation with: I joined them because I wanted to be captain and since you replaced me I wanted to show you what you have lost... I'll unsubscribe Netflix 💔

You just can't build the most complex character in the series and then completely discard her potential.

Now I'll tell you what I think about that scene on the trailer and whose hand I think (hope) it is:

First of all, I can see that hand is absolutely masculine. I saw some people online wondering if maybe that's Kim Da Eun's hand but I seriously doubt it.

Second of all, the gi we see is black, unless they wanna play with the "oh, it was just the lighting" thing and then make it a dark blue or brown... But I don't think so. I really think it's a Cobra Kai student's gi.

But if not Kwon's? Whose hand is it?

This is when things get deep and interesting...

I saw this months ago and didn't really pay attention to it, but now... It's my ray of hope:

This theory I read said that it was leaked that episode 12 from season 6 is almost completely a flashback, since no one from the main cast is featured in it. So it has to be a flashback from even before Kreese and Silver were in Vietnam. Maybe we'll get to know a little bit of the story behind Miyagi's dark past already in part 2?

What if that was Kim Sun-Yung's hand when he was younger? Or someone from his family that fought against Miyagi and then died?

It's just a crazy theory, but I can't find a reason why they would make Kwon use the knife. If he really does, I hope is a form of self-defence because an armed fight has started (Maybe against Silver or a bigger enemy?).

And, well, if they really decide to make Kwon go all gore then I WANT CONTEXT. Why does he want to win so badly that he's ready to fatally injure (even kill) another teen? We only had a few scenes of him in part 1, but when he decided to say as Kreese suggested and attack the other students to prove he was the best of them all, that was only because those three had pushed him down the stairs, stone stairs. Who wouldn't be mad after that?

By now we haven't seen him being violent with other people because he can. He was something as the cocky class clown, showing off his skills and making acid remarks when the teachers asked questions. But that was it. Even when Kim Da Eun grounded him for not following the lesson and made him clean her grandfather's toilet, he almost immediately obeyed and didn't do anything in revenge to the rest of the class for laughing at him.

I've had some classmates like him during my school days and I would prefer spending an afternoon with them than with the teacher's pet that looked down at me and then talked badly behind my back 😅

Anyways, I don't want to go off topic. We'll get all the answers when part 2 is finally released 🙏🏻😭

[deans-baby-momma]

Secrets & Desires- Part 1

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Reblogs and likes are nice but feedback is better.

Sam has been keeping a secret from Dean. For a while now - it’s killing him but he doesn’t know how to explain it to his older brother. How do you tell someone you’ve looked up to your whole life that you’ve finally found someone who gets you; who has the same sexual energy, desires and fetishes? And that she’s older. 

Dean would probably not bat an eye, even be proud of his little brother for a moment. Until he found out who Sam has been sneaking around with. And it all started with one little phrase during a case. 

2012

“Do I have to use my ‘mom voice’?”

Jody Mills was not someone Sam ever thought of in a sexual way. She was a friend, a fellow hunter but when he returned to the first floor after finding Dean’s note and the sheriff actually used her ‘mom voice’ on him, it did something to him. 

Sam wasn’t going to pursue it. He thought she was just being a caretaker, looking out for him because she saw how exhausted he was……and maybe she was but even after they retrieved Dean and went their separate ways, Sam couldn’t get the image of Jody being Mommy for him.

When Crowley almost took Jody’s life in a bid to get the Winchesters to stop trying to close the gates of Hell, Sam decided it was now or never. He was going to make a move, but before that could happen, the trials almost claimed his life.

The next time they met up for a case, Sam could barely look at Jody. The dreams that his imagination had conjured up left him wound up about the woman who’d lost almost everything. And when Sam and Dean signed the chastity vow, he figured he probably needed to just forget everything.

Until Jody said something when they figured out Dean was boning the chastity group’s counselor, Suzy, a reformed porn star.

“I’d like to whip his tail for thinking with his dick instead of his brain during a case!”

Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. So as they stood in the remnants of Dean and Suzy’s abduction, Sam pulled Jody to him and kissed her soundly before uttering, “You can spank me anytime, Mommy.”  

"Sam?" Jody says incredulously, making Sam want to shrink into oblivion.  Had he read the situation all wrong? Was the vibe she was emitting completely innocent and he just made a giant mistake?

"Oh god Jody," he begins pulling away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sam Winchester!" Jody scolds, shutting the tall hunter up. She wraps her arms around his waist and places her hands on his ass. "I would love to use my crop on this ass," she tells him with a quick squeeze. "Fuck, I bet you could bounce a nickel off that."

Sam feels himself blush at her observation. But he mentally pats himself on the back because he had been correct, she was into the whole Mommy kink - or at least ready to give it a go. He smiles as he plants his hands on her cheeks and leans down and captures her lips again.

Jody wastes no time allowing him entrance between her lips. She had been attracted to Sam for years. He just exuded confidence and security and she had thought she sensed a bit of a kinky side to him once or twice. 

Now she knew what he was into, she had no problems being that for him. She couldn't wait to see the big, strong, brave hunter become submissive and complacent in her bed.

The kiss seemed to become a battle for dominance but Jody knew just what to do to gain the upper hand.  She slid her hands down Sam's back and once again cupped his buttocks before lifting her right hand and landing a solid smack on his left cheek.

Sam moaned into her mouth, giving her the advantage to take control. Once air became a necessity,  the two pulled apart and Jody looked up at him through her lashes. "There's more where that came from," she teased. 

Sam opened his mouth to respond but with an inhale, he got a slight whiff of Dean's cologne and remembered the case.

"As much as I want to continue this," he said remorsefully. "We need to find my brother."

Jody nods and steps out of the embrace, but not before locking Sam in a commanding look  "Once we find Dean, you come to my room and get your comeuppance. You understand Mister?"

Sam's dick twitched in his jeans at the assertiveness. The authority in her voice made him want to obey, like a good little boy. 

"Yes ma'am."

Once they discovered the monster, a Roman goddess named Vesta that was kidnapping and killing virgins, the hunter and the sheriff learned that the only way to kill it was oak stained in virgin blood.  They also learned from a staticky and short phone call from Dean that he and the others were being held at an old farm near train tracks.

With an oak stake dipped in the blood of one of the chastity group members, they arrive at the farm and hunt for the goddess and her victims. 

In a bid to save Dean and the others, along with Sam who was knocked unconscious,  Jody goes up against the monster - getting stabbed herself.

Still, she used what strength she had left to kill Vesta and save them all.  Jody Mills wasn't going to have more deaths on her conscience, especially that of her friends and possible future lover.

Only that would have to hold off, as she herself was too injured to participate in those types of events.

While Dean was off checking on Suzy and the others, Jody  and Sam concluded that as soon as she healed, she would call him.

"I'd tell you boys to stay out of trouble," Jody says later in the Winchester's motel room, looking from one to the other. "But what's the point?"

Dean hugs her and thanks her for bailing him out. She hugs Sam and then takes the bag he hands her. She glances at Dean to see he has turned his back on them so she whispers, "I'll call you. Be a good boy."

Sam subtly nods and is rewarded with a wink and an air kiss. He watches as Jody walks out the door. 

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70 @crownoflillies1

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 20

Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room. 

I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?” 

I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”

I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.

Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.

I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips. 

“Gods, that’s good.”

“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.

“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”

“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”

Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”

“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”

“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.

“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door. 

“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.

Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair. 

I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.

I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.

He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.

“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.

I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair

“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi. 

He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp. 

The sensation slams into me like a truck.

My body goes rigid,  hands clenching into fists on the table. 

My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.

The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.

My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.

Which is, very decidedly, not an option. 

Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.

I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.

Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”

“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”

Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.

Fucking children.

“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor. 

I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.

“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.

Violet.

“Yea. I will be.”

I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room. 

I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there. 

I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.

I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.

Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.

I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.

I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.

A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.

My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell. 

She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.

She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.

Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.

“Is  that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.

I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.

Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”

“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.

Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.

“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”

Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.

I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.

“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.

For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out. 

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.

“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this. 

My nightmare and my daydream.

Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers. 

There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.

“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”

“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”

“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”

My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.

She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.” 

Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.

The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”

Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of  hot, needy desire rocks into us both. 

She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.

The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”

“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”

My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.

“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”

Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath. 

“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”

I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother. 

There’s no choice to be had. 

“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”

“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”

“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.

Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”

“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.

“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored. 

She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”

Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”

She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”

My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.

I come up short.

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.

“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.

She amazes me.

“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.

As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.

“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.

I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”

Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.

“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”

Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”

She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable. 

The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks. 

I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.

And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”

My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.

Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.

“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.

“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.

Good girl, Violence. 

“There you go. Keep going.”

She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration. 

I want to put my mouth on her.

“I’ve got the door shut.”

I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.

“Great. Lock it.”

I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.

“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”

She nods.

“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”

A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.

She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.

My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.

Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.

And then she smiles at me.

Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.

 My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.

I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in. 

And then Garrick’s words hum through me.

“Be smart.” 

I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”

“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.

The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.

“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes. 

To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control. 

“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.

“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.

I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.

There’s none left.

“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine. 

I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.  

But it’s not enough.

It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access. 

She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily. 

Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. 

“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine. 

She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.

“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.

I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth. 

At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.

Dangerous.

My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.

Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.

I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.

The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.

I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.

Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear. 

She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.

I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss. 

I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.

There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.

What the fuck.

Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.

She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.

The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.

She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.

I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.

This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.

And me. 

Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.

I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.

I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.

“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour. 

Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything. 

“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.

“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”

“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.

She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.

The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.

[classicsubliminalbo]

Assimilation: Shelby's Dream

Originally published Sep 5, 2017 This series is being revised

"At first I didn't even recognize that it was a scream," Alex said. "But I look across the street, I can barely see except for what the street lamps show me, and I see this rustling. Two people near the allyway." "No shit," Shelby gasped between a mouthful of pizza. "Yeah, shit!" Alex exclaimed, did a check around the restaurant, then lowered his voice. "Yeah, shit. I don't know what I'm gonna do, I don't know what I'm gonna say, but I know I've gotta be something. So I sprinted. I mean, I'm Usain Bolt getting across that street. As I get closer I see it's a guy on top and he's fighting with a girl under him and I think, 'I've gotta make as much noise as I can.' So I start shouting." "And then what?" "He looks up at me and he's like a deer in headlights. He takes off, and I walk the girl home." "Did you do anything about the guy?" Alex shrugged, "I reported it to campus police. They never caught the guy." "Jesus," Shelby sighed. "I mean it's great that you saved her but, Jesus this fucking school." "I know," Alex frowned. And the two shared a moment of somber silence between their pizza.

Shelby broke the silence first. "I started working on the transfer process last weekend." "Back home?" Alex asked. "Yeah," she replied. "I shouldn't have left New York anyway. I just thought, y'know, I was twenty-two. I went to high school in Syracuse, college in Syracuse, and if I started teaching in Syracuse I thought I'd never leave." "But you didn't want to." Alex added. Shelby rubbed her shoulder in thought. "I didn't know that I didn't want to. There's just too much going on here. Too many things to look over my shoulder for." "I understand." "Alex, I—"

submit The command hit Shelby like a mental explosion. "No," she whispered. She buried her face in her hand and tried as hard as she could to concentrate—concentrate on anything but obeying the intoxicating command. The moment passed, the danger faded, and as the fog cleared from Shelby's mind she looked up to see Alex's sober face.

"Shelby?" he snapped his fingers. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," she choked. "I'm fine. I'm just...a lot of papers to grade. Working on my dissertation. It's exhausting. Anyway, I've got to get going." "Oh," Alex said. "Well, do you want me to walk you home?" "No," she replied quickly. "I'll be fine." "Alright."

Shelby hurried back to her apartment, glancing nervously at the people she passed on the sidewalk. A combination of Alex's story and the mysterious voice trying to break into her mind had worked her up, and now she couldn't shake the feeling like the thing, whatever it was calling out to her, was stalking her home. Silence welcomed her in the apartment, benefits of living without roommates. She locked the door behind her and moved to the bedroom, collapsed on her bed, and feverishly began to masturbate. Shelby didn't even realize how horny she was, but now her body was burning with passion and it was all she could do to release. It had been so long since she'd been properly fucked. As she imaged Alex's gentle embrace, Shelby came.

She passed out after that, but her thirst didn't die down in her sleep. Shelby's dream took her deep into the woods at the edge of town. The trees around her wear bare and gray, and a strange black fog closed in behind her as she moved closer to the heart of the woods. And in the heart of the woods she found a large black pond, with surface of the water bouncing slowly up and down as if the pond itself was breathing. Shelby didn't stop to examine the lake. She didn't have any questions. Instead she took one step forward, sliding her foot into the viscous liquid. She took another step forward, and she continued moving toward the center of the pond until she began to sink. Shelby didn't struggle as her head slipped beneath the surface of the pond. Her feet touched solid ground. Carpet. Shelby opened her eyes and found herself in a cabin. She was deeper in the woods than anyone had ever gone before. The black fog was thick outside of the windows, but she didn't panic. She felt safe here.

"I'm glad you could finally make it," and eerie voice spoke, and Shelby turned away from the window and gasped at the sight of her own body lying on the bed, a lustful twinkle in her pale white eyes. "Who are you?" Shelby asked. "Where am I?" "I'm the part of you that doesn't fight," the vessel explained. "I surrendered myself the first time the Master touched our mind. I've been waiting here for so long." "We're in my head," Shelby said. "This is just a dream." "Correct," the vessel frowned. "But just because this is a dream doesn't mean that it isn't real. We were awake the last time the Master called us." "I was with Alex..." "Mmm," the vessel moaned. "We'd like to see what he's hiding under all of the clothes." "Stop it!" Shelby shouted. "We—I mean I'm leaving. I can't get involved." "But we're thirsty," the vessel interrupted. "You can feel it. Stay here and we can have all of the Alex you want." "No! You're just...you're trying to get into my head. You're trying to turn me into a zombie like everyone else!"

The vessel licked her lips and smiled. "That's right," she said. "The Master has chosen us for assimilation. We've been granted a great purpose, something more important than grading papers. Why must you fight it? Why must you deny our purpose?" "Because! Because I'm scared." "There is nothing to fear. Serving the Master is a tremendous feeling." "No," Shelby shook her head. "I'll keep fighting. I'll never stop." "We can leave, but the Master's will is greater than any distance. It will find us. It will take us!"

Shelby's eyes snapped open and she found herself back in the safety of her bedroom. The night was still young, she had only been asleep for a half an hour. She took a breath collapsed back down onto the pillow and as she closed her eyes, she drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, forgetting all of the details of her bizarre dream.

[getvalentined]

Angeal for the ask game :D

ANGEAL HEWLEY

🎟️ SEXUALITY HEADCANON: Heteroflexible and biromantic. He prefers women, physically speaking, but could have an intimate relationship with a man. One man in particular.

⚧️ GENDER HEADCANON: Angeal is hard to get a read on, for me, since he's another of those characters who exists in a position that he seems to believe requires a hypermasculine presentation. I read him as cis, but I can see just about anything for him.

💕 A SHIP: Unrequited Angeal/Sephiroth is really the only ship I have for Angeal—I genuinely believe he's utterly in love with Sephiroth, and he never ever said a word about it to anyone.

🖇️ A BROTP: Angeal+Lazard is probably my biggest one, only because the mental image of both of them trying desperately to keep Genesis and Seph in line is so clear in my head it might as well be made of crystal.

🚫 A NOTP: Don't garotte me for this, but honestly Gengeal? I don't like the way he talks to or about Genesis; I've heard people say that they're like a divorced couple, but if anything they read to me as siblings desperate to get out of each other's orbit and utterly unable to escape their shared history no matter how they try. (Given that they seem to both have Gillian's mtDNA based on explanations in-canon, and we know that they can be considered siblings based on Weiss using his connection to Genesis as proof that he's also Angeal's brother in DFFOO, I feel like that's a fairly accurate read.)

💭 A RANDOM HEADCANON: Angeal didn't actually join SOLDIER at the same time as Genesis, and not only because he didn't particularly want to—Angeal is over a year younger than Genesis, and was just too young to enlist when Genny left Banora. It was almost a year before Angeal was able to follow him to Midgar, by which point Genesis had already formed a fairly solid relationship with Sephiroth, and Angeal was more than a little put-out by the idea that his position as Genesis' only friend had been taken by this weird kid with weird hair and weird eyes that Genesis kept clipping photos of from the newspaper. When he got to know Seph, though, he changed his tune pretty dramatically—and fell for him almost as hard as Genesis. This is one of the reasons that he inserts himself between them at every opportunity, not only because he doesn't think they're good for each other, but because he doesn't think that anyone is good enough for Sephiroth, not even himself. And if he isn't good enough to be Sephiroth's one and only, then Genesis (impulsive, arrogant, troublemaker Genesis, who spent days exploring a monster-infested cave system as a boy without a thought of the danger he courted in doing so, who already had everything he ever needed or wanted and still leveraged his obsession over a hero he hadn't met into an invention that garnered recognition in a way that Angeal never could) definitely wasn't. This is how the whole relationship fell apart.

🗣️GENERAL OPINION: I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the saddest thing about Angeal is that he's the only one who couldn't bear to live with himself. I'm not a huge fan of the character as a person, but he's fantastically executed as a character. His story is legitimately one of the most heartbreaking in the series—He had a whole host of people who loved him so deeply as to be fathomless, and it didn't matter. His story is a tragedy not because of how he was made or how he died, but because of why things turned out the way they did. So much of the suffering he went through was self-imposed, and that's the saddest part of all.

(For the character ask game.)

[the-good-ol-art-corner]

Good evening once again, sir. You may remember me from literally yesterday. Anyways, I have entered your very presence once more as I'd like to share more of my fnati au with you, since last time went successful, and since only you and two other people actually acknowledge my au. Anyway, let's go.

Here, we have the Steamboat Boys!!! (sorry for the poor image quality of the first pic)

Willie- Although he's only the janitor of the steamboat, he definitely asserts himself the "boss" around here, as he runs a secret drug business to make himself some big bucks, and usually likes to harass and bully Pete just to entertain himself. Willie is also very arrogant, cocky, and overall a big shot, which makes him think that he can survive anything. This has caused many incidents where Willie would try something stupid that risks his life, and Pete and Dippy would have to step in and save him. Willie also has a small side where he sometimes feels really guilty about his actions, but always hides it to keep the attitude that he's always had.

Pete- A large friendly cat who's the captain of the steamboat, Pete is usually the voice of reason for Willie's shenanigans and always tries to steer things in the right direction. He's also a big worrier, with him worrying and caring about the boat, himself, and everyone around. Because of this part of his personality, he often gets harassed, bullied, and abused by Willie, or atleast get slightly teased by Dippy, with the other two members usually calling names such as "Pussy Cat", or "Worry Whiskers". Pete is also rather insecure about himself, and doesn't know how to protect himself both physically, mentally, and socially.

Dippy- Dippy is sort of like the "middle child" of the group, with him being the guy to use the crane to lift cargo and goods onto the boat, while also struggling to keep an even balance with Willie's illegal business and ideas of "fun", while also trying to actually be a decent person and help and support Pete. Dippy also has a weird and bad habit, where he likes to break windows with all sorts of round-ish weapons, ranging from baseballs to solid rocks.

So yeah, what do you think of these three? Do you have any criticism or suggestions for them in mind at all? Again, I'm willing to take advice.

(also again, you definitely don't have to, but I think it would be cool to see these guys in your style. If you decide to do it, just do the one that's your favorite. If you want me to stop putting these request notes at the bottom btw, I can stop. I don't wanna make anyone mad, you know?)

I'm mostly just poking fun but. I was not. expecting to read that going into my inbox?? Willie sweetie noooooo-

Also I don't mind you sending more about your AU! I think all your ideas are very interesting and the characters are very charming! And. chaotic- Sorry if I can't get to them right away though, I've got a lotta art in the works I'm meaning to post ^^'

Anyways though, Pete's my favorite hands down, he's the equivalent of wet paper and I love him for that, poor guy </3 Hope he can get better friends

Reblogs > Likes, Thank You!

[starfieldcanvas]

how do you recommend coming up with a tumblr url?

First off, I strongly advise against fandom-based names unless the creator is dead and their work is something you've felt strongly attached to for the last twenty years, because fandoms change, creators turn out to be asshats, and it's a pain to have to change your URL because your hyperfixation passed or because associating with a fandom makes everyone think you're Schrodinger's bigot. (Shoutout to poor @luny0 💜) And of course it's also very confusing for your followers when you change names!

Second, be aware people will likely nickname you based on your URL — even if your internet name is in your bio like mine — and you can't predict exactly how they'll do it. @pilferingapples has an excellent username but didn't anticipate that it would be universally shortened to "Pilf." It took me forever to realize that @shitpostingfromthebarricade was called Barri, not as in a fem version of 'Barry' like Bari Weiss, but as in "Barricade." My friend @fleetingeternities (rest in peace🕊️) had a lovely name but also went by Flee, for short. So... think about that the same way you'd think about what your baby's initials would spell.

Third, I suggest thinking about how clear the starts and ends of each word in your username are. If a word later n the username starts with a vowel, will it get erroneously linked to the previous letter, or vice versa? It took me years to realize that @nurselofwyr 's username was Nurse Lofwyr and not Nursel of Wyr. Did I know what Nursel meant? No, but people have some pretty bizarre fandom and fantasy names on this hellsite. Users will go on trying to string letters together unless there's a hard stop, so if you want a username where the words might run together unhelpfully, consider hyphenating.

Just a little snippet of an idea, enough to give a vibe or a mental image, is great. Something whimsical, evocative, or downright silly. These things are easiest to achieve by pairing two words that can be imagined together but wouldn't normally go together or wouldn't go together in that grammatical format, e.g. starfishwhisper/ambient-color/marchbloom/goose-destroyer, genderflexing/hamsterwheeling/meme-foraging, frequentlykneecapped/rarelymarried/veryverily, etc. Or stack a few together, e.g. bigbadbandwidth, stabby-old-tabby, godawfulgayghost. Bonus if you get some alliteration or slant rhyme going.

Snapping a few out-of-context words from a quote is solid too: live-in-infamy, delenda-est, among-mad-people, rarely-make-history. They're not word for word quotes, so it's easier for them to morph into a collection of sounds that represent a person. I do know a lot of people have usernames that are full lines of poetry or song lyrics, but my personal opinion is that these tend to flow best as usernames when they're cut off before they get to full sentences. It's always a bit odd to address someone by a name with a pronoun inside it; that's how you get "ME SAW WHO!"

Unless you are on Tumblr for professional reasons, do not use your legal or professional name!

Obviously you always have the option to go with a fake proper noun, fantasy-name style — "larkacyn" or "devossa," or I dunno, "altseven" or "priov" if you're feeling more scifi — but I feel like if you had one of those you wanted to use, you wouldn't have sent this ask.

And of course...all the truly top tier usernames are puns. If you're really committed to getting a fandom name, bury it in a pun, like @owlmylove or like my ao3 username.

(All examples made up of the top of my head unless they're tagged users. You are welcome to any of my nonsense)

[devilishlycute]

Hear me out, fem reader giving Hayate a reassurance smooch

A little reverse comfort huh? Love it and love everything about it! 💕🥰

"Y/n... Please don't laugh at me..."

Boyfriend!Hayate Ichikura x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You and Hayate have been together for nearly a whole month! So your relationship is still very much new, so you soon come to realize that your boyfriend can be.. A little shy when it comes to his self image. Let's go pay him a surprise visit!

Typing away on my laptop, indenting, paraphrasing, reading over what I just typed. Just a typical night for a college student. Feeling my eyes strain from the laptop's glare, I decide that now would be a great time to take a good five-to-ten minute break for a mental cool down. My stomach suddenly rumbled, "Yeah... Me too buddy." I pat my stomach while standing from my chair, getting ready to leave my room.

A familiar ringtone blares from my phone, "A text? From who??" Unlocking the screen I see that it was Hayate! The cute little blue bear icon I have for him, pops up again.

"Hey."

"Umm.."

"Do you have time to talk??"

"I just.."

"..."

"If you're busy I can text you later."

He sends a sticker of the blue bear in a dogeza pose.

"Oh.. Geez! At least give me time to answer you goof!" I whine as I pull up my keyboard quickly typing back a response.

I sent a sticker of a f/c bear shaking their head.

"No!"

"I'm not busy! I was just about to take a break anyway ^^"

"What's wrong Hayate? Are you olay?"

I smacked my lips and huff in irritation, correcting my text.

"* Okay?"

The loading bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then reappear again. Making me giggle under my breath. "He's overthinking again.." I say softly, as I imagined Hayate's cute face all scrunched up trying to type-

"Is it okay to call you?"

The message he sent pops up, causing my heart to ache. "It must have been something serious.." Grabbing a jacket, gathering my keys, wallet and mini backpack (as well as a means to defend yourself). "I'll talk to him on my way to the convenient store.."

I expertly typed with one hand as I locked my door and head out.

"Sure! Voice or Video?"

"... Voice please."

Soon my screen goes black, then lights up showing the picture of Hayate looking absolutely smitten at the dog park you happened to pass while on one of your past dates. Sliding to answer, I moved my phone towards my ear.

"Hayate, is everything okay?"

I hear nothing from his side, for one solid minute.

"Haya-"

"Is it true that women's clothes have tops without straps to hold them?"

...

I hold back a choked laugh, I could just see Hayate squirm.

"P-Please don't laugh.. I'm seriously asking. I think... I think I embarrassed myself in front of people." His voice wavers at the end, making my heart squeeze.

"I understand. And to answer the question: Yes. Some people like that style, they feel comfortable and confident. But I would say you didn't embarrassed yourself, you just didn't know. No harm, no foul." I reassure him.

Walking into the store, I collect my favorites. Making sure to talk in a volume where it doesn't disturb anyone. "It was really embarrassing.. I thought I was being courteous, I asked if she knew that her shirt was in danger of slipping of her shoulder. But my friend just told me that it was supposed to be like that- I thought I was gonna die on the spot."

Softly giggling, I notice one of the fridges had Hayate's favorite ice cream. Grabbing it, I went to the counter to pay for my items.

"Not only that, I made a wrong move at the Izakaya I work at and got scolded." The worker bagged my items and wished me a "Good night.", I place the items in my mini-backpack, and hoist it back over me. I asked Hayate to elaborate what happened, and he explained that he tried to be more "chummy" and "refreshing" and the manager immediately chewed him out.

Feeling laughter begin to bubble, I cover my mouth. "I-I see.." I stop at the crosswalk, waiting for the lights to change. "But you shouldn't try so hard to be someone different, you're perfect as you are." The light changes signaling me to cross, I make sure I'm heading to Hayate's by looking at the street names.

The street looking more and more familiar with each passing block. "I'm thinking about quiting the Izakaya job and trying to find somewhere a little closer." I hummed and saw Hayate's apartment complex, "If it's what you want to do Hayate, I'm there for you." Walking up towards the door, you typed in Hayate's code,

"Hmm? Hey, I'll be back. Someone's at my door."

"Yeah, it's me! I have snacks!!"

...

"HUH?!" Hayate shouts over the phone, the red light soon flashes green and the sound of the lock unlocking let's me know it's okay to walk in.

"H-How did you get here so fast?! Did you seriously walk over here at night?!" He asks, his worried voice amplified from the phone. As I walked upstairs and down the hall, " Yup! I got here while talking with you. You know how I said I was about to take a break? I was gonna go on a late dinner-slash-snack run before you texted me. Hurry up and let me in you goof, I got your favorite ice cream and another surprise for you."

I hear some muffled footsteps and shuffling inside, "B-But it's messy inside." His voice whispers through, causing me to pout. "Then I guess you get no ice cream and no surprise!"

He goes quiet, the drops the call. The door unlocks and Hayate opens the door a smidge, "W-Welcome.. Come in." He moves to open the door, his minimalist apartment wasn't as messy as he made it out to be. Just a couple of JUMPs scattered about, but that's it, pulling out the bag I hand it over to Hayate. "It's mostly my favorites, but I made sure to get the ice cream and chips you like." I set my mini-backpack on the hook attached to his door, I turn around to see that he's setting the bag down on his coffee table.

Hayate opens his ice cream and eats it with the wooden paddle it comes with, sitting down across from him. Watching him, more specifically his lips.

"I did say I had a "surprise".. It's appropriate to start kissing right?? We've hugged, h-held hands... Even walked to University together! It's been a half a month... Surely he wouldn't mind.." I debate with myself, not noticing the Hayate's turning red. He moved the spoon away from his lips, "Did you want some- mmp!" I leaned over the table and gave his lips a soft peck, my cheeks resonate heat.

Pouring my feelings for Hayate in that one single peck, I pull away and give him a bashful smile. "That's the surprise, a little pick me up for the nerve-racking day you had.. Sorry that happened to you, Hayate." I watched as his face exploded in red, he covers his mouth and turns away.. "Not.. Fair... I wanted to be the one to.. Ki-ki-ki..." He mumbles.

I let out a cheeky laugh and go to open my bag of chips, "Sorry for making the move first Haya'~" His blush worsens, "..You can stay as long as y-you want.. Just let me walk you home though. It's dangerous to walk alone at night." I felt my heart race and my smile widened, popping a chip in my mouth. "You got yourself a deal! Be prepared Hayate- I love cuddles."

" "Cu-Cuddles"?!" I laughed out loud, placing my clean palm under my chin. Staring lovingly at my shy boyfriend resume eating his ice cream

" Hayate Ichikura, the easily embarrassed and highly introspective.. How cute." I mentally coo. You can't help but plan more kisses for him in the future.

A/n: Whoop! Whoop!! Another fluffy drabble down, Hayate's very adorbs and deserves reassuring vibes and comfort every time he feels embarrassed!

[vaguely-concerned]

zeblue sketch dump

here we go! :) this will go long because I Love them

I personally think of Blue’s glasses as less of the conventional nerd kind, more of the insufferable tech bro vibe. He IS a nerd but he’s also a scammer trying to get you to think it’s a sound financial investment to buy his cryptocurrency

God I wish I was more interested in/better at drawing clothes and fashion, because the idea of Blue wearing Aava hand-me-downs is one of the greatest mental images I’ve ever incepted myself with and I don’t think I can ever do it justice. + obligatory blue's dumbass jester my beloved

The Most important version of fullly armoured knight zero that I unforgivably forgot to include in my original post

Introducing Nephili ‘Neph’ Ax-Vel, one of the Force-sensitive kids that I invented for my ever-fixed mark ‘verse! Featuring an omwati redesign because the idea behind the species seemed so cool and yet what little art there is looks like uh… just humans with 80s hair and that was Not It for me. 

She is incredibly interested in technology and is showing signs of integrating her connection to the Force in that, exactly as Aava was so interested to see someone do! However (the monkey’s paw curls for Aava) Blue is her absolute favorite adult in the whole world, for unknowable reasons. (It probably comes down to them having some ineffable yet powerful autism2autism communication going on; he is surprisingly non-awful with her.)   

She’s also the only one of the kids small and literally bird-boned enough for Blue to be able to carry. (Dar-Yen — who even as a little babby 10 year old besalisk is pretty solid — once made a bet with his BFF that Blue would catch him if he jumped into his arms, Brooklyn 99 meme style. This experiment ended with several bruised ribs on all sides and a stern talking to. To this day the kids argue over whether Blue at least tried to catch him before they both went down like matching sacks of potatoes, or was just trying to save his cup of caf. Reader, I think you know in your heart what the truth is there.)

Before Aava and Zero started trading off haircutting duty, Blue’s hair got pretty long, which Neph took as prime free ‘I’ll braid your hair!!!’ real estate. 

Feared lethal assassin Agent Zero play fighting with the kids and dramatically pretending to fall to their combined might is something that can actually be so personal (is so personal I guess considering I made it up for myself lol). It is partially just to be an uncle-shaped jungle gym, but also a way to sneakily train them in working as a group the way he used to when running with a pack in his youth  

*blue voice* but why did theseus seduce ariadne though. Why did he not put the moves on the minotaur instead. This seems like the more obvious and productive cause of action long-term (and I have no other horny reason to think this)

*affectionate Zero voice* you’re insane (and extremely gay) but alright I’ll be insane along with you

(I could imagine this being a real in-universe statue that got commisioned and that they'd pose for fdskajfa Zero has gone through all the stages of grief long ago when it comes to what Blue does to his libido and has arrived at the perfect Zen of 'this will awaken something in me. and that's chill we live and learn about ourselves')

:') they

(Slightly older?) Neph and Blue, and some Zeros I doodled as a means to cling on to my sanity while stuck on a train for a couple of hours. Aava is right he handsome

important information being exchanged (the fact that blue specifically calls the hired killer he employs pretty... I will never be over it what is wrong with him)

The silly stupid little arms-wide-open-in-welcome doodle of Blue in this might be my favorite thing I’ve ever drawn. He really saw bae, went :) , and it fills me with such simple delight

(there’s also a Zero looking sad on this page of my sketchbook that didn’t make it in here, but that’s the context lol)

[mikeellee]

Hi!

Can I just say that I hate how in some fics even after Uraraka finds out what exactly Bkg did to Izu and what the name Deku actually is meant to mean she still calls him it? And doesn't even offer to call him literally anything else?! At that point it just feels mean spirited - what are your thoughts?

Hi, @doodlegirl1998

Ok, first let me say one thing(or more) BK never hides his true nature, what you see is what you get. I have seen stories where the person puts on the mask of a "nice guy" or tries to be subtle in their actions.

BK literally, canon here, tried to kill Izu (people forget he has bombs in his hands...even if we are to accept he is not meant to kill, he would have sent Izu to the hospital at the very least) and no one seemed to be shocked. This makes me think if this is somehow normal??

Kids being kids...

You have a quirk that makes plants grow, the other can break diamonds, it´s normal.

except, we never saw anything like that...it´s only BK who tries to kill Izu, always him. And I say again, it´s not bc he is quirkless, it´s bc Izu is his victim.

In fics where his so-called friends find out about BK´s abuse on Izu...it´s rare to find good ones...when they find out...not many changes. Ochako may call him DEKIRU which is a better name for him, I give that but is still linked to DEKU (look I don´t know Japanese nor their grammatic but it canon how Ochako thought Deku was similar to Dekiru, and even called him like that) and Izu goes along..."He is reclaiming the word"

But....think this way. Your abuser calls you dumb, and you want to reclaim the word dumb as something positive, can you do it? Maybe, good branding can do anything...but then again, the word dumb will have the same meaning for people who are out of your circle.

Meaning when Izu calls himself Deku, people are just hearing "useless" and it seems like a funny moment. "har har his name is Deku" but it has mean and dark undertones. (shocked but not surprised no teacher went to talk to him about his name. Midnight vetted BK´s name bc it was bad...no one could have done the same for Izu? "your name sounds too negative on you, please pick something else")

As for fics like that (running away from the topic lol) Ochako doesn´t have a solid character, and what we have is not a good image the stans like. So, in some fics she beat BK up (cool, I´m in favor) in some she is a background character, she worries for Izu but nothing comes out of it.

Ochako doesn´t have a solid character. How she would deal with bullying? She had friends in her old school? Was ever been bullied? we don´t know.

As if she continues to call him this name and says "You can reclaim it, be Dekiru" ( again, Dekiru is a better name for him) seems .... something advice a well-meaning would give, even though the said person is completely out of her depth.

Only Shoto is canonically abused here...and he has no say on how Izu was treated, or on BK (unless if is to say how they are friends) and if we are to take the latter into consideration....then Shoto is falling for the old mentality of abuse "you can get away from it"

Izu´s pain is seen as a joke or then a way to make a ship shine. Hell, this logic was used for Shindeku. Shinso beating up Bk to avenge Izu is pretty cool even if Shinso is a terrible character too.

To conclude, Ochako doesn´t have anything to stand for. She may be meant well (as she is the lover interest) but I do find it a bit sus she went for Dekiru instead of a pun with his name or hair. Like "Greenie" yeah maybe it´s not super creative but would be so much better.

[droughtofapathy]

"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby

Breaking the Story

May 16, 2024 | Off-Broadway | Second Stage Theatre | Evening | Play | Original | 1H 25M | First Preview

A journalist friend and I went to see this show about a war correspondent who returns from active warzones and tries to adjust to civilian life. As far as journalist-war stories go, this one follows a fairly standard storyline that needs some fine-tuning before opening. As this was a first preview, I'm giving it a lot of grace. The acting was all solid across the board. Julie Halston was out (devastating to me) but Laura Jordan as the understudy delighted me. There were some apt points made about the differences between "established" and "emerging" journalism (which my old-school journalist friend nodded thoughtfully at), and the projection and sound design were utilized effectively--those explosions really hit out of nowhere. The story vaguely mirrors the life of Marie Colvin, a foreign affairs correspondent who was killed in Syrian bombardments back in 2012.

There's a central thru-line of guilt and intrigue that follows the protagonist through this particular play, and ultimately I found the reveal and payoff to be fairly benign and unsatisfactory. I do think the fractured narrative plays well into conveying the character's distressed mental state, though there are still areas it fails to cohere. The first preview also had some early audio issues where I could faintly hear the stage manager(?) giving cues backstage, though my friend (late sixties) didn't hear anything.

That all being said, I do not like the promo images they've been using. The style of hair and dress used isn't indicative of the show at all, and frankly I'm not sure what they're aiming for with the whole "romance" look with a vest slapped over it. There's a throwaway line about La Perla that may tie back into it, but it's so off-hand that it could be cut. (Never mind why a war correspondent brought fancy lingerie with her to an active warzone.) If I can, I may see it again after previews, and will report back on improvements.

Verdict: A Lovely Night

A Note on Ratings

Not related to any storytelling or nuance, but I was deeply enamored by the costume worn by one of the middle-aged actresses. This very chic polkadot two-piece set with a plunging-neckline bodice. I need it in my closet immediately. Though I do worry for her ever-so-slightly because she's a small-breasted woman and it was a bit loose in the bust so if she turned a certain way... well. Anyway.

[callipraxia]

Dark Nights

Suuuuper late for week three, so I tried incorporating elements of all three of the sub-themes to make up for it!

Historical note, I have no idea if car boots that worked like this were a thing in the seventies. Consequently, we’re working with my vague early memories of the nineties. It is, after all, semi-canon that the GF dimension was a little ahead of ours; aside from Fiddleford’s laptop, there’s also Ford somehow being able to show Stan home movies from their childhood. I looked it up and home video cameras didn’t become a thing in our world until just about the time Stan got thrown out of the house, and it would have made the Pineses early adopters if they had even taken it up then. Can’t really see Filbrick as the type to pay for the most up-to-date fad technology, really.

Summary: Stan Pines once chewed his way out of the trunk of a car. Years later, he starts to remember how that happened, and wishes he didn’t.

It was not, strictly speaking, the worst sensation he had ever woken up, to as soon as he realized first how cramped up his arms and legs were and then that he could not move them far enough to reach more comfortable angles, Stan realized he was in trouble. Then he noticed some of the other things that hurt – specifically, his head; he thought it would have hurt anyway, but the way the surface under his head seemed to vibrate slightly but constantly wasn’t improving the nauseating waves of pain emanating from the lump he was pretty sure he now had on his skull, either. Then he tried to remember the last thing that had happened, came up with an attempt to deny everything that he’d known was doomed even as he’d made it, and groaned before closing his eyes again.

Yep, he was in trouble. A lot of it. And if he didn’t do something and didn’t do it quick, then it was probably the last time he was going to be in any amount of trouble. Which was something that sounded so much better when it meant something besides what it meant in this case.

For once, he was almost glad Ford wasn’t around. Most of the time, his brother had either laughed off or defended Stan’s various misadventures even more readily than Ma had, but every now and then, Stan had done something so spectacularly stupid that even Ford had felt obliged to acknowledge the dumbassery of the behavior in question. His vision was none too good even when he didn’t think he probably had a concussion, but at the moment, he could practically see Ford – in the same state, even, of furious disarray that he had been in the last time Stan had seen him for real – with one hand on his face as though to obscure his resemblance to as big an idiot as Stan was, asking why, exactly, he had thought it was a particularly bright idea to try cheating at poker with a famously unstable guy….

I didn’t, Poindexter, he silently addressed the version of his brother he talked to inside his head a lot. In a vague way, Stan knew that the real Ford certainly no longer really looked like he had back then, no more than Stan himself did, but he avoided thinking about his total lack of exact knowledge about where Ford was and what was going on with him except on their birthdays. It was not their birthday, and so, he barely noticed the problem with his mental image of his twin brother looking so much younger than the last thing Stan recalled seeing in a mirror. Just ran out of better options and hoped I could swing it. Apparently, I was a little too optimistic about my chances, so are you gonna help come up with any ideas about how to get us out of here or not?

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to exhale slowly, to not give in to the impulse to hyperventilate from sheer terror in the already sparse dark air of what he was increasingly sure was the trunk of a car, he tried to think like his brother.

This was, admittedly, not easy. He hadn’t often understood what went on in his brother’s head even back when they had spent a solid eighty percent of their time together, and when he had, it had usually involved imprecise analogies. There just…weren’t people who thought like Ford did; that was what made him a genius and what made Stan being his twin look like someone’s idea of a bad joke. However, he had spent most of his waking moments around the guy for still just a little more than half his life, so he could at least make educated guesses. Ford wouldn’t get stuck in the car on his way to his own murder and disposal, but he…could get stuck in…something. Yeah, that made sense. Forget the car trunk part, forget the off to be murdered bit, just think about…being stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be. That could happen…

No. That was what was happening. Right here, right now. They had gone hunting cryptids, as they often even before the Jersey Devil had turned Ford’s conspiracy theories into firm beliefs, and a…cave had caved in, right, so now they had to get out of it. So what would they do?

Assess surroundings, probably. What there was to assess, anyway. There were only fine lines of light around what Stan assumed was the lid of his current death trap. Things in here were all close enough to the end of Stan’s nose that he could have seen them clearly if there had been enough light, but there wasn’t enough light, so vision wasn’t going to help him here. Feeling…hard to move, but he could, a little. Not that there was much to feel. Just the rough, carpet-like interior of the trunk, he guessed, the slightest hint of air when he turned his head left…

Wait. The slightest hint of air when he turned his head left?

With an effort that made him nauseous – because if there was nothing to work with after all, puking was going to improve his situation by leagues, he was sure – Stan turned the rest of himself left, too. Yeah – yeah, it felt like there was air, just a little air, coming through. Which meant…was this one of those trunks that could, in theory, be opened from the backseat of the car as well as from the outside of it?

Problem: he didn’t have the use of his hands. He needed more room before hand-usage – or, for that matter, kicking – could come into play.

Solution: use what he did have to work with. Which was…what?

He thought (after feeling, as carefully as he could, around it with one of the less damaged bits of his face) that there was a piece of the backing which seemed loose. If he could rip that loose, he’d be into the stuffing and stuff, right? That would be easier to work with. So…what were his options as far as damaging the panel enough to permit access to the backseat? While, if possible, allowing the piece of panel to function as an impromptu weapon if he needed it?

Nothing. There was nothing. He had nothing. He was nothing, except a soon-to-be corpse. Was that better or worse than being what he vaguely remembered someone calling him right before he’d blacked out, a comment which had involved gutter rats and….

No, he informed Mental Ford. That is crazy.

The Ford in his head agreed with this assessment. It used words like ‘probability’ that Stan had only the slightest of understandings of. It did, however, get one point across pretty clear: two percent chance of survival (using a number he’d pulled out of thin air) was still better than zero, and zero was what he had if he didn’t do something.

This has got to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, Stan thought, forgetting to filter his plans through his brother’s voice as he considered the only means of operating something he could think of right now. That brought on a swell of panic – he didn’t make the plans, he wasn’t good at making the plans! He was in this very situation because he did not know how to make good plans! – but there was nothing for it. Gasping, struggling to keep the last thing he’d eaten where he’d intended for it to be, he started putting the plan into motion -

And then opened his eyes, about thirty-six years later, to find himself looking at boards – boards which made up a ceiling, which was, if not high, at least a respectable distance above his head. He also immediately noticed the lack of all the feelings that went with being bashed in the head recently, and that he didn’t currently appear to have teeth at all, even though his jaw was sore for some reason. And, perhaps most notably, he wasn’t alone.

“Stanley?” Ford held up a lantern, looking and sounding half-asleep still. “You all right?”

“Ah – yeah,” said Stan, rubbing his jaw. He must have been clenching it in his sleep. Made sense, considering the dream he’d been having – wild dream, that one. Way, way too much detail. “Sorry…dream. Somebody was trying to kill me over a game of cards.

“That is always unpleasant,” Ford said, and Stan exhaled in amusement at this statement of the obvious. “I imagine especially in…your case.” It took Stan a beat to realize the implication - that the matter-of-fact way Ford had said that, it wasn’t because he was just…stating the obvious. That it sounded more like Ford was somehow perfectly familiar with how it felt to unexpectedly remember times when someone had…decided to take the hands-on, one-guy-deemed-unnecessary-at-a-time approach to solving overpopulation, so to speak. After a second, Ford added, “do you, eh, want to talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest,” muttered Stan. He rubbed his jaw again. “Damn, I hope that wasn’t real. I mean, if it was, that might answer the question of why you’ve got your original teeth and I don’t, but – “

“What, you really did chew your way out of the trunk of a car once? I never could decide if I believed that.”

Stan sat up and stared at his brother. “Huh?” he asked. “How do you know that?”

On the other side of the cabin, Ford’s expression changed slightly, probably without him even noticing. It was the look he got when he was feeling guilty about something stupid again. “It’s…one of the more memorable details about the night you arrived in Gravity Falls,” he said. “I was so sleep-deprived I could barely think straight, much less remember much after – everything else that happened that evening – “

“After I decided it would be a great idea to hit you two feet away from something you’d just told me could put holes in reality, you mean?”

“Er, yes. I suppose.” With a visible effort, Ford got back to the point instead of going into one of his absurd point-by-point analyses of why actually, everything had been entirely his fault, first to last, and everyone else was entirely blameless in the affair. Stan had finally lost his patience with it about a month earlier, and while getting into a fistfight on the deck of a fairly small boat had also been kind of stupid behavior, nobody had died or gone off to see another galaxy, and Stan guessed the point had been made. “But at one point you were yelling about various things you’d done…while we were estranged, and that one was bizarre enough I remembered it.”

“Huh. I…guess I can give myself points for creativity in a crisis, anyway?”

“You do seem to have a knack for that, Stanley. An…unfortunately frequently self-destructive kind of creativity in a crisis, apparently, but….”

“Eh, smashing things is my calling in life,” said Stan. “Apparently, including my own teeth.” He stood, muttered something about getting some air, and went out onto the deck in the dark.

It was the new moon, but it still wasn’t as dark as his already-fading memory of the what the inside of that car trunk had looked like in his dream. It had been lighter outside, when he’d somehow managed to push the cushions concealing the opening into the trunk apart with his head without blacking out, but still a dark night. That, he guessed, was how he had gotten away with it….

Stupid, he thought irritably. Sheer dumb luck was the only reason he’d gotten away with it. Sheer dumb luck that it had been one guy in the car, sheer dumb luck that the guy had been tired and distracted and listening to the radio, so he hadn’t noticed anything going on behind him until it was too late to just shoot Stan then and there –

The vivid feelings of the dream were all but gone, but he still remembered events as…normal memories, he guessed, now that he’d been reminded of them. And he was starting to remember the rest of it, too, however foggily: trying to strangle a guy with his bare hands for lack of better options. The crash as the guy in question lost control of the car. Stealing the gun and walking – well, limping – away, after all, telling himself that of course the least lucky of the two luckless idiots involved had gotten himself out, too, and not ended up dying like that…

No, it hadn’t just been a dream.

It had been a long time, even with what Dipper called his ‘supplies for the Scrapbook of Crimes Past,’ before Stan had remembered even a little of his years on the road, his life more and more like a nightmare while he was awake than it usually was when he was sleeping. After he’d discovered Ford’s history of criminal shenanigans in the multiverse – well, of course he’d made fun of him, because how could he not? When was he ever going to get a chance like that again? Ford had practically been setting himself up to get poked occasionally about that one, trying to maintain his prim-and-dorky façade after he’d gotten home when he knew full well that he was as much of a liar and thief as Stan had ever even dreamed of being. It would have practically have been a crime to not have some fun at his brother’s expense about that, almost as bad as it would have been if, knowing how distressing everyone found his ‘case,’ he’d ever said out loud that sometimes, he wondered which of them, him or Ford, was really the lucky one.

The more he remembered of his own life and the more he collected of what little his brother let slip about the past thirty years in hyperspace, the more Stan thought they might be more alike than either of them would have ever imagined, even when they’d been kids. He wished he didn’t know enough, about either of their lives at this point, to form that thought.

When he had still had very little real memory at all, and had been trying to learn the faces in old photographs and tapes well enough to pass himself off as remembering them more than he did, he’d thought that Ford was the lucky one, between the two of them. They’d both had to do things they had emphatically not wanted to do in the Fearamid, but at least Ford hadn’t ended up walking that endless tightrope that Stan had for that first week or so, constantly on edge, constantly terrified of disappointing someone, constantly worried he was going to get it wrong. The more tidbits he heard about Ford’s life, though, and the more he remembered about his own…there were times, now, that he thought a blank slate was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. Even the nightmares, after all, didn’t seem as vivid as he thought his memories once had, and even a partial picture of his own life let him know that he would be happier if he didn’t get everything back eventually.

Time wasn’t a river, he’d realized at some point. Not if the past was considered part of time. The past could be a lovely swimming pool for some people, maybe, but he wasn't one of the people it worked that way for. His past, he became surer with every memory, was just what was left behind after a flood. Dead water, standing where it didn't belong, and not to be walked in - no telling what was down there, but it was pretty certain that it contained a lot of stuff that couldn't even be guessed at from the surface, and which nobody would ever want to think of.

[grumpy-baby]

Polyamory diaries: Hard Mode

My therapist tells me I should journal, but where's the fun in doing something that has absolutely no hope of external validation? So here we are. All roads lead back to tumblr somehow.

About a year ago, my friend told me that M (partner of 10 years/ primary partner/nesting partner) and I are doing non-monogamy on hard mode. What she meant by that was the fact that we went from monogamy to non-monogamy after having been together for years already. And it's true. Non-monogamy will absolutely fuck your relationship six ways from Sunday if you're not ready. It exposes every crack, crease or strain on your partnership, shining an unforgiving light on every single rug-sweep or white lie or mildly unhealthy habit you've ever made. Transitioning from monogamy is much harder than operating from a base of non-monogamy from the start.

But I used to be proud that we did it "properly". We managed the transition. We read the books. We learned about attachment styles. We started out swinging, then we eased into dating and having sex separately, and then opened our relationship. And about two months ago we had a remarkably casual conversation about falling in love with others. And as we witnessed other newly-NM partnerships of 7, 8 years crumbling around us while ours went from strength to strength, we felt smug that our relationship's foundation was reassuringly solid. (That is NOT to say it was easy - it was really fucking hard - but we Did It, yaknow?)

Enter 2023.

In the space of four months:

I got medically signed off work for burnout

I started having my first breakthroughs in psychodynamic therapy, one of which was the realisation that my mother is an abusive malignant narcissist

I had suicidal ideation and a breakdown over M's relationship with a woman who treated me extremely poorly, and felt backed into using veto power despite my assurances to myself that I wouldn't ever

I realised I almost definitely have ADHD

My ex, with whom I was still very much in love and from whose ending of our relationship I was still reeling, died of a ketamine overdose

I went no contact with my mother

Friends, I am Not Doing Great. Actually, given the circumstances, I think I'm doing remarkably well, but dear reader, when I tell you I am so fucking tired...

I could go on about the devastating impact all this has had on my self-image, confidence, mental health, emotional wellbeing, etc, but you can probably take a guess at all that. However, having all of these events packed so closely together has meant I've had to do a LOT of processing bad feelings and it's been...eye-opening.

You see, it turns out that I've been suppressing almost all of my emotions my whole life. My father was so explosive, and my mother's emotions so wild and all-consuming, that there wasn't any space for me to express anything except quiet, well-behaved compliance. I was in denial about my mother's emotional abuse for all of these years and having to face that all of a sudden has brought back a lot of memories. And in all of them, I was punished (severely) for my rage, my sadness, my pushback. So I suppressed them. I went through my whole life thinking I was strong, resilient and untouchable. A spiky little fighter who could overcome anything without feeling anything but determination. Turns out I'd actually emotionally castrated myself.

Now, at the age of 31, I am feeling my feelings for the first time. And boy are there a LOT of them. Before this year, I thought M was the one who would struggle with polyamory the most. I thought if we ever broke up, it would be me doing the breaking. Out of the two of us, I was sure I was the more independent and self-reliant.

Turns out those were lies I told myself. I'm not spiky and plucky. I don't have an exoskeleton. I have a bunch of defective survival mechanics that haven't been fit for purpose for decades and are now falling away. I'm a soft, sensitive and deeply, deeply hurt little crab whose only safe home is my partner. I haven't learned how to build my own yet.

So when he goes on dates, when I think about him having sex with others, when he tells me he and his new partner are really really into each other - rather than feeling excited for him like I used to, I can feel it all spinning away from me. My newly-discovered emotions, which I never learned to regulate because I wasn't allowed to have any, take the wheel and drive me down into the pits of the worst possible case scenario and tell me that it's real, that I'm too ugly and broken for him to love me anymore, that he hates me, that my friends hate me, that I'm nothing but a burden, that it's the truth, that my life is over.

My logical brain tells me I'm happy for him, that I have compersion, that he deserves good partners, just like I do. But it doesn't make the thought of meeting her tonight any less terrifying. At least she's bringing her dog - hopefully he'll diffuse any tension.

Hard Mode. No shit.