#i am Better at managing the manic energy that just wants Attention. but. it is still there lol

[orcelito]

Smth I sometimes do that always makes me laugh. When I have little bits of free time, I'll often spend them rereading over my current WIP chapter for minor edits & maybe doing a bit of writing if I can get into it enough. It's on my docs app, but it's essentially reading fic, so I'll sometimes switch apps for whatever reason, then to try to go back to reading... I'll click on my internet browser, rather than the docs app, bc that is the Place To Read Fics in my brain

Then I stare at a page that is NOT what I was just looking and. And I Remember.

[mdhwrites]

10 Years In And My Biggest Mistake As a Writer

I let my writing fear the void all of me is terrified of.

This isn't going to be a fun one about cancelled works or bad ideas. This is your reminder that I've been a writer for ten years. I've been in therapy for 8 3/4s and depressed for roughly half a year before that. But if I look upon the failures of me as a writer, especially with how I am now, it's kind of impossible to ignore.

I fear silence in all things. I compulsively check everywhere I post when I post because my brain is terrified of having done something wrong. For this to be when I lose everything because of a mistake. It perceives everything I do as a mistake waiting to collapse in on itself. I have Avoidant Personality Disorder and that's just kind of a part of that. I am a MUCH more scared person than I probably come across as in these blogs.

With my writing though... The only fanfics I've written since getting on Ao3, with the exception of one I want to convert still, I haven't posted are because I have to brace myself when I post my works and for these works, I just never found the strength despite liking them. It was so bad at one point that I would be in essentially meltdown mode for an entire day after posting something because of the standards my brain had for what should be a success. What even could be a success. What meant that the work had not been thrown into the void.

What meant the time had not been a waste and only done more damage. And yes, this has affected my content. I've talked in my Discord about how it's MUCH harder for me to even consider writing erotica because that's not the audience I have. I know if I made a big erotic work again and was really open about it, pushed it like my other books, I would lose a not insignificant amount of people with 'NSFW DNI' in their bios. The silence I'd get is almost as terrifying as the backlash I'd potentially get, even if I have ALWAYS had this twin nature to my writing.

So how do I ever fight that? Well... Essentially with manic energy. I have described most of my books as having been written in sprints. These periods where an idea is so strong in my head that it fills the void. I don't hear it because ALL of my being needs to be working on the project. I have trouble doing literally anything else and just work and work until the story is done. Of course, any crack during these time periods becomes MUCH worse as it's holding back the void, not eliminating it. My worst nights always come when I'm manic.

And in terms of my analytical blogs, well... There's a reason I do TOH mostly. I can get emotional enough talking about TOH that even if it doesn't always come across in the blog, that annoyance and anger manages to block out the void as well. To help me remember that I know what I'm talking about and can do something with that fact, just like I know I'm a good writer who people enjoy when my inspiration for a story takes hold. But have you ever wondered why I don't do more blogs for Star Rail? I just feel so much more uncertain, for a lot of reasons, when it comes to my opinions with that game and don't usually have the fervor to help coalesce those into something more concrete or strong enough to get on the page without panicking and shelving it.

And I want to make something clear about all of this: It is good to understand your audience. It's good to be open and inviting to criticism so as to make yourself better at what you do. You shouldn't let that make you afraid to do what you want to do. You should meet your creative passions with the enthusiasm of a fanfic writer just wanting to explore the thing they love, regardless of reaction or attention or reward. You should be happy to be cringe in your creation as that will set you free.

I just wish I knew how to make it so my mind could accept that wisdom instead of saying, "Okay but not for you."

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[watercolorfreckles]

An idea:

Hero and Villain going to the same therapist but don’t know about the other. The therapist knows both of their secret identities obviously and has to deal with them complaining about each other separately

Bonus scene:

Villain finds out that therapist knows Hero’s secret identity and tries to trick the therapist into revealing Hero (can be flirting, snooping in the office, etc)

Btw, I think you’re doing fantastic with your writing! I honestly can’t believe you haven’t written in so long— your recent work flowed perfectly. Thank you for sharing your talent for writing on tumblr!!! Also I just realized how long this ask is sorry I didn’t mean to overwhelm you lol

Answering my first ask (((finally)). I'm kinda nervous lol! Thank you so much for the sweet words, @glowing-alpaca (it wont let me tag you), that makes me so happy to hear. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you pictured, but this is the direction my brain wanted to go lol I haven't written anything based specifically on someone's request before so I really hope you like this!!

"Villain?"

The villain blinked and Doctor Meadows' office came back into focus. He shook his head slightly to dispel the thoughts nagging his attention.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked whether you gave what we spoke about last week a try? We talked about finding productive ways to express your negative emotions." Her voice was soft and void of judgment. "You have a creative mind, have you tried anything that has seemed to help you so far?"

Villain's gaze followed the curve of her pen as the therapist jotted a note down on her notepad.

"How can I possibly be productive when that fool in colored spandex is always barging in, getting in my way? What am I supposed to do, mm? Throw some pottery at him?"

The therapist's hands folded in her lap. "Even if you can't control the situation in the moment, you can still find ways to better prepare yourself, then you'll be equipped to process the aftermath in a healthy way. You can't keep Hero from doing things that act as triggers for you, but you can implement some techniques to control yourself better."

Villain scoffed. "What, you want me to try soaking with a bath bomb, sing kumbaya? Nothing will change until that cockroach is out of my way."

Despite the chill to his voice, doctor Meadow's expression was warm and gentle as she regarded him. She was much more sincere than the cold and demeaning therapists he'd met with at the previous facility he'd tried; or the doctor who cowered in fear when he showed up to his first appointment.

"I am confident that with time and effort, we can find a solution that will help you, villain. But you have to put your best foot forward. You have to invest enough in yourself to sow the desired outcome." Doctor Meadows held his gaze without fear, kind eyes and soft smile settling his restless energy.

She always had a way of snuffing out the tension that corded through him and wound him tight.

They had a connection, and Meadows seemed genuine in her care for him. Sometimes he even wondered if she felt more for him than that.

Villain huffed and glanced around the room, taking in the colorful artwork on the walls, the comforting throw rugs, pillows with silly inspiring catchphrases, and soft furnishings making the space feel inviting. He found it far more disarming than the sterile white, desolate offices he'd visited before.

The therapist continued after allowing him a moment of quiet to consider her words. "I understand that we are a ways away from you being in a place where you feel comfortable giving up your...occupation. I believe that we can work our way there, but for now, we have to take steps to minimize your destructive behavior. The intent behind your actions is the key to why you are compelled to do the things that you do. If we start there, we can make changes that are healthier for you and those around you. What things best calm you and make you feel grounded?"

You, he thought, but didn't say.

"Chaos," he said instead, dazzling her with a sharp smile. He crossed his legs, leaning back on the plush lilac couch.

Doctor Meadows didn't flinch. "So when you feel like your life and personal environment are no longer in your control, it comforts you to inflict that same helplessness on other people? To help you feel less alone."

Villain stared at her. Anyone else would have run and hidden at the look on his face.

Doctor Meadows waited patiently for his response. "Do you feel that that is a correct assesment?" she prompted.

Villain straightened to lean forward in his seat. When he spoke, his voice was low. "What gives you that impression?"

"When Mr. Ma--" her eyes widened as she cut herself off, correcting herself, "--when [Hero's superhero name] isn't around, you--"

"What did you say?"

For once, the therapist's blood ran cold at her mistake. "Pardon?"

Villain braced his hands on the table between them, slowly rising to his feet. He towered over her. "Hero. You know his name. Tell me his name."

Doctor Meadows pursed her lips. "I can't do that, Villain. Doctor-patient confidentiality states--"

"--He's your patient," Villain interrupted again, his smile something too sweet, too manic, to be sincere. Like poison.

The therapist tracked his movements while still looking steady and unshaken.

"Doctor Meadows. Juliet. You want to help me, don't you?" he purred, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "If I knew who he was, I could solve all my problems. Not to hurt him, just to keep him out of my way."

His fingers trailed up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. She shuddered in a soft breath, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

"I am not at liberty to share my patient's information. You should be grateful that I don't share yours."

"Sweetheart, let's not pretend I'm just any client." Villain gently took the pencil and notepad out of her hands, setting them aside. Their gazes interlocked.

"Villain--"

"Juliet," he countered, voice honeyed. His free hand landed at the small of her back and he could feel a shiver run through her.

"Villain," she said, tone giving no room to argue. "If you are not willing to respect my rules and the policies I am required to follow, I will be forced to transfer you elsewhere."

He paused at that. The silence stretched. Could he stomach losing her? His therapist, his Juliet, the only person who came close to understanding him?

How dare she threaten to abandon him?

Finally, she shifted slightly under the dangerous look he studied her with.

"Villain. Do you understand?"

Slowly, he lowered himself back into his seat. He clenched his hands at his sides.

She smiled again, and it looked like home. "Good. Take a deep breath. Let's try a few new exercises together to help you manage your emotions."

Part 2

General Taglist: @writing-on-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @deadlygemuwu, @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @thanatoastie , @vlerlove-deactivated20210701, @feyriddle, yet-another-heathen

You're on this list if you've asked to be tagged in any of my writing before. I prefer doing a general list instead of individual ones since that is tedious to keep track of. Let me know if you want to be added or removed. :)

[down-in-devildom]

if You don’t mind, could you do a therapist MC who diagnosed Mammon with ADHD, BPD, and major depressive disorder? I happen to enjoy projecting onto mammon and I wonder how the brothers would react. if you feel like you wouldn’t be able to do a certain disorder justice you can skip it.

First and foremost, I would like to say that I needed to do a lot of research in order to touch on this prompt and even then, I am not an expert. Please understand that my portrayal of Mammon’s behavior and diagnosis is based on limited research and some personal experience (with ADHD and general anxiety). I will be sure to link any resource videos I used for my education below. My primary focus will be on the ADHA, BPD, and I substituted major depressive disorder with some signs of bipolar disorder. Doing 3 and 3 for now and will link part 2 with it is completed. Thank you so much for the request and the challenge! 

Mammon with ADHD, BPD, and possible Bipolar Disorder feat. Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan

Lucifer

Lucifer was not a demon to have immediately thought that someone like Mammon may have had an outside force that was causing his erratic behavior. He just assumed that Mammon was unable to pay attention for very long on anything outside of planning get-rich-quick schemes and MC. Lucifer felt like maybe the diagnostic was incorrect. The second brother was just hyper, not hyperactive

It was only a few days after Mammon talked about possibly having the mental disorders in the brothers’ group chat, and asking them if they knew anything about it, Lucifer felt compelled to do his own research. It only took a bit of snooping in Satan’s room to find a few psychology books that may be of use to him.

When Lucifer really sat down to read about ADHD, he was not really surprised with what he found. He knew what it was, just not all of the nuances of it. He then started to think of instances where Mammon would seemingly just keep talking regardless of whether there was anything to be said. Mammon’s speech would get progressively faster and faster, almost like he was running out of time to talk about why, exactly, hellfire cup noodles were the perfect dinner. He would then just randomly stop sometimes in the middle of the sentence as if he had completed his last thought and either look at Lucifer expecting some kind of response or would walk away like the conversation was over.

Lucifer did not feel the need to do additional research for the moment, he had paperwork to get done for Lord Diavolo, after all, but he did try to show a little bit more leniency towards Mammon and his meaningless ramblings. Lucifer does not let up on his punishments, per say, they were just as cruel as usual, he just did not feel the need to hang Mammon by the rafters whenever he felt the need to waste Lucifer’s time talking about Goldie having the perfect ratio of metallic shine and rich color.  

Mammon

Mammon did not accept what MC said what he may have at first. He could kind of get the ADHD part of it, that was just having a lot of energy, right? But the more he learned about it, the more he understood his supposedly impulsive behavior. 

He talked a few things out with MC and really tried to reflect on his behavior. The term that MC used to describe his endless energy was almost manic and the stigmatized word scared him. Manic made him seem crazy. MC then had to explain that real mania was more of a bipolar disorder trait, and not what they were describing and still not something to fear. When MC talked more about his money schemes and seemingly sudden life alternating plans, he kinda understood a bit more.

There was a certain point in time when Mammon was convinced that he could become the owner of a club that was a thousand times more popular than The Fall and rake in massive amounts of Grimm. He spent a massive amount of his brothers’ money on buying furniture and alcohol and marketing even before he secured a building. The idea wouldn’t leave his mind but evaporated in a day or so. It wasn’t even like he took the time to research how to open a club in the Devildom, he just assumed that he could do anything in the moment and nothing would stop him. Unfortunately, Lucifer did stop him when Mammon’s new furniture collection started to pour out into the hallways of HoL.

Mammon wasn’t all that sure what he could do to maybe help manage his symptoms. MC suggested stimulants to see if he can see a change in his ability to control his impulsiveness. He had to think about it for a bit though. He did not really like that his “manic-like” episodes were impeding on his ability to enjoy his life but he did figure it may have an impact on the people close to him. He is glad to have MC around to help him with this new journey to better managing his mental health.

Satan

Satan was acquainted to some extent with a variety of mental disorders and have thought about a few possible diagnostics for several of his brothers. When Mammon told everybody about his comorbid diagnosis of borderline personality disorder and ADHD, Satan was very interested in talking to MC to find out a bit more information about the conditions. 

Satan was intrigued by how BPD was able to impact how Mammon approached his relationships. The impulsiveness was something that could be attributed to the ADHD, but his seemingly unnatural, wholehearted devotion and idealization of MC shortly after they arrived was something he could now see in perspective. Call him a cynic, but Satan thinks Mammon attached themselves to MC a little too fast.

When MC was assigned to be in Mammon’s care, Satan was very quick to notice that his tune changed relatively quickly after just a few days. Mind you, MC really was a great and outstanding person and it was no wonder that the brothers all came to like them as much as they did. However, this was the first time in centuries that Mammon met a human that wasn’t after some sort of advancement in life, so his suspicions should have been high. Next thing Satan was aware of, Mammon was practically walking on Mc’s heels trying to please them or expecting MC to do almost impossible feats just because they stood up to Lucifer for him once. Impressive, yes, but not worth the stars in Mammon’s eyes.

Satan was also aware that there was a major possibility that Mammon would experience the flip side of the idealization and assume that MC was the worst person in existence. It hasn’t happened yet, but Satan keeps an eye on Mammon. Maybe just because demons have a different internal rhythm than humans, this switching between love and hate hasn’t happened nor will it happen. Either way, Satan found comfort in knowing just a bit more about his brother.

------

So, mania is defined as symptoms lasting for more than two weeks. Wanted to clear that up as to why it was manic-like and not mania. This is where the bipolar disorder hinting came into play. Resources below. Thank you for reading and hopefully part 2 will be out soon! -Leo

Bipolar Disorder Vs Borderline Personality Disorder

ADHD Vs Bipolar Disorder

Anxiety vs Mania

[party-gilmore]

...well, I managed to get to literally JUST BARELY before the actual smut starts, so please enjoy this unbetaed 2k word teaser prologue of "demi/grayace Parker doesn't feel like she's Enough for Eliot without Hardison around, so he sets the record straight."

Set during The Hurricane Job, because who gives a damn if the ep is even OUT yet, am i right? XD

“Room 236.”

“What was that?” Eliot hums. His voice is muffled beneath the heavy, sopping weight of his jacket as he tugs the damn thing over his head. His shirt peels off right along with it, so he just shucks the whole shebang in the generic direction of his luggage. He’ll have plenty of time to see to it properly tomorrow - the storm will have them trapped at least another day. With a groan, he stretches out his bad shoulder. It’s not quite dislocated again, but it’s not quite right either. Two nimble hands sneak up from behind and flit their way over the shoulder blade, one bracing against the wet neck of his white tank top while the other presses swift and hard on the joint - and ‘pop’ goes the weasel.

Eliot flashes Parker a pained but soft smile through the old dresser mirror, but it falters when he catches her eyes peeking over his shoulder. There’s a look in them he isn’t familiar with, but doesn’t think he likes.

“Park-” he starts to turn around, but she manhandles him back away from her and shoves her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. No small feat tonight, they way the rain has soaked and damn near suction cupped them to his ass. “H-hey, woah, alright there darlin’, slow it down a bit,’ he chuckles, reaching back to feel for her, but she’s already hopping back and flashing a small, colorful rectangle at him.

“Room 236,” she repeats, flipping it around her fingers like a coin. Eliot frowns. They’re in room 225, just down the hall. They’d found what the crooked cops were after with time to spare, so there was nowhere left to search. Why then, would he still have a room key for-

Oh. He reaches back and pats the offending rear pocket, flushing as he remembers Marshall Shipp’s parting flirtatious wink and accompanying gentle smack on the ass as they’d parted ways a half hour ago. He hasn’t exactly been… discouraging her interest. It's felt good that women are still interested in him even as he’s put a few more miles on, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention - especially from someone as 'his type' as Maria.

Well, what used to be his type, at least.

He shoots a sheepish, apologetic grin at Parker. Maria’s ‘interest’ was quickly becoming ‘intent,’ and now Eliot needed to find a way to nip that in the bud sooner rather than later.

“Damn, I should’ve noticed the reverse lift,” Eliot clears his throat, toying with the edge of the pocket absentmindedly. “She must’ve slipped it to me after we completed the radio broadcast. I was uh, distracted by our success I guess.”

“Bet that’s not all she’d like to slip you,” Parker’s voice takes on a bit more of a playful tone for a moment. Cheeky, teasing. It feels like solid ground.

“Hey now,” Eliot teases back, starting to undo his belt, slow and deliberate, as he begins toeing out of his boots. “I can’t help that I still ‘got it,’ darlin’. I can think of a couple folks I know offhand that might like to, uh… 'slip me a little something' right now, 'specially since I'm properly alone with one of 'em for the first time since-” The only problem is, he forgot how damn difficult these boots are to get off on a good day, let alone when soaked through with salt water. Swearing under his breath, he abandons his attempt at being suave to sit at the end of the bed and fumble with the ties. He should know better than try to look cool for either of his partners nowadays. It never works out quite right, and he’s starting to get to the age where he doesn’t even see the use of that kind of posturing anymore himself. They’ve seen him at his worst already - mentally, physically, emotionally - so what would be the point, really? On top of that, he may make a fuss about his ‘cool points’ in front of Breanna, but he knows Hardison’s sneaky ‘dorkification’ process he's been slowly contaminating Eliot with over the last decade is almost complete. He's still drawing the line at DnD, but he doubts that'll last much-

“...or, if you wanted, you could go let her slip it to you.”

Eliot is too caught up in his own head to really register the suggestion at first. He's busy ruminating on how differently his younger self would be handling this whole situation - all smooth moves and hot edges, shucking off clothing with a kind of casual grace.

‘Yeah, those days have long passed,’ he thinks, hunched over and fighting the waterlogged leather of his boots with fumbling, aching fingers. He gets the first one yanked off his foot less than gracefully, wincing at his ankle’s unsubtle protest, before what Parker said finally processes.

Slowly, he sets his singular boot the side and shifts enough to face her. Parker’s tone didn’t hold any bitterness or bite, just nervousness and a bit of resignation. She isn’t looking at him, but out the window, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in a way he hasn’t seen her do in a while. She bounces restlessly on her heels. There’s a clear energy inside her looking to get out. The thunder rumbles lowly through the suddenly silent room, murmuring a warning through the curling reverberation in Eliot’s gut.

He starts out gentle. Easy.

“...now why would I wanna go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Sometimes it’s easiest to bring things to Parker head on, and she’ll respond in her usual stark, frank manner. Just lay it all right out in the open to be picked apart. This isn’t one of those times. Eliot can read that much in every restless tap, every rapid twitch of her eyes to some place else in the room, any place that isn’t him.

“She’s your type, isn’t she?” Parker’s voice is a higher register than it should be, but not quite into her panicking zone yet. That’s a start. “She’s badass, sexy… passionate.”

Eliot notices her leaning heavy on that last word, and frowns.

“So are you, Parker.”

“Not in the same way!” She turns a bit, still looking outside, but her arms unwrap from herself to gesture between them. “Not the same way you and Hardison are!”

It’s quiet for another beat. The white noise of the hissing rain against the window settles into the room with a steady, thrumming tension. Eliot doesn’t jump to demanding clarification like he might’ve done a decade ago, doesn’t snap and tell her to stop beating around the bush. He’s learned that Parker tucks away all the information he needs to understand in every phrase, no matter how inane or incongruent it may seem. So Eliot holds his tongue and chews on the words for a while.

“Me and Hardison, huh?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and rubs his jaw in a performance of pensiveness. The movement draws Parker's attention and she finally looks over to him, following the back and forth of his fingers. He presses on, carefully. “Thought we were talkin’ bout me and the marshall. What’s Alec got to do with this?”

“Because he isn’t here!” Parker breaks, not enough to falter or crumble but enough to say what's on her mind before she can overthink it. "He isn't here and it's different! I can feel it! I'm not-" she fumbles her words for a minute, just waving between them again. "-all passionate about the whole sex thing like he is!"

There's that word again. Eliot knows where to go from here, at least. It's all about that word. He stands up, albeit a little awkwardly with one foot still in an inch high boot.

"Sure it's fun and I like it sometimes, but not like you two do! Alec balanced me out, could give you what you needed! I'm not… by myself, I'm not enough for… for y-..." Parker cuts herself before she can grow any more manic, bunching her face up and looking away again like she does when trying to stave off any waterworks before they can start.

Eliot can see her closing up again as her words fail her, but that's alright. What needed to get out made it out. He can take it from here. He hobbles over in his awkward, single-socked gait until he's close enough to take her shoulders in hand, but he doesn't pull her in for the hug. Not yet.

"Now I want you to listen to me, and listen good." Eliot makes sure his tone is firm, but gentle. Parker responds the way he'd hoped - still not looking, tilting her head down, but leaning toward him. Into his space. Receptive, and ready to hear him. "Yeah, it feels different. That's cause you and me? Are different from me and Alec. We're always gonna be. 'That makes us, us,' remember? Just like that's different from you and Alec. It's all part of 'us,' yeah, but it's… we got our own thing, Parker. And sure, we might like it best when it's all three of us, just because we love him so, so much, yeah?"

He lifts one hand from her shoulder and tucks a bit of hair back behind her ear, giving her a chance to respond if she wants. Parker murmurs a quiet "yeah," and steps in a little closer. Eliot tugs her in the rest of the way now, assured that she's open to the touch. She pillows her chin on the shoulder she fixed, and Eliot lays a light kiss to the outside of her ear before continuing in a lower voice.

"So… we miss him, when he's not here, and we don't have the 'all three of us' thing right now. That doesn't make our thing, the you and me thing, any less good. It doesn't- Parker, you're so much more than just enough for me. You're who I need... especially when we don't have Hardison. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," Parker turns her head and mutters it into the crook of Eliot's neck, and he loves her all the more for it. It's better than any empty promise of 'I won't,' because he knows the honesty of it. Knows it's not just an empty platitude of 'I'll do it,' but the vulnerable admission of 'I want to, but don't know if I can.'

"That's all I ask, darlin'."

Because it is. That's all Eliot ever asks of her. To try. Never demands that she change, never insists she should be thinking of herself differently or more kindly than she does. Just that she tries to.

"Now. About this whole 'passion' thing," Eliot sighs, pulling back so he can do that thing he does to Hardison that Parker loves to watch him squirm under, but likes it a lot less when it's turned on her. That thing where he ducks his neck and tilts his head and looks up at her through his hair with that serious, intimate look that makes her want to run because he for sure can see all of her secrets like this but also want to sink deep into that comforting gaze and never leave it. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're not passionate from, but-"

"Yeah, but it's not-!"

"The same?" Eliot cuts off her half-hearted attempt at argument. "Course it's not the 'same' as us, Parker! You aren't us. So, you… you don't lose yourself in it the same way me and Hardison do, okay? Him and me, how we get high off each other, the way we act... so you don't do that. That's fine! That’s only one type of passion, darlin'. You can't tell me,” he lets his hands skim down Parker’s arms until they meet her own palms. “That the way you focus so damn hard on taking us apart - taking me apart…”

Eliot brings Parker’s hands to his hips, and her fingers start to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Anchoring herself with the ribbed texture of the tank. Starting to explore up his stomach the way Eliot knows that Parker knows he likes. She’d ferreted that one out of him ages before they’d even thought up this whole ‘you and we makes three’ train. He lets his voice go a little breathy, a little raspy, makes sure she notices how she's affecting him. “-the way you always know exactly how to do it, piece by piece, single-mindedly pulling me apart like a damn puzzle, Park… you can’t tell me that ain’t some kind of passion.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the same way I steal stuff,” Parker giggles a little, the familiar flutter of Eliot’s sides under her deft fingers grounding her and soothing some of the unease. He’s right about this. How she knows what to do with him. How good she is at it. But that’s not anything special, it’s just-

“Exactly, Parker,” Eliot is trying to walk them back toward the bed, but it’s not really working out well. Between his having only the one boot on and Parker actively seeking out the ticklish bits of his belly that make his knees go all wobbly when she scrapes her nails down them, it’s comical enough to startle another giggle out of her. Or it’s a sob. Or it’s a hiccup. Or it’s some weird combination of all three, she isn’t really sure, but it doesn't seem to really matter either. The sound is whatever it was, just like she is whatever she is.

“It's just like that. Just like how you plan your next score. And that’s your Thing. Like me and food, Hardison and his nerdery... Do you realize how that makes me feel? Knowing you treat me like a heist? Like the thing that you let define you?”

“Yeah but that’s not a sex thing, it’s just a me thing.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not a sex thing, Parker, it’s your passion. Your Thing. Yours.” Eliot finally makes it back to the edge of the bed and drops, pulling Parker into his lap. He guides her wandering hands to his chest so she can feel the rumble in his voice as he growls.

“Darlin’, you treat me like damn masterpiece. Like I’m standing smack under a spotlight in the middle of the Louvre, and the only thing in the world that matters to you is how you’re gonna pick through my security piece by piece until all that’s left under your hands is a canvas stretched tight as it’ll go and a picture meant only for you and the people you choose to see it."

Parker’s nails scrape against the skin of Eliot’s collarbone as her fingers instinctively curl in, wanting to grip take steal hold climb, and he barely restrains himself from throwing his head back in a moan. He needs to make sure Parker’s in the right place first, before he gives himself over to his own wants.

“Wow,” she whispers, damn near reverent now as she looks down at him. There’s a dawning in her eyes that tells Eliot they’re alright. That they’re gonna be good. That it’s okay to pull her tighter and ask her to go ahead and steal him again tonight, since he knows her rigging is secure.

"I can't imagine anything more passionate than that."

“Uh-huh, ‘wow' is right,” he laughs breathlessly, and reaches up to take hold of her chin. It’s a light grip, barely any pressure where he between his thumb resting on the front and the rest of his fingers curling around under her jaw, but she lets Eliot guide her down until their lips touch. Not kissing, yet, just touching. His mouth moves against hers as he speaks, tongue briefly darting out to wet two pairs of parched lips. “-so tell me, why the fuck would I want to go to anyone else?”

“Maybe if you got some bad advice,” Parker murmurs, voice strong and confident again for the first time since they wrapped up the con. “From someone who didn’t realize she made you feel that way?”

“Hmmn, that could make sense,” Eliot hums back, resisting the urge to roll up against her in wet jeans that would only serve to chafe rather than provide any of the friction that having Parker in his lap always makes him crave. “If someone could help me get this damn boot off, maybe I could get to work making sure she’ll never forget it?”

[bitch-butter]

(Modern!AU Webgott idea. Longish? Will eventually be called true bluish light. Tell me if this is interesting lol

Rated C for mentions of Joe's poor COVID protocol)

* * *

The blackout curtains that hung over the single window in the somewhat narrow bedroom were intensely effective, shrouding the occupants of the bed in a heavy darkness that even the daylight outside could not permeate. The still potent smell of sex lingered over the room, sweat and saliva and everything else casting a gross and homey aroma over the rumpled sheets and discarded clothing along the floor. Just around the edges of the curtain was a thin, white glow, but beyond that absent suggestion of light the room remained dark and still, as though nobody was there at all.

Pulling in a deep breath, Joe admitted he really shouldn’t have been there.

Shouldn’t have stayed the night, at least, if anything for the sake of his own reputation. He’s not typically one to go full spoons with a stranger (or, practically a stranger) no matter how good the sex had been, and he’s definitely never been one to spend the night somewhere that is not his bed. He’s spent years crafting his bed, has read actual magazine articles about how to create the best, most comfortable space, and after many years of hard work he is lucky enough to have created what many have called the Coziest Place in America. Suffice it to say, he does not like to spend a night in someone else's bed and he doesn’t think he needs to apologize for it.

This bed isn’t the worst, though.

And the guy that came with it wasn’t the worst either, he had to say. Joe had been ready to delete the app that led him to this guy and his bed, but it’s funny what a ‘ping’ on a lonely Friday night after nearly a year of no sex could do. Turns out that celibacy has made him into a fucking cuddler.

He’s not all that sorry about it. Keeping his distance from contact with other humans has handily prevented him from catching COVID thus far, and not everybody in his circle can say the same thing, as Tab had caught it first out of all of them via an ill-timed jaunt to Miami and Lip had had it twice now by virtue of his shoddy lungs and over-eagerness to lend a hand to people in his building. But a year is long, and half a bottle of cold Kim Crawford accomplished a lot at diminishing his capacity to give a shit about anything other than getting some attention on his dick. As long as the guy had sworn he tested negative, which he had, and Joe himself had tested negative, which he was, he saw no reason not to waltz into a total strangers apartment to merrily screw for as long as they both could stand to.

And it turns out this guy can stand a lot.

Joe has to admit at least half the reason he spent the night was that he actually was exhausted by the sheer voracity of their fucking. They oughta hand out medals for this shit, or something.

He finds himself smiling as he lets his mind wander over their earnestly passionate exploits of just a few hours past, and proceeds to let his eyes linger on the form of his companion. Though the room outside the warm enclosure of the blankets is a little cool the guy has one bare leg stretched out along the sheets, pressed up tightly against Joe’s own blanketed legs, with the remaining covers bundled against his chest. Resting mostly sideways on his belly, his face is turned towards Joe in sleep, mashed into the pillows and yet somehow managing to look as effortlessly gorgeous as he had looked in his photos on the app. His body moves with deep breaths, the steady inhale and exhale in combination with the sheltering warmth of the blanket nearly lulling Joe back to sleep.

Nearly.

He needed to get up, at the very least to find his phone and check the time. As carefully as he could he extracted his body from the tangle of covers, stepping lightly onto the carpet with his eyes on the other guy's face all the while, mindful not to disturb him. The night before he hadn’t even bothered to check his messages before passing out, and as such headed straight for the amorphous blob of his pants that rested just a foot away from the bed, crouching and reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone.

He hadn’t told Babe where he was going, as he’d only gathered the stones to go circa 11p.m. and he figured Babe was either asleep or performing his Getting Ready to Fuck routine and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. He almost feels sorry for Babe, who had loved the idea of dating a future doctor until this year when the sexiness of it was side-swiped by the actual danger the position entailed. As such, the Getting Ready to Fuck routine had an extra layer of manic energy to it, and Joe knew better than to try and pull Babe’s attention away from the hours preceding Gene’s rare, rare, rare visits to the apartment.

Even so, the amount of message icons he was presented with was unexpected to say the least.

He raised his eyebrows, nearly humming in interest as he noted the time. Jesus Christ, these blackout curtains are really worth their salt if it was nearly noon.

Tapping into his messages, he found a trickle of anxiety rolling down his spine.

FRI AT 11:42PM

Babe

Hey where r u?

I gotta talk to you

SAT AT 12:00AM

Babe

Are you coming back?? Srs need to talk

Feb 5 12:00AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:02AM

Gene Roe

Hi Joe, it’s Gene. idk if i gave you my number?

Trying to get a hold of you, call/text when you get a chance

Thanks

SAT AT 12:20AM

C h u c k

Babe is trying to find you

Feb 5 12:30AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:50AM

Speirs Ron

Why am i getting texts at 12:45 at night asking me to find you?

Well, something is fucking happening. And he’s at least 100% sure he wants no fucking part of it because any drama that starts after 11p.m. is the drama of the goddamn devil.

Fighting not to heave an enormous sigh, Joe reluctantly acknowledges that he should pull his clothes on and get out of here if there really is an emergency in the vicinity of his roommate. Looking back over his naked shoulder Joe tries to catch a glance at the guy in the bed, at the length of his bare leg in the semi-darkness, and the angle of his shoulder protruding from the blankets where he curled. He’d happily get back in that bed and go another round or five.

As though alerted to Joe’s presence by the cosmos, his phone begins buzzing in his hand. Huffing in annoyance, he attempts to reject the call at least until he can get out of the room, but throws himself off kilter and bangs his elbow into the bedside table, jostling a glass of water and a pile of paperbacks.

“Shit,” he curses, grasping at his elbow and shooting a glance back to the guy, whose eyes are already open and alerted to the noise.

Damn it.

The guy blinks slowly, bleary, for a moment before pulling his face from his pillows and angling up onto his side. “Hi,” he greets softly, running a hand through his mussed hair.

“Hi,” Joe nods back, grimacing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The guy shakes his head, looking for all intents and purposes like he means it. “Not at all,” he sniffs, meeting Joe’s eyes in the darkness with a still-sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“Oh man, it’s like noon.”

Furrowing his brow, the guy nods back before shooting Joe a wry smile. “We tired ourselves out, huh?”

Joe laughs, seeing his phone light up in his hand with a new message. “Speak for yourself.”

At the interested quirk of the other man’s brow Joe hastily gives a shake of his head and stands. “I’ll get out of your hair quick, no worries, just be a minute.”

The guy frowns, sitting up in the bed to let the blankets pool around his hips, hands coming to rest between his legs. “Oh, well, don’t feel like you have to.”

Joe pauses, pants in hand. “Oh, it’s not -”

“I mean, if you want to go then for sure, but like…” the guy waves a hand, pursing his lips before smiling and coughing out a laugh. “Are you hungry? I have eggs, I can make you something before you go.”

He hesitates, eyes pivoting from the guy, to his phone still in his hand, and back to the guy and his open, expectant face. After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, I could eat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could, could you?”

The guy smiles, and even in this mostly dark room Joe can see he has dimples and has to hold himself back from practically swooning, cursing his half-drunk self of the night prior for not remembering exactly how attractive this guy was. “I could use some coffee, is what I can use,” he says, stretching his arms over his head, and Joe is treated to the sight of his bare, bitten up chest. Usually he doesn’t take much notice of his partner's body hair, but as he lets his eyes trace over the guy's chest and legs as he moves to stand he finds himself clearing his throat and getting a little warm along his neck.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he responded distractedly, pulling his eyes away from the luscious sight of the guy's ass as he bends to retrieve his underwear and instead moving to put his own on. After a second thought he pulls on his shirt as well; might do him some good if he finds himself flushing up at just a glimpse of this guy's ass.

As he slips his shirt over his head, the guy turns to him with a bit of a sheepish look on his face. “Can I admit something?” he asks, lips scrunched.

Joe pauses, still grasping the hem of his shirt. “What?”

“I…” he starts, before chuckling somewhat awkwardly. “I don’t totally remember your name...”

A fair bit of relief surges through him at that, and Joe finds himself huffing out a laugh of his own, and adds another one at the half-embarrassed and half-expectant smile the guy gives him. “Can I admit something back?”

“What?”

“I don’t remember yours either.”

The guy's eyes widen minutely, before he tips his head back and laughs, nodding gently as he rubs a hand over his face. “Is it bad manners to say that’s a relief?”

“I think it’s alright as long as neither of us care,” Joe said, pushing his hair back, before stepping up to the guy and extending a hand. “I’m Joe.”

The guy grasped his hand in a sure grip. “David,” he replied with a little shake of their hands, before leaning in and pressing a dry kiss to Joe’s cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

Joe turned his face into David’s, catching his lips in a tender, if chaste, kiss. “Nice to meet you.”

[theduchessofdisaster]

A Bird in the Hand

Warnings: kidnapping, dubious consent, mind control, imprisonment.

Most people dreamed about being heroes who went to UA, but not you. Your quirk was not the kind that was usable in battle, unless you had wanted to be used as a shield... and as much as you valued heroisism... there was a limit to your ability to be a team player.

You had set yourself a much less lofty, but perhaps more profitable (and realistic goal, let’s be honest) of going into the business stream. You had an appreciation for heroes and Their aim to be on the front lines. You would be happy to be a support of their dreams and ambitions. But, your aim was an internship at one of the hero agencies, wherein you could help the heroes of today and tomorrow carve out a space in the sun. You had a knack for building relationships, and striking a bargain, and hoped that would help you in your quest to assist the heroes of tomorrow.

Besides, with a quirk like yours, it was better to be as far removed from the hero radar as possible. What you had was rarely useful to anyone but yourself. Immediate and permanent healing. That didn’t mean that you didn’t experience the pain of an injury, sadly that was not the case. What happened for you was that your body rejected the physical manifestations of an injury. The moment a knife scraped your hand, your body rejected the cut. You might bleed, depending on depth, but no actual injury would occur. And you would never scar either, which was a nice bonus to have.

The medical professionals that you had met throughout your life had wanted to study you, and use whatever part of your quirk they could replicate. You had spent time giving samples and demonstrations of your unique abilities for quite a large part of your youth, and so had a bit of an aversion to hospitals even now.

You were close to a few of the heroes in both class 1 and 2, and the support students were on your radar as well. You weren’t necessarily popular, but you were known. As a student focused on your studies, you were open to socialising whenever exams were not pressing in.

It hadn’t taken long after the first sports day for you to be impressed by several of your year 1 classmates. Shinso was a standout for you despite his ranking and not being in the hero stream just yet. Still, you could see him going far, and it wouldn’t take long for someone to see that he was an exceptional candidate for it. You approached warily, happy to see that he was interested in you as well, and while not outwardly apparent, touched that anyone had such a good impression of his abilities.

You didn’t work too hard at maintaining the relationship, but frequently said hi, or caught up with him in the moments he was available. Your no-nonsense attitude meant you rarely cared about what his ability could do to you, only what it could mean as a future hero. He also was friendly and driven enough that he made a good aquiantence and friend.

You had no idea that your attentions had Shinzo feeling any certain way. That his eyes lingered on you long after your brief exchange. He was thankful for the attention, and your interest in his abilities made him feel appreciated and liked. That you were also beautiful was not something he took for granted. He enjoyed watching the way you walked to class, how your eyes were viligantly watching your classmates. It was all very intriguing. Besides, Shinzo liked when your eyes found his, and he enjoyed the nod or smile he received whenever your eyes met. You didn’t seem to notice that his eyes had already been trained on you.

But Shinso had also been contacted by the league of villains, and his constant failure to get into the hero stream at school had left him aching for something more. When shigaraki had mentioned he would need some sort of Guarantee of his loyalty, something only shinso could provide, well his thoughts went dark. He knew someone he had said. Someone who had the ability to heal rapidly. Someone who no hero. He didn’t realize just how intrigued Shigaraki would be at a talent like yours.

So when he spoke to you one day with his eyes in yours you didn’t feel any different than usual. You were talking to him as you normally would, only to feel your mind go blank and your conscious no longer... there. You had taken a back seat to his will, a passenger in your own mind. He led you down alleys and streets far from school, and his voice was all you could hear in your head. You stared out the windows of your own eyes, but found no way of speaking your panic, no attempt to regain control was working.

You wanted to trust the boy who had smiled at you, wanted to know that he had your best interests in heart no matter how unsettling or wrong this felt. Still as your mind stayed securely locked on the back of your mind, and your senses dimmed you realized until he let you go, you could do nothing.

You paid little notice to where you were until you were switched back to being in control of your own body, and at that point you were only aware that you were in a smoky dimly lit bar. The eyes of shinsou and someone else you had seen before were on you as they discussed you.

“This is your exchange? Really? She’s a pretty little thing” The man covered in hands said, a red eye Largely obscured from view peering out you. “What did you say she has, a regenerative quirk?” He smirked at you, and his hands inches closer to your arm. You tried not to flinch as he laid restless fingers on you, laying them down one at a time, then drumming them on your skin, never allowing all of them to rest on you at once. You could feel a thrum of energy from him, but simply watched him with trepidation.

Yours eyes met Shinsou’s who for the first time since you knew him showed obvious displeasure, his jaw working to grind his teeth, his eyes focused on the fingers thrumming against your skin. Why did he bring you here to let someone touch you? “Why are you..” you start to ask, only for him to shake his head. Your eyes focus back on the man with the hands on you, and he gives a perverse chuckle as he hears your voice.

“Isn’t she sweet, and obedient too. Not going to ask your questions?” He cocks his head to the side, and you frown. Your logical mind knows you should be screaming, but you lack the information you need to know what is going on. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst to ask something? Your comb through your memory, aware of seeing this man somewhere, hearing that voice.... your blood stills in your veins when the recognition hits. You know who this is.

“Why am I here?” You ask him, looking at him rather than his dancing fingers. Your voice shakes slightly, but you try your best to sound calm. You know what he could do now, and you are not looking forward to finding out how your quirk holds up against his. And with a eye to shinsou you ask him “you know this is not how you get into the hero stream right? Were we not working on that together?” Your disappointment is almost worse than your fear. If you had your notebook you would scratch him off of the top of your list of heroes you would manage someday.

He has the gall to look unashamed. “Sadly, there is little chance of that, and I got a better offer.” He said. There was a moment where his breath hitched before he resumed his unapologetic air. The other man gave a mildly manic cackle and your eyes returned to his.

“My turn! I can tell you why your here... your little friend mentioned what you can do... and my little NPC I wanted to see if you can carry my burdens...” he smirked at his little joke, and his restless fingers clamped down on your arm. There was a tingle and your arm felt his attempt to disintegrate you, your skin knit itself back together over and over, as his quirk tried to battle against your quirk. You could feel it trying to work on you, the pain of falling apart ever present as his hands touched you, but you refused to break under him, regenerating over and over as he stayed pressed against you. When he pulled away, your skin was perfect. No mark or scar. “How perfect!” He said with glee.

He brought both hands down to your face, and the pain was immense, yet no longer how long he held down, your body refused to show any damage. You cried out, you could feel what he was doing but, no matter the pain your body refused to let you feel it. It hurt, it burned. And tears streamed down your face as he laughed at you.

“Perfect! Perfect!” He said, backing away. You cried out as he let you go, and lent your head back against the chair headrest. “She was made for me...” he said, his voice hushed as he looked you over once again. Your body slumped in horror at the look on his face. He turned to Shinsou, and gave a broad grin. “Your pledge is accepted! You passed level 1! Welcome to the league. Now, do you mind getting out of here?” He said turning back to you. “I got a companion quest to start.”

[jaxsteamblog]

Ambassador

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

After the daylong comedy of errors, and a scathing phone call from Katara, Zuko and Sokka sat across from each other, staring down at Zuko’s phone. Zuko was sure they were both trying to process everything that happened, but there wasn’t any way for him to begin to understand.

He was still trying to find out if he was going to get in trouble for breaking into the North Pole and breaking his leg. This was completely out of his capacity for logic.

“Could you imagine if it was Katara instead of me who ended up as ambassador?” Sokka asked as they headed toward the private wing.

“Hmm.” Zuko intoned, narrowing his eyes.

“What?” Sokka asked, glancing over.

“I’m trying to figure out if that would be better or worse.” Zuko said.

“I’m going to assume you mean that as a purely hypothetical because you are, of course, thrilled that your best friend is living here now.” Sokka said, shoving Zuko hard enough to make him stumble.

Zuko chuckled, quickly regaining his balance.

“Of course. But I think I’d somehow manage to get even less work done with her around.” He said.

“That’s my sister, dude.” Sokka groaned.

Zuko laughed. But as the night went on, and he lay in bed, he wondered what it would have been like.

“If the Fire Lord is ready,” the assistant said, bowing low, “the White Lotus has arrived.” 

Zuko straightened his robe and stood behind his desk, nodding curtly for the assistant to usher in his guests. 

When the White Lotus announced the ambassador program, he worried about what kind of impression he would make on the diplomats. He was the traitorous son of the now imprisoned usurper Fire Lord. Iroh tried to assure him that the Earth Kingdom delegate was sympathetic, but Zuko didn’t know how fully he believed that.

And neither Sokka nor Katara had given him much of a hint when he asked about the Water Tribe.

“Good to see you again, Zuko.” A subdued voice said and Zuko roused himself.

“Welcome, Master.” He replied, bowing. Piandao waved his hand dismissively, and Zuko tried to calm down as he straightened.

The other members of the White Lotus, excluding Iroh, trickled in.

When Tenzin came into view, Zuko flinched. He could never figure out where he stood with the Air Nomad leader. 

“Fire Lord Zuko, I have the appointments here.” Tenzin said. As the older man walked forward, he held out the dense scrolls; a number of colored seals spilled out from the ends. 

“Thank you.” Zuko said, starting to walk around his desk but halting as his assistant intercepted the scrolls. Of course he couldn’t take his own paperwork.

“Fire Lord.” The assistant said, bowing. Zuko withheld his sigh as he took the scrolls. 

Cracking open the Earth Kingdom seal on one, he quickly scanned the characters. He had no idea who Mr. Ying was, but maybe that was a good thing. No news was good news.

Setting the open scroll on his desk, he neatly split the Water Tribe seal. 

Before he could even read it, his eyes caught on the familiar characters.

“Katara?” He questioned.

“While she does not have a lot of experience,” Tenzin said carefully. “She was appointed by the Avatar herself.” 

“No, that’s fine. It’s just…” Zuko cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I was under the impression that Master Katara was enrolled in medical school.” 

“She’s doing this at the personal request of the Avatar.” Katara’s voice said from behind the door.

“Master Katara, this is highly inappropriate.” Tenzin said, his voice flat.

“Aw come on, you knew this was going to happen.” Katara replied as she stepped into the room. Zuko’s throat dried and he busied himself with rolling up the scroll.

“That’s why I was against this whole thing.” Tenzin sighed.

“Too bad no one can say no to Thuy.” Katara retorted and then turned her attention to Zuko.

“Hi Katara.” Zuko said, unable to stop his smile.

“Hey.” She said with a bright smile of her own.

Dinner that night passed in a blur. Zuko could barely remember talking to the Earth Kingdom ambassador, instead watching Katara engage with the others at her table. For some reason, it made his heart flutter seeing her laugh with the governor of Hira’a.

After dinner, Zuko offered to show Katara around one of the gardens. She agreed readily, and they went out into the cool night, silence finally finding them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, when they were far enough away from the palace.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Katara said.

“But what about school?” Zuko asked. 

“I was failing out.” She sounded pained, and Zuko grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“It’s okay. Maybe I’ll go back later, to a smaller school. I know I can do it, but those lecture halls were massive.” She replied and they were quiet again.

There was work to be done with her around, and Zuko knew that rationally. But a lot of the work involved the war, and as he looked over at her, he grew concerned. 

One of the many projects meant to handle the wartime tragedies was paying out reparations and benefits to former POWs. That included Katara’s own father. 

Then there was the subject of her mother. 

“The work is going to be hard.” Zuko said.

“I know.” 

“And personal.”

Katara stopped him, pulling on his hand to make him turn.

“Do you think I can’t handle it?” She asked.

“It’s not that. I’m worried it’s going to hurt you.” Zuko replied. 

Katara took his other hand in hers and gently swung them, looking down at the ground.

“I know it was rash, but I didn’t want to lose this chance.” She said.

“What chance?” Zuko asked.

“Being with you.” Katara looked up at him, a small smile on her face.

Zuko frowned, and her face fell.

“What is it?” She asked.

Zuko took back his hands and held her face, stepping in to kiss her. Katara leaned into him, running her hands up his back. Her lips, her tongue, her breath, everything that he could take in, Zuko took greedily. 

When he did step back, Katara reeled, slightly dazed.

“That was nice.” She murmured. 

“This isn’t like you.” Zuko said.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, a laugh in the background of her words.

“You would never put me before everything else.” Zuko said, then sighed, looking bemused. “As much as I would love that.”

“Of course I would! I love you, Zuko.” Katara said.

“No, you wouldn’t. You would’ve dropped out when I asked you to if that were true. You would always chase your dream to be a doctor, because you love your people more than anything else.” Zuko countered.

“You are my dream.” She said firmly. 

“I am very much not.” Zuko, still holding her face, looked into her eyes. “Plus, you would be terrible at this job.”

“And why’s that?” Katara asked, moving her hands to hold onto his arms. 

“Because if I were to work in any sort of proximity with you, I would be trying to get you alone and in a locked room.”

“Zuko!” 

“You would be amazing. You would fight for your people here, even as the work eroded you. You would balance out all of the hostile mess in my court. You would be bound to the spirit that surrounds my entire country and that, well,” Zuko smiled and Katara’s face flushed. “I don’t want to explain why that intrigues me so much.” 

“So why do you say this isn’t my dream?” She asked.

“Because it’s mine.” Zuko said softly, kissing her again. 

Having her near him was everything he could ever want. He wanted to dress her in red and black, with the blue tied neatly at her neck. He wanted her at court, bearing down on his ministers and governors that constantly stymied his work. He wanted her compassion and her vengeance as he made his penance for the war. 

There would be long nights as they worked together on these projects. He wanted to see her asleep every single night. He wanted to pin a crown in her hair.

“I am going to marry you.” Zuko said.

“Yes.” Katara agreed.

“Blazes, I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.” He said, his voice shaking manic energy.

“Nothing?” She asked, coyly.

“Well…” Zuko replied.

Loud knocking made Zuko jolt upright.

“Fire Lord? Your breakfast is ready.” Someone called through his door.

Sitting up, Zuko rubbed his face. 

It had been three days, and he was already back to having these dreams again. 

Gripping his blanket, Zuko looked over at the empty half of his bed.

A broken leg hadn’t been that bad, all things considered.

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[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Day 4: Daemons

Greetings! I hope everyone is having a less profoundly irritating day than I am. Also, migraine :( 

Today I bring you a Daemon-verse fic, ala His Dark Materials. Whilst I love the idea of animal souls, and I love Daemon fic, I have never read or see His Dark Materials, so if I’ve messed up on the laws of daemons, I apologise. 

It was intended to follow Alice from awakening through to around her discovery of her past, but I’m honestly on the fence about how the final version will shape up.

The list of daemons is below the cut, which might be spoilery but I think it’s easier to envisage what’s happening when you know what each daemon looks like. 

Onwards! (And thank you for reading!)

--

Cast

Alice – Milo - ??

Jasper – Lula – grey wolf

Rosalie – Beauregarde – white mink

Emmett – Allegra - Sun bear

Esme – Pax – Tree pangolin

Carlisle – Winnie – Giant Anteater

Edward - Khalida - Owl

Bella – Egil - Crane

--

One.

She wakes up in the mud, curled into a ball. Beetles are crawling through her hair, and there is mud – and blood? – dried all down one side of her.

He was curled against the small of her back, and clung to the ragged gown she was wearing as she sat up, blinking confused ruby-coloured eyes.

She does not recognise him at all, does not even know her own name, and he is terrified of her blood-coloured eyes, and what she has become. She has been born anew, and what she doesn’t remember cannot hurt her. She is bright and cheerful and giddy in a way that she has never been before.

“What are you?” she asks eagerly, kneeling before him, smiling.

“I’m you. You’re me. I’m… your soul,” he explains, and her lips into a surprised ‘o’.

“What is your name?” is her next question, one that breaks his heart.

“Milo,” he says. “Me-lo.”

“And I’m …Alice?” she says, suddenly uncertain.

“Yes. You’re my Alice.”

She scoops him up and kisses his nose, and for the first time, he thinks they might be okay.

Two.

They are wrong, and she doesn’t even know it.  

He tries to talk about it, weeks after she awakens as a red-eyed monster.

“I used to be a mouse,” he says suddenly, as they make their way through the forest.

“Really?” she looks intrigued.

“Yes.”

He hasn’t settled. He can feel his skin alight with energy and possibility, and he worries. She was sent away before he ever settled, and then everything happened to them.

Are they broken?

When she asks, he denies remembering ‘much’ from before she woke, remembering their names and the fact that he was a small white mouse with grey ears, which she accepts without question.

He is lying.

He remembers most of everything that happened to them. And whilst he hates her red eyes, and watching her feast on the stray humans that cross their path, he adores this cheerful, joyous self.

She steals a dress in the next town they cross through, a yellow gingham with ties at the back and a pocket big enough for him to ride in, that seems to swallow her up. She keeps the filthy, ratty hospital gown she was found in, wearing it like a cape, until she steals a bag. She carries it in there, along with a little notebook and a pencil, a second dress (dark blue wool, just as stolen.)

She finds a piece of blue ribbon one night, and ties it loosely around his neck, stroking his soft fur, and cradles him, her face so happy.

If this is broken, they’ll be okay.

Maybe.

Three.

They have a peaceful existence for twenty-eight years. They stay in the forests, only sneaking into small towns to steal after she learns that she can hunt wild animals instead of humans. That makes him feel better about what she’s become.

Everything is wonderful to her - the flowers, the weather, whatever her latest outfit is. She would sit for hours, watching a spider spin a web, or sit in the branches of a tree, watching birds build nests, utterly transfixed.

The dreams that made her family turn away from her have become fulling fledged visions of the future, ones that seize her without rhythm or warning. Those visions are for her mind only, though she shares every detail with him - including that of the vampire she calls Jasper.

He’s worried about how she speaks about Jasper, about the look on her face when she’s thinking of him. But Alice promises him that Jasper will only mean good things - like the Cullens.

“We’ll have a family, Milo!” she beams, lying in the soft grass next to a river, stroking him. “A mother and a father and brothers and a sister!”

She had a mother and a father and a sister, and they turned her into this, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He tucks their lost history in the back of his heart and tries not to worry.

He’s sorrier than he can say when their solitude ends, and they slide into Philadelphia. They break into a hotel room to wash, and Alice seems giddy with excitement; then to a shop where Alice tries on a dozen dresses, and stuffs the toes of a pair of shoes so that they fit properly. She twirls in the mirror, and she’s beautiful. She even steals a bag, little brush and some new ribbon for him, so that he can be fancy too.

“We have to make a good impression,” she informs him, as she pockets a gold tube of lipstick and then some gold hairpins. “It’s our fate."

Their date with destiny goes to plan, though Milo wishes that he had been able to see the visions, to be prepared. This ‘Jasper’ is not just anyone; he’s over six feet tall, with dozens of overlapping scars, black eyes and lank blonde hair. He’s not particularly bulky, but every movement reveals his strength and skill; he practically emits violence - as does the mangy grey wolf at his side.

But Alice doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. She gets up and goes to him, her eyes full of him before he ever knows her name. Milo just huddles in her stolen handbag, his ribbon drooping, and waits.

Somehow the impossible happens and Jasper takes Alice’s hand. The wolf - Lula, Jasper calls her - huffs, and Alice scoops up her bag and they walk out into the drizzly night together.

Four.

She doesn’t tell Jasper about them, about how wrong they are. He’s told her before, gently, but she really doesn’t understand, and so it isn’t important. It’s up to him to worry and plan and watch.

Lula keeps her distance, and her eyes see everything. Every odd statement, every little mistake that reveals how broken they truly are. But Lula is not cruel or unkind - she is simply wary, and as more pieces of Jasper’s story comes out, Milo understands why.

The worst day is the one Alice spies a fawn drinking at a stream and stuffs him into Jasper’s hands before taking off.

Jasper audibly gasps, and he flinches but Alice doesn’t even look back.

Milo flickers in and out, and the sugar-glider form vanishes, leaving behind the grey and white mouse form.

“She doesn’t understand,” he manages to tell Lula, trying not to shake at the feeling of Jasper’s hands cradling him, at the faint pulling as Alice strains their link.

Lula whines, and Jasper looks at him carefully, and follows Alice. Her hunt is successful, blood on her mouth, and she beams up at them all without seeing the pity, the new understanding in their eyes. Instead, she splashes some water on her face, and reaches out for him, letting him run up her arm and tuck himself under the collar of her dress. Then she tucks her arm through Jasper’s and smiles up at him.

He wonders, later, if she truly doesn’t understand how broken then are.

Or she just doesn’t care.

Five.

The Cullens seem nice, and Esme is enchanted by Milo, currently a meerkat, who likes high places.

But he worries. So does Jasper. And the Cullens are surprised by the way Lula trails after Alice – the separation is a strain on both Jasper and Lula, but one they bear without flinching to make sure Alice is safe. But Alice and Jasper are connected in a special way, and Alice always jerks slightly when she realises that Lula has stretched as far from Jasper as they can tolerate, always apologetic at her ignorance. She knows that the pull other people experience when separated from their daemons is much more painful than when she and Milo seperate.

She doesn’t ask why, she just accepts it. Sometimes he wonders if she knows, in her heart of hearts, how much they suffered. How there’s no pain now because they ran through all of it - and then some - in the Before.

And then two things go terribly wrong. They are there only a week or so before there is a family hunting trip. He rides in the pocket of Alice’s new coat, and he wants to pretend everything is fine but he can feel the energy under his skin, twitchy and static.

He climbs out and scrambles up her shoulder, around her neck and back again – trying to burn off the manic energy.

He hears her voice – for his ears only. “It’s okay, Milo. Don’t force it.”

He knows. They aren’t settled, it’s going to happen eventually, and they’re going to know.

She still doesn’t understand that they will be ostracised for such a thing. Not Jasper’s warlike history, not his slip-ups, not her gift, but because they are deformed freaks.

It happens with a crack as he hits the ground – from meerkat to pika. He hears Rosalie’s hiss of horror, of gasps and growls at the unexpected shift and he scrambles back to Alice’s ankles, where she scoops him up tenderly.

“Better?” she asks out-loud, gently scratching his neck. He just nuzzles in.

The Cullens are horrified. A splayed-out corpse would be less obscene, less of a tragedy than a vampire with an unsettled daemon.

Jasper is glowering at them, Lula’s glare dark as well. The message is clear - do not draw attention to this. Do not upset them.

Esme’s Pax and Carlisle’s Winnie are both upset, curling together, fear in their eyes. Beau tucks himself deeper into Rosalie’s hair.

Alice looks back up, still happy, still ignorant and no one breathes a word.

The second time, it is an accident, it is instinct and it is terrifying. Jasper and Emmett are wrestling, and Alice is perched on a rock, jeering at Emmett’s attempts to pin Jasper. The rest of the family is nearby – enjoying the peace of the forest.

Emmett and Allegra are nice, and he trusts them. He does.

But Emmett looks at them with a glint and lunges, grabbing Alice around the arms and flinging her over his shoulder with a victorious roar.

A prankster, a gentle giant, a consummate big brother – all things Milo knows about Emmett. But there is a flash of unease in Alice’s mind that he’s not sure she is even aware of, and the way he grabs her is so reminiscent of how they would drag her away back at the asylum… the way she would cry…

Jasper and Lula are pissed, too, but they are a blur as he lunges – a two-pound meerkat that shifts into an almost-seven hundred pound Siberian Tiger that roars at Emmett, whose eyes are as wide as saucers.

Rosalie is shrieking, Esme is clutching Carlisle and Alice is bewildered, but holding her hands out in an attempt to placate him, still upside down on Emmett’s shoulder.

Lula is suddenly at his side, looking tiny and delicate against his new form (and it is entirely new. He’s never been a predator before, never been too big to carry). He growls at her but it is not a threat, but an expression of fear at the way Emmett grabbed at Alice, at that tiny flash in the back of her mind that remembered their suffering.

“Put Alice down, Emmett.” Edward is there, calm and collected. “You startled them. Jasper, can you calm them?”

As soon as Alice’s feet hit the ground, Jasper is by his side, stroking his head and pushing peace and security onto him. Alice is there, too, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his fur. Rosalie and Allegra are clinging to Emmett, who looks shell-shocked.

Esme and Carlisle are having a quick conversation, too low for anyone else to hear.

“I’m sorry, Alice, Milo. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Emmett’s apology is unexpected in the tense silence, and is genuine. His voice is steady and he is sympathetic; Rosalie is giving them murderous looks.

He looks at Emmett for awhile before resting his giant head against Alice’s, his eyes closing and a loud huff leaving his body.  

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers to him. “We’re safe here. I promise.”

He wishes he could believe her.

[kimmietea]

Double Yikes! Part 1 (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary: Ben and Reader go on their date.

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, cursing...sickly sweet touching moments

Continuation of Yikes!

A/N: Wow ok hi everyone! Is this actually happening? Im actually posting this! So i decided to break up Double Yikes into 2 parts. First of all because it has been way too long and i feel awful for making you all wait and 2 because I’m struggling with the end and I'm hoping this will buy me some more time. I don’t bite so please tell me what you all think. Do you hate it? Love it? Want more? Tell me all of it. I love to hear from you. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for when part 2 is finished. Ok I think that’s it...oh don’t forget Italics is reader thinking to herself in her head. Alright let’s do this!!

TagList:: @borhapqueen92  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @gwendolyns-stacy @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @mythicmazzellos  @hardforbenhardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod

*********************************************

“Wait wait, read it to me again.” Morgan said stuffing the last bit of her lunch into her mouth. You were both sitting in your office for lunch, talking about Ben and your upcoming date that night, when he texted you as promised a few hours before.

“It says 'Do you mind if I pick you up for our date? I really want to be a perfect gentleman.' Then there are the fingers crossed emoji and in brackets '🤞(please say yes).' You read and flipped the phone around to show her.

"Want to be? Hell he already is."

"I'm so nervous. He still didn't say where or what time. What if I don't get out of work in time to shower? Oh god I'm gonna smell on our first date. What am I gonna wear? If I don't have enough time to shower then I might not have enough time to change. Oh god what if i wear what i'm wearing now. He's gonna look and smell so good. All showered and sexy in whatever he's got on and I'm gonna be this gross, smelly potato still in her clothes from work. Im freaking out!" You were spiraling.

"Alright calm down. One thing at a time. Let's come up with a reply. Do you want him to pick you up?"

"Of course I do." You smiled. "Better chance of a goodnight kiss."

"Or a good morning kiss" She muttered.

"Morgan!" She held her hands up in defense.

“I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”

She’s not wrong

“Oh shut up and help me.”

 Together you came up with a reply and he responded with the time he would be by to pick you up and the dress code, to which he described as 'Fancier than work but not the royal wedding.', because he refused to tell you where you were going, causing you to stress about it for the rest of the day. At least you would have enough time to shower and change.

By the time you left work, you were nothing but a big nervous mess. When you got home you had 2 hours to get ready before Ben would be there. You went straight to the shower making sure every bit of you was clean and any place that needed shaving was taken care of just in case things ended the way Morgan said they would.

You were definitely not the type of girl to sleep with a guy on the first date but there was something about Ben. A pull you just couldn't explain. A need to be close to him but at the same time a need to be far away because you were so nervous you may vomit all over him. Plus this very well could be the last time you see him, him being an actor and his career on the verge of skyrocketing and all. So why not make the most of it if the opportunity arises.

After your shower you spent way too long in the closet trying to pick something to wear. You finally decided on what Morgan called your "Posh Spice Dress". It was a simple black dress that stopped mid thigh, with thin straps.

Hair and makeup came next and you kept things simple. Minimal makeup and a simple, messy sort of bun with a few pieces falling around your face. You received a text from Ben notifying you that he was on his way.  Shoes on, wallet and keys in purse. You snapped a quick picture in the full length mirror and sent it off to Morgan as promised.

The knock at the door made you jump and almost drop your phone.

Jesus that was fast.

You could feel your hands start to sweat and your heart pound as you walked to the door.

Breath you manic, it's just a date. Breath.

You opened the door and the breath you just talked yourself into taking was stolen from you. Ben was dressed in a wonderful black suit and dark green shirt, making his eyes stand out. His hair was tousled just enough so a piece hung over his forehead. He was looking at the floor but when the door opened he looked up. He shook his head to get the stray piece or hair off his forehead but it did nothing but make you weak in the knees.

Fuuuuck! You beautiful bastard. My god, I'm gonna be distracted all night.

The effect he had on you must have shown on your face because his cheeks were a light pink.

"Hey." He smiled.

"Hi." You managed to get out. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You were grateful you were still holding the door otherwise you'd be on the ground.

"Wow you look... absolutely stunning." You looked to the ground to try and hide the furious blush that was now burning your face.

“Oh um these are for you.”  He handed you the small batch of daffodils you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“My favorite. How did you know?” Trusting your knees wouldn't fail you, you moved inside and gestured for him to follow. In the kitchen you found a vase and filled it with water before turning to face him.

“I may have called the office and asked Morgan.” His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You clenched your legs together and did everything you could not to moan out loud.

How inappropriate would it be if I jumped him right now?

“Sorry. That’s kinda creepy now that I say it out loud.” He laughed.

“No it’s not creepy. It’s thoughtful. They’re beautiful, thank you Ben.” You reassured and touched his arm gratefully. He nodded and when you turned to place the vase on the counter he let his fingers brush where you had touched his arm.

“Ready?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Yep.” You grabbed your things and headed out the door to Bens car that was waiting in the parking lot of your apartment building. Keeping up his promise of being the perfect gentleman, he walked you to the passenger side and opened the door for you. His hand on your lower back the entire way. Once you were both settled in the car he passed you his phone, spotify was pulled up.

“Alright D.J. do your thing.” He said, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. You laughed and took the phone from him.

Ok do NOT fuck this up!

“Ah the real test.” You scrolled for a little.

“You probably think I'm going to play something Queen.” You saw the smirk on his face but he stayed silent.

Don’t be a cliche bitch.

“While i do love Queen, I'm sure that's all anyone ever plays for you now and I refuse to be that person.” You hummed and scrolled through his playlists. Surprisingly you had a lot of the same taste in music.

Should I pick something funny? Maybe a love song? No, to mushy.

“Oh I got it.” You said before clicking the one you had chosen. ’Thank you’ from Led Zeppelin. Just the right amount of lovey without being obvious. You watched his face as the music started. The smirk faded and a soft smile appeared.

“Why yes boys, she’s not just a pretty face, she’s got great music taste too.” You joked. His face didn’t change. He turned to glance at you before returning his eyes back to the road, smile still in place.

Oh shit. No real reaction.

“So, how’d I do?” You asked. You felt almost nauseous with the butterflies in your stomach. He looked to you again, a look you couldn't place.

"Perfect." He answered in almost a whisper. There was something more to that answer, you could feel it. There was tension in the car. Not a bad one, not a sexual one. Just an energy, an electric charge. This wasn't going to be just a regular date.

I wonder if he can feel that too.

Before either one of you could break the tension your phone chimed with a text message. You took your phone from your purse to see a message from Morgan.

‘YAS you sexy bitch! Get that dickin’ down girl!’ You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of you.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked.

Oh shit

You put your phone on silent and put it back in your purse after texting her back a thumbs up and a winking emoji. The mood in the car shifted, it was light, fun and you could breathe normal again.

“Just Morgan being Morgan.”

“Is that the ‘Let me know if you need me to get you out of this awful date and I'll make something up.’ text?” You laughed and shook your head.

Nope, just my best friend wishing me good luck on tryin to sex you up tonight.

“No, actually believe it or not, we didn’t even have that conversation.” You told him truthfully. The thought of coming up with an escape plan in case things went south didn’t even cross your mind. His smile grew.

“Feelin’ pretty good about this date then?” He chuckled, doing his best to joke but you could hear the nerves in his voice. You turned your full attention to him and put your elbow on the middle console, your chin resting in your hand, a warm smile on your lips. He pulled up to a stop light as you answered.

“Very good.” He turned to look at you, his smile still soft, that look in his eyes you couldn’t place was still shining at you. You watched as his eyes moved all across your face, as if he was doing his best to capture every inch of it, commit it to memory so he would never forget.

Oh my god please kiss me.

The mood shifted again and you found it hard to catch your breath.

There is no way he isn’t feeling this. It’s too strong.

He brought his hand up and let the back of his knuckles gently run along the side of your face.

How have I not noticed how full his lips are. I bet they feel amazing.

“Me too.” He whispered.

Oh god I'm in trouble.

The light turned green, the mood shifted again and Ben continued to the restaurant. As if that intense moment hadn’t just happened. All the mood changes were making you dizzy.

The rest of the ride was nice, you chatted about little things, his upcoming projects, how the rest of your work day was. When you pulled into a spot at the restaurant, Ben jumped out and ran around to your side of the car opening the door for you and offering his arm. You grinned at him and looped your arm in his.

Once inside and at your table, a perfect cozy spot in the corner, Ben pulled your chair out for you. You recognized the name of the restaurant, ‘Ember’ . It was the new hot spot. It was only open a few months and already the reservation list was booked up till a year and a half from now.

How did he get us in here? He doesn't seem like one of those actors to use his name or the fact that he’s an actor, to get what he wants.

You stopped looking at your menu to look at him, his eyes were roaming the page.

“I have to say, I’m a little impressed you were able to get us here on such short notice.” He laughed and glanced up at you.

“Don’t be. The head chef, Ryan, is a close mate from back home. I had to beg him for about an hour after I left your office to get us a table.”

Ugh. The cutest.

“That and while i'm in town I owe him 3 nights of babysitting his 4 year old daughter, Olivia, so him and his wife can go out. So yeah not too impressive.”

Jk, that was the cutest. And now I'm picturing Ben with a 4 year old. I am fuckin done for.

“I wouldn’t say that. I find the fact that you called my office to find out my favorite flower, begged your friend for a table at his restaurant and gave up 3 of your nights to babysit all to have dinner with some girl you just met 10 hours ago kinda impressive.” He smiled and set his menu aside.

"Well she's definitely not just some girl." You also put your menu aside, your head tilted sweetly to the side.

"Oh no?"

"No, she's special." Your heart skipped a beat. That same electric feeling from the car was back.

Fuck.

"Well she thinks you're pretty special too." His face went red and he looked down at the table to try and hide it. The waitress approached the table. She was young, early 20s for sure, pretty and clearly recognized Ben. The electric feeling was gone again.

"Hi, I'm Kate. I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?" She said a little too sweetly. She angled herself towards Ben, her back slightly to you. You could already feel yourself getting agitated.

Please do not fuck up my night with this man you little hoe.

Ben ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you after looking to you for the okay which you gave with a smile and nod. Kate leaned into him just so as he ordered an appetizer for you to share. You were not normally a fan of guys who ordered for their dates but something about the way Ben did was incredibly sexy.

"Is that alright my darling?" He asked. His eyes were wide and innocent, a slight blush on his cheeks.

He's so considerate. And completely oblivious.

You could see the annoyed look on Kate's face as he addressed you. You smirked.

"Of course, whatever you want. I trust you." You said and placed your hand on top of his that was resting on the table. His smile grew so wide it took up his entire face.

He's gonna kill me with that smile.

He flipped his hand over in yours so he could hold it properly. He glanced down at them then back up to you, a questioning look on his face. You smiled and squeezed his hand in reassurance. His wide smile was back again.

"I'll go put this in." Kate said, trying to pull his focus.

"Thank you." He replied and held the menus out of her to take. His eyes never leave you. You felt a surge of confidence pull through your whole body. She huffed, took the menus from him.

"Don't we need those to order?" You asked.

"Oh, Ryan said he wanted to make us something special. For us to just order an appetizer and wine and he would take care of the rest."  

Wow VIP treatment. I'm seriously impressed.

Kate rolled her eyes and turned to leave.

"Oh Kate, could we also get some water please?" You smiled at her. You couldn't help that it was a little smug. Before she could answer Ben brought your joint hands up to his lips, placing a kiss to your knuckles before returning them to the table.

Perfect timing you charming bastard.

"Of course." She answered with a fake, forced smile and left. Your eyes returned to Ben. His smile was shining, addictive and contagious. You could feel yours growing to match. The conversation flowed easily. You talked about everything. Gone were any awkward moments. It was like you had known each other for years vs. only a few hours. You both were still shy and nervous at times but were growing more confident and comfortable as dinner went one. After you both had the amazing meal Ryan prepared for you, he came over to the table.

"Well well if it isn't little Jonesy." He laughed and threw his arm around Ben's shoulders, pulled him close and tousled his hair.

"Mate come on. I'm on a bloody date. Stop it." He struggled to get out of his friend's hold. Ryan laughed and placed a big smacking kiss on Ben’s cheek.

“Muah! Missed you mate.”

“Yeah yeah I missed you too. Now get off of me.” He shook him off but he was grinning the entire time. Ryan shoved at his shoulder with a matching grin before turning his attention to you.

"You must be Y/N, It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, offering his hand to shake.

"And you. Thank you so much for that meal. It was amazing. You are very talented" You gushed and met his hand with yours.

"Great taste and extremely beautiful." Ryan said letting your hand go and leaning into Ben's side.

"That she is." Ben answered, his eyes trained on you. Your heart fluttered.

"She's far too good for you Jonesy." Ryan joked.

"Don't I know it." You were sure your face was red and flushed.

Well that couldn't be more untrue. I'm so worried you're going to realise I'm just an average girl and then you'll be gone.

"Alright shove over, let's catch up for a bit." Ryan said grabbing a chair from a nearby table and pulling it up to yours. Ben slid his chair over to make room.

Oh shit, here we go nerves.

He was now sitting next to you rather than across. His arm instinctively draped over the back of your chair.

Okay, okay deep breath. Fuck he smells so good. No more deep breaths.

The boys chatted away, mostly about what they've been up to and Ryan's family. Ryan asked what you did, you told him and explained that was how you and Ben met.

"You know I would love to do a piece on you." You said taking a sip of wine. Having Ryan there had calmed your nerves, took some of the pressure off. You were relaxed and you could tell Ben was too. He leaned back in his chair, arm still draped over the back of yours. You were lent forwards, elbows on the table engaged in the conversation.

"Me?" Ryan laughed surprised.

"Yeah, I think the people would love to learn about the head chef at the new hot spot. I mean only if you're interested that is. You don't have to. Just a thought."

“That sounds good. Jonesy can give you my number, give me a call and we’ll set it up.” You smiled, feeling proud.This was gonna get you some serious points with your boss.

“Alright, I'm going to stop hogging your date and get back to work. Y/N it really was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.” He said leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Jonesy I’ll see you soon for babysitting.” He laughed, hugged his friend and whispered to him.

“She seems perfect for you mate, don’t fuck it up.” Ben laughed and kissed his cheek the same way Ryan had upon arriving at the table.

“I’m sending you guys some desert so get comfortable.” He said before leaving. You turned to look at Ben over your shoulder, he was grinning at you.

"What?" You asked, now matching his grin. He brought the hand that was draped over the back of your chair, up to your exposed back and let the tips of his fingers run across the skin. Despite feeling hot all over, you shivered and goosebumps appeared.

"I've never seen him take to someone so fast. Especially someone I'm interested in."

Ok butterflies, calm down.

“I guess that means I'm pretty awesome.” You joked and leaned back in your chair, turned towards him, your knees now touching. His hand moved to the side of your face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and let his finger gently continue over the shell of your ear, down your jaw and across your chin. Your heart was hammering in your chest. His touch was so soft and gentle you couldn't help but lean into him slightly.

Fuck. Me. Up.

“I’d say pretty awesome doesn't even begin to cover it.”

I swear if you don't kiss me right fuckin now i will exploed.

As if he was reading your thoughts he leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. He was so close now, you could feel his soft, warm breath across your face.

"Here's your desert." Kate, the waitress interrupted and placed a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the table between you.

God damn it!

She had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Bitch

Ben pulled back, cleared his throat and offered a weak smile to Kate. It took everything in you not to huff and pout like a child not getting the toy they wanted.

"Chef asked me to give you this." Kate said and passed what looked like the check to Ben before leaving again. You watched as his eyes traveled over it and a grin spread across his face.

"Cheeky shit." He laughed and handed it to you. It was a note from Ryan.

Dinner is on me. Not because of you Jonesy, cause your beautiful date. She charmed the pants off me. The wife's gettin lucky tonight! Hope you are too.

A warm blush spread across your cheeks.

"Well that was very sweet of him." You said trying not to focus on the "hope you get lucky" comment.

"He likes to embarrass me." Ben laughed and nudged the plate towards you. "Strawberry?"

You both ate your dessert and continued to chat. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him. Sure you still got nervous and giddy when he smiled at you and your heart would speed up, making your hands sweat but for the most part your nerves had calmed down enough for you to hold a conversation without stumbling over your words and flushing at the smallest up turn of his lips. When you finished Kate returned to the table to remove the plate and ask if you needed anything else.

“Actually may I borrow your pen?” Ben asked. She nodded and handed it to him. A hopeful look on her face. He took the note from Ryan, turned it over. You watched over his shoulder as he wrote:

Thanks for dinner you sexy man. See you soon for babysitting.

And signed it with a heart.

Kate looked disappointed.

Ha!

“Oh me next” You said, getting an idea. You searched your bag for your lipstick. Red lipstick wasn’t really your style but Morgan had convinced you to buy it once and it’s been in your bag ever since. You put it on, making sure to get it in the corners and lay it on thick. You could see Ben watching you out of the corner of your eye. His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes followed your hand as it traveled across your lips. You smirked at him a little as you rubbed your lips together before pressing your lips to the paper, leaving a perfect kiss mark. You wrote a quick thank you next to it.

“He’s gonna love that.” Ben said, his voice deep and a little rough.

Holy hotness batman

He gave Kate her pen back and asked if she would pass the note back to him. She agreed and left with the plate and note. Ben stood and held his hand out to you.

“Ready love?”

Your heart jumped a little.

Fuck I hope i never get used to hearing that

“Ready” You slyly wiped your sweaty hands on your dress before placing your hand in his. He helped you up and intertwined your fingers, pulling you close to his side as you both walked out of the restaurant. The car ride back to your apartment was filled with laughs. Ben was telling you stories about him and Ryan and all the crazy things they used to do, how they met, how Ryan met his wife and when Ryan asked Ben to be Olivia’s godfather.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your building he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘All part of the perfect gentleman package’ he told you. He took your hand again during the elevator ride up to your floor and swung your connected hands slightly as he walked you to your apartment and released it when you stood in front of the door.

Ok, goodnight kiss, let's do this!

"Thank you Ben, I had a really great time." He took a small step forward and placed one hand on your hip, your heart sped up. His hand felt heavy and the heat coming from him being so close spread through your entire body.

"So did I. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I never do this kind of thing but I couldn't leave your office without a definite way to see you again." He laughed a little to ease his nerves, his head leaning slightly closer to you.

Oh god ok, breath

"Well I'm very glad you did." You said, much softer than you intended. Ben had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes traveled over your face, landing on your lips. He was close and you could feel his breath across your face again, like at the restaurant. His heavy hand still firm on your hip, his thumb now rubbing along soothingly.

Please kiss me

He brought his other hand up to the side of your face, letting the tips of his fingers run over your cheekbone.

Pleeeease kiss me

You took a chance and placed your hand at the nape of his neck, letting your fingers intertwine in his hair. He smiled and licked his lips.

PAH-LEEAS KISS ME DAMN IT!

"Y/N, can I kiss you?" He whispered.

FUCKIN FINALLY!

Too afraid you'd actually say what you were thinking, you nodded. He smiled and leaned in slowly to close the space between you. You instantly felt an electric shock travel through you causing you to move closer towards him and tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss and slid his hand from your hip to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You sighed at the feeling of him being pressed against you and your lips parted. Ben wasted no time and slid his tongue along yours. You moaned and let your unoccupied hand glide up his torso, feeling his tight muscles under his shirt to rest on his chest. Ben's hand that was near your face moved to join his other on your back.

Your entire body was on fire, your head spinning, either from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of oxygen, you weren't sure. Just when you were about to pull back to see if he wanted to move things inside, he slid one of his hands down to rest on the curve of your ass.

You whined and pushed back into his hand. He moaned and gripped your ass roughly, causing you to involuntarily snap your hips forward into his. He moaned again and finally pulled away. Ben was panting heavily, his lips were swollen and red, his cheeks flushed and warm. You were sure you looked the same.

Alright, say something cool and invite him inside

You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"I can't do this." Your heart dropped and you could feel the color drain from your face.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger but i need to make sure you come back! Don’t hate me!

[uncloseted]

i related to effy an unhealthy amount when i was only 13 when i first watched it, but at the time i wasnt doing drugs, homewrecking, doing anything that young lol. however i was extremely mentally ill but undiagnosed, and so confused but i found solace in effys character because of how similar i felt to her. flashforward to being 20 now and im a nic addict/borderline drug and alcohol addict that forgets to take my prescribed antidepressants and antipsychotics. i cant tell you how many events of effys life have mirrored mine now 7 years later, both the pretty but mostly the ugly. it all feels like a joke to me, and the thing is of course it wasnt effy the fictional character that did this to me, it was the fact that i was genetically and epically set up to do this to me for as long as i existed and i saw myself in her too young. everyone ive ever met and started to befriend has fallen in love with me, has found me beautiful, and then seen my flaws and hated me even if they didnt tell me to my face. ive been a horrible friend and partner and im flighty and unreliable and destructive. i never saw effy, or a person like effy, find a happy ending and im afraid even when im at my manic highs i will never find a lasting happiness and will always accidentally self sabotage until i die. what im trying to ask is, how can i save me? i know its dumb to ask a random tumblr user but ive been following this blog since i was 13-14 and since you know effy through and through, you might know a little about me. its a long shot. (i’d also like to say this isnt a cry for help and im safe/not actively suicidal so i dont want you to feel like theres any pressure like that, but i did use this ask box as a free therapy session.)

I'm a bit biased, but I don't think there's anything wrong with asking a random Tumblr user at all. I'm happy to be a free therapy session when you need one, and I'm really touched that you've trusted me with your thoughts and feelings for so long. Hopefully I've been some help over the years 😆

Coping with mental illness can be really, really hard, but the good news is that with the right tools and support system, you can absolutely recover. It sounds like you already have a psychiatrist in your life, which is a great start. If you've having trouble remembering to take your medication, it might help to set calendar reminders on your phone, set up text prompts to remind you to take your pills, to link taking your pills with something else you do every day (like brushing your teeth or eating breakfast), or to reward yourself for taking your medication (for example, putting a piece of candy in your pill box that you can eat after taking your pill).

If you don't have one already, a therapist might also be a good idea. It can take a while to find the right therapist for you, so schedule a few appointments and see which therapist you "click" with. A therapist can help you work through any reluctance you might have towards taking you medications, as well as helping you come up with day to day strategies that help you achieve your goals and helping you work through the beliefs that you hold about yourself and the world that may be holding you back.

Moving on to talking about addiction for a bit. I strongly believe that addiction doesn't come from some type of inherent lack of willpower or moral failing, or even really the drug itself. It's the need to escape reality. And that's actually supported by scientific literature; most famously, the Rat Park experiment by Bruce K Alexander. Practically, we've seen that same thing in the aftermath of Portugal's decision to decriminalize all drugs. They took the money they were using to keep drug users in prison, and instead invested that money into reconnecting people who struggle with addiction to society. Their goal was to make sure that every person who struggles with addiction has a reason to get up in the morning and has a support system within the wider society. And it actually worked- injection drug use is down 50%, overdoses and HIV infections have massively decreased, and rates of addiction decreased as well. It's much easier to quit when you have something motivating you to keep going.

Why am I telling you all of this? I guess what I'm trying to get at is in order to recover from addiction, I think first people need to understand what the reality is that they're trying to escape. What can be done about those issues? Who's in your corner trying to support you, even if they're not doing the best job at it? Where else can you get the social support you might need? What are you passionate about? What would make it feel worth it to get up in the morning? I think instead of focusing on the drugs, or the alcohol, or the cigarettes, maybe we should focus on solving the root problems that make those attractive options. That's one of the reasons a therapist is a really good idea; they can help you figure out what those root problems are, and provide resources and tools to help you fix those problems.

In terms of practical, do it yourself advice for dealing with addiction, there are a couple things you might try. I did a whole post on evidence-based ways to set goals and follow through on them here, so I won't rehash it in this post, but basically:

Try to set goals that are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time bound. For you, this might be something like "My goal is to have only one drink a day (measurable and achievable) for week (time bound) so that I can be more reliable for my friends (relevant)".

Instead of trying to quit something, replace it with something else. For example, "when I feel like smoking, I'm going to do ten minutes of learning Korean instead". Learning something new is easier and more exciting, and so new habits are easier to maintain that breaking old ones. Find a new hobby that you've always wanted to do or that's exciting to you, and try to focus your energies on that to distract yourself.

Identify any obstacles (such as environmental triggers) that you might run into, and develop contingency plans for working around them. This might be something like, "when I drink coffee in the morning, I want to smoke, so I'm going to switch to tea instead." If you can, get rid of all environmental triggers that might remind you of your addiction or trigger a craving.

Get someone else involved. Tell a friend about your goal and have them check up on you. Your fear of disappointing them will help you stay on track.

Put money on the line. Give money to a friend with the understanding that you'll get it back at a set date if you've achieved the goal you set. Tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause you really hate.

Write down the reasons you want to quit, and put them somewhere you know you'll see them. Whenever you want to engage in an addiction behavior, read through that list first.

For bonus points, add to that list your contingency plan for when you want to engage in an addiction behavior. These may include ways to redirect your attention or distract yourself until the craving passes.

76% of people who wrote down their goals, actions and provided weekly progress to a friend successfully achieved their goals.

You might also try an addiction recovery app, such as these, or doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy worksheets on your own if you can't access a therapist right now.

There are also some things you can try in order to improve your mood. As much as I hate that this is true, consistent exercise has a huge impact on mood. If you can, try taking a 20 minute walk outside, 3 times a week. Other (boring) things, like making sure you're getting 7-9 hours of sleep a night and eating regularly, can also make a big difference in mood. Some of you might know that I'm a little bit obsessed with the free Coursera class "The Science of Well-Being". It has a lot of great evidence-based tips and tricks for how to build happiness, and I highly recommend it if you're trying to live a happier life. These include things like journaling, meditating, noting things that you're grateful for, helping other people, and having regular social interactions.

Finally, a few philosophical thoughts. One of the Four Noble Truths in Buddhism is dukkha. Basically, this is the idea that suffering is an innate characteristic of existence in our world. When I was younger, I never liked this concept, but I think now I kind of get it. It's impossible to be happy 100% of the time, and that shouldn't be our goal. Suffering is the comparison by which our lives gain meaning. But we can do our best to minimize our suffering and the suffering of others, and ride the wave of suffering when it does come. And each time we ride that wave, we can learn techniques to manage it a little bit better, and to make it easier the next time. We will sometimes sabotage ourselves out of fear, but we can learn how to do it less frequently and for the consequences to be less dire. We can learn how to forgive ourselves for our flaws and what we've done in the past, and learn from those mistakes so we don't do them again in the future. It's also okay to backslide, to struggle even after you've made progress. You're never back where you started, because you've always learned more and experienced more.

I know I've thrown kind of a lot at you in this post, and I don't expect you to try all of it or for all of it to work, but hopefully something in there is helpful to you. You can get through this. You can save yourself, but please, also remember to let others help save you. You don't need to do this on your own. And just like I have been since you were 13, I'm always here to give a free therapy session and to lend my support ❤️❤️❤️

[thecassadilla]

Don’t Look Back

Pairing: Kristanna

Rated: M

Word Count: 2,945/AO3

Summary: After their separation is prophesied by a strange woman, Kristoff goes on a quest to the underworld to save Anna.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is my contribution for Kristanna Week Day 5 - Blue! I wasn’t originally going to write a spin on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth for this day, but the idea came to me last night and I just had to write it out. I also apologize if I messed up any of the mythology, it’s been nearly 10 years since I last read this story and I kind of adapted it to suit the needs of the fic. I’m not really crazy about it because it’s a little different than all of the other stuff I’ve written but what am I gonna do? I hope you enjoy it despite it's weirdness!! (Sorry for all the asterisks, tumblr is finnicky with language and tags) *Please note that this fic is rated M for light s*xual content and temporary character d*ath*

There were few things rarer in the world than true love, and Anna and Kristoff had been lucky enough to find it with each other. In the beginning, they hid their feelings, and for far too long, they danced around the possibility of being together. When they finally came together, what grew between them was beautiful and rare.

In no time at all, they were blissfully married, and spending nearly every waking moment together. On this particular day, they’d gone for a stroll in the park, as the weather was getting colder by the day, and soon being outside would become unbearable. They walked hand in hand, bundled up in their winter attire, and walked along a wooded path. For such a brisk day, there were plenty of people out and about - children and families, joggers, dog walkers. They chatted about their upcoming plans and current events as they walked, damp leaves crunching beneath their shoes. Just as they were getting ready to leave, a wiry grey-haired woman approached them.

“There is very bad energy here,” the old woman warned, eyes widened with fear. “You will not last together.”

“Excuse me?” Kristoff asked, wrapping a protective arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“You’ll be torn apart,” she hissed and waved her hands around manically, before wandering up to another unsuspecting group of people.

“What does she know?” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t the superstitious type, but there was something about what the woman said that managed to rub him the wrong way. “That was...strange.”

She looked up at him, and frowned. “Are you actually worried?”

“No,” he lied, though it was useless - Anna was exceptional at reading his face.

“Nothing can tear us apart, my love,” she promised him, stroking his cheek with her soft, delicate fingers. “Nothing can come between us. Especially not a crazy old lady in a park.”

She’d said it with such confidence that he was able to temporarily brush off the overwhelming sense of doom that the old woman had managed to stir up in him. It wasn’t until they got home that evening that the anxiety returned. He normally kept a calm and level head, but losing Anna was his greatest fear and the sheer thought of it was enough to make his stomach turn. He was quiet throughout dinner as she blathered away and she didn’t bring up his unusual silence until they were lying on the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed.

“Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured him. “But I’m all ears if you change your mind.”

“It’s not a big deal, I just need to relax.”

“How about a bath?” she suggested, squeezing his arm. “I can’t think of anything more relaxing than that.”

He smiled at the thought of it and just a little while later, they were submerged in a tub of warm water and bubbles, her bare back pressed up against his solid chest. He pressed kisses to her neck and her ear, caressing her breasts with one hand and slipping his other hand to tease the sensitive area between her legs all while she giggled and moaned from his touch. They moved from the tub to their bed after they pruned up, eager to please each other and put the stress of the day behind them. It was so easy for him to get lost in her bright blue eyes as she looked up at him with adoration, biting her lip and digging her nails into his back as he thrust into her.

Long after they were both satisfied, he cradled her in his arm and she rested her head on his shoulder, drawing lazy circles on his bare chest.

“I hope you feel better now,” she mumbled. “Because I know I do.”

“I do,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Taking a bath together was a great idea.”

“We should do it more often,” she smiled, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You should get some sleep.”

He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her body relaxed against his, and he sighed contently, closing his own eyes and drifting away.

He didn’t remember waking up the following morning, but the sunlight streaming in through their curtains had created a weird, hazy effect. Just as he had expected, she was still lying next to him, practically glowing in the morning light.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

“You should stay,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She managed to free herself from his grasp and turned to face him, dragging her hand from his face to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You know that I have to go, but I’ll be back soon and we can pick up from where we left off.”

After one last passionate kiss, she crawled out of bed and he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she padded across the bedroom floor. She looked back to give him a flirtatious smile before closing the bathroom door. He didn’t even know where she had to go, but with a grin of his own, he flopped back onto the pillows and tossed his arm over his face, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

Until she didn’t come home.

Though their separation had been prophesied by the lady in the park, his heart was shattered and he was overcome with grief - god, the grief was unbearable. He’d lost his beautiful wife, the most important person in his life, the person he truly loved and who loved him back, unconditionally. He cried over her pale body for days, wishing that his tears would bring her back but knowing deep down that his sadness had no power in determining her fate.

But, he’d heard of someone who did have that kind of power - the god of the underworld, Hades, who had a penchant for collecting souls. If the mythology was true, then there had to be a way to find the underworld and convince Hades that Anna needed to be earthside with him. They belonged together, and there was no one - human or god - who could tell him otherwise.

He did as much research as he could, scouring books and maps, trying to figure out a way to get to the underworld - to get Anna back. He didn’t care how far he had to travel, or whether it was by land or by sea, but he had to get to her.

So he did, setting off on a long journey across the world before finally coming across the dark cave that had been described in every piece of literature he’d gotten his hands on. A discarded boat on the banks of the river attracted his attention, and he climbed in, picking up the ore in his hands and rowing towards the cave. As he rowed, the water beneath the boat changed from translucent and blue to an oily, black sludge.

When he finally descended into the dark cavern, he found that he was no longer rowing the boat, but that control of the water had been taken over by a force behind him. He turned around and there was a tall, gangly man standing at the back of the boat, guiding them through the rough waters. He could tell from first glance that the man was not human, but that was to be expected - he was going to the underworld, after all. He’d read about this particular man; a ferryman who escorted the souls of the d*ceased to the underworld, though he certainly wasn’t escorting the d*ad in this case.

The journey to the underworld was a long and dangerous one, and he knew they had reached a crucial area when a fog began to form across the sides of the cavern - souls. Everything that surrounded them was d*ad; shriveled leaves and withered trees shrouded in darkness. Finally, the boat collided with a dock and Kristoff turned around to find that the ferryman was gone. He took a deep breath before climbing out of the boat, more determined than ever to find Hades and bring his wife home.

Being surrounded by death created an unsettling, eerie feeling. Kristoff could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he wandered aimlessly through the darkness, surrounded by the foggy mist. Despite the fact that he was most definitely alone, he didn’t feel alone. He felt as if he were walking along a busy sidewalk in a major city, dodging tourists and workers, rushing to their destination.

Finally, he came upon a looming, black castle and he knew that he had made it to his own destination. With all of the determination that he could muster up, he marched toward it; through the gates, down the cobblestone path, and into the palace that belonged to the god of the underworld. Hades had a bride of his own, and together they sat in matching thrones at the end of the long hallway.

“You’re not welcome in the underworld, mortal,” Hades’ threatening voice boomed.

Kristoff was not going to take no for an answer; he hadn’t made it this far to give up. “I’m here for my wife and I refuse to leave without her.”

“You don’t get to make demands.”

“I need my wife,” he pleaded. “I can’t live without her. I won’t leave without her.”

The threatening creature moved to stand from his throne, but his wife held out her arm, which caused him to pause. She leaned toward him, her long, dark tresses moving in a fluid motion with her body. Her hand flexed over the distance between her mouth and his ear as she whispered to him. Kristoff gulped, unsure of what her actions meant, though he hoped it was an act of mercy.

When she finally pulled away, Hades mischievously narrowed his eyes. “How about we make a deal?”

“Anything,” Kristoff blurted desperately.

“You may have your wife back,” Hades offered, “But, you may not see her until you return to your realm. You will be guided by the ferryman and she'll be in your boat, and once you’ve reached the earthside, she’s yours. If you look back at her before you’ve reached the earthside, then she stays in the underworld permanently.”

“Deal,” he answered without hesitation.

When he blinked, he was back in the boat. He didn’t remember leaving the castle or walking back through the depths of the underworld. He was petrified to look anywhere but straight ahead, and when the boat started moving, he called out to her. “Anna, are you here?”

Miraculously, she responded. “Yes, honey, I’m here.”

Hearing her voice nearly caused him to combust - god, how he missed the sound of her voice. It was almost enough for him to lose control and turn around. “I need to see you.”

“Don’t turn around,” Anna begged. “If you look back at me, then I can’t come home with you. Don’t look back.”

“How can I trust that this isn’t a trick?” he cried. “I need to know that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” she promised. “Keep your eyes closed until it’s safe.”

“How will I know when it’s safe?”

“I’ll tell you. Don’t open them until I say so, okay? Promise me that you won’t open your eyes until I tell you to.”

“I promise,” he agreed, trembling from the stress. He closed his eyes, unsure of what he would do if he lost her yet again. The one thing he was certain of was that he couldn’t live without her. If he had to take drastic measures to ensure they would be together, then he would do so.

For a long time, the boat ride was quiet. In the short span of time that he’d spent in the underworld, he managed to forget how long and treacherous the journey there was. It was difficult to resist the temptation of turning around and checking to make sure that the god of death had made good on his promise, that the woman he loved was actually in the boat with him.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again. “We’re almost there, but don’t look back yet.”

“Okay,” he said, hardly able to hear her over the sound of his pounding heart.

Suddenly, a pair of arms came down around his neck, and soft lips were pressing a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t dare to open his eyes - he couldn’t risk it. If this was some kind of test or trick from the god of the underworld and he opened his eyes, she’d be gone for good.

“You can open your eyes,” she said, pressing her cheek against his. “We’re safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’re back on earth,” she assured him. “We’re here, together. I’m alive.”

“Are you sure?” he repeated, his voice strained. “Because if you’re not sure, we’re both going to end up back in the underworld.”

“Touch me,” she begged, freeing her grasp from his neck and bringing his arm up to her face. “It’s me. I’m real.”

Through his touch, he recognized her features; her perfectly smooth skin, the slope of her petite nose, and her plump, kissable lips. “It’s really you?”

“It’s me,” she confirmed with a sniffle. “You can look.”

He slowly blinked his eyes open and the first thing that he noticed was that the water beneath the boat had transformed from black sludge to clear and blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see strands of her brilliant red hair, and he heaved a sigh of relief; she was here. He hadn’t been tricked by Hades.

She climbed onto his lap and cupped his jaw with her hands before leaning her forehead against his. “You saved me.”

His arms reflexively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe; she was alive, and he was touching her, and god, she was even more gorgeous than he remembered. “Oh, Anna, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whimpered, tears cascading down her cheeks. “So much.”

He could feel a lump growing in his throat as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Good,” she sobbed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on the back of her head, and gently rubbed her back, the boat bobbing from side to side beneath them. When she finally looked up at him with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she asked, “Can we go home now?”

And then he awoke with a start - he was in their bedroom, unsure of if he had ever really left it. Was it really possible that he dreamt the entire thing? He wasn’t sure - it had felt so real.

Anna was leaning over him, brushing his hair out of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He blinked rapidly as he looked around the room, and sure enough, they were still tangled up in their sheets like they had been when they fell asleep the night before. He could feel her body pushed up against him and he knew she was real, but he couldn’t shake the nightmare that had plagued him a few moments prior.  “I don’t know...I think I had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You d*ed,” he answered shakily. “And I went to the underworld to save you.”

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows together. “Did you?”

“I did.”

“That’s good,” she smiled. “You’re a hero.”

“It felt so real, though. It was so vivid, and colorful, and...real. I don’t even know where the entire underworld thing came from - I haven’t read anything related to mythology since I was in, like, high school.”

“Our dreams don’t always make sense,” she assured him. “Last night I dreamt that I was late to take a test, which is funny because I haven’t taken a test since I was in college.”

“It’s just...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Anna, I really don’t.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that because I’m not going anywhere. And if I do die first, I’m going to come back and haunt you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” he chuckled. “I think that lady in the park yesterday really freaked me out.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get a kick out of this; there was an article about her in the local paper this morning - she got arrested for harassing people in the park. It’s not the first time she’s been arrested for it, either.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, I can even show you the article.” She moved to grab her phone, but he placed his hand over her arm, stopping her.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” he said in a low voice, diverting his eyes away from her.

“It’s really bothering you, huh?”

“A little,” he confessed with a sigh. “It’s such a scary thought.”

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled coyly before sliding her leg over his waist and pushing herself on top of him, so they were lying chest to chest. “Even if you change your mind and decide that you want to get rid of me.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I definitely don’t want to do that.”

Her lips ghosted against his as she whispered, “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

[aion-rsa]

Bo Burnham: Inside Songs Ranked from Worst to Best

https://ift.tt/2JMbiJl

The musical of the summer was supposed to be a life-affirming celebration of one of New York’s most vibrant neighborhoods, full of color, romance, and big group dance numbers. Instead for many viewers, the musical of the moment was filmed and performed by one man, alone in isolation from the comfort (or discomfort, really) of his own home, with songs centered on techno paranoia, mental health, and the fear of aging. Maybe after a year stuck in their homes, audiences could relate to the existential dread and general anxiety on display in Bo Burnham: Inside more than a conventional movie musical.

Billed as a stand-up special, Burnham’s latest musical comedy endeavor finds the former wunderkind holed up and feeling more uncomfortable than ever. Writing, editing, directing, and performing from a claustrophobic studio, Burnham’s stand-up special skews more toward being a straight-up musical, and not because the special is light on jokes and missing an audience. Rather this has all the hallmarks of a musical narrative and plays closer to experimental cinema than sketch comedy.

Burnham expresses his characters’ inner-thoughts, fears, and desires via song throughout a contained narrative, in this case the narrative being one man trying to occupy himself during a pandemic. It has ballads, charm songs, comedy numbers, “I Am” and “I Want” songs, and a big reprise. By capturing his personal pandemic experience and putting the whole affair to song, Burnham has created one of the most compelling (and catchy!) accounts of life during 2020.

To celebrate the musical that we all needed after a year in our homes, we’ve decided to rank every song from Bo Burnham: Inside. You can stream along via the Inside (The Songs) album on the streaming platform of your choice.

20. I Don’t Wanna Know

Merely an interlude, “I Don’t Wanna Know” doesn’t quite work outside of watching the special itself. However, it is a clever way to address the fact that modern audiences do not have the attention span to sit through a film at home without checking their phone or complaining about a runtime.

19. Bezos II

While certainly meant to poke fun at the real-life Lex Luthor, it’s not that fun to listen to Bezos’ name repeated. Stil, Burnham does elicit a few laughs with his over-the-top mock congratulations. “You did it!”

18. Any Day Now

A Sesame Street-like mantra that plays over the credits, “Any Day Now” suggests this could all end either hopefully soon or on a depressingly vague far-off date that will never come. We’d like to think it’s the former, but it’s safe to assume what Bo thinks.

17. All Time Low

While this number gets docked points for its short runtime, it absolutely packs a punch with its four-line, single verse. After Bo admits that his mental health is rapidly deteriorating, he describes what it’s like to have a panic attack set to a chipper ‘80s dance backbeat. Unfortunately, we don’t get to ride the wave long enough, and judging lyrics, that’s probably a good thing for Bo.

16. Content

This strong opening number musically sets the vibe for Inside, letting us know that we’re in for some synth-heavy throwback beats that would be best listened to underneath a disco ball.  Also incorporating silly backing vocals, a hallmark of many of Inside’s best tracks, Burnham declares he’s back with some sweet, sweet content. “Daddy made you your favorite,” he sings, and he ain’t wrong. 

15. Bezos I

Unlike the reprise in “Bezos II,” “Bezos I” gets by off its increasingly deranged energy, with Burnham roasting fellow tech billionaires and working himself up into a manic frenzy by song’s end. Musically, it sounds like the soundtrack to an intense boss battle on a Sega Genesis game before ending with a sick little synth solo and Burnham hilarious squawking. It’s arguably the only acceptable thing that Bezos has ever been associated with.

14. Unpaid Intern

While “Unpaid Intern” is one of Inside’s shortest tracks, it absolutely makes the most of its time. The jazzy tune scorches the exploitative nature of unpaid internships before Burnham breaks out into a laugh-out-loud worthy scat routine. It unfortunately ends too soon.

13. Shit

Inside’s funkiest jam sounds like Burnham wrote the lyrics for a new Janelle Moane album cut. Bo show’s off his vocal dexterity and plumbs the depths of his depression in a surprisingly danceable fashion. Throwing in a little faux crowd interaction helps bring home the fact that we have all felt like this at one point or another during the pandemic.

12. Sexting

This slow-jam details the complications of sexting, throwing out hilariously too-true punchlines like “the flash makes my dick look frightened.” “Sexting” feels like one of a few songs that could most easily appear on previous Burnham specials. Proving that Inside’s musical textures do not come exclusively from ’80s synth pop, the outro of the song expertly mirrors modern pop trends by throwing in some trap-influenced “yahs” at the end of Bo’s lines.

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11. How the World Works

Influenced by comedian Hans Teeuwen and children’s entertainment in general, “How the World Works” finds Burnham going back to the well by playing the ignorant, smarmy white guy who is oblivious of the real issues plaguing nonwhite Americans. What’s even better though is Socko calling Burnham out on forcing others to educate him for his own self-actualization instead of doing the work on his own for the betterment of others.

Socko pointedly asks “Why do you rich f—— white people insist on seeing every socio-political conflict through the myopic lens of your own self-actualization?” Not to keep things too heavy, the song ends with an absurdist bit where Burnham returns Socko to the nether place that he goes when he’s not attached to Burnham’s hand. Scathing and bizarre, it’s a great piece of social commentary. 

10. FaceTime With My Mom

While most of the music of Inside feels directly transported from the 1980s, “FaceTime With My Mom” seems only inspired by the past decade’s musical trends, updating the sounds in much of the same way that the Weeknd and Dua Lipa have. This is Bo Burnham as a hitmaker, and his attempt is convincing. “FaceTime With My Mom” earns easy laughs by getting to the seemingly specific, yet universal things that all our moms do over video chat. 

9. Goodbye

Every good musical needs a good closing track, and Burnham nails it with “Goodbye,” pulling off a reprise that weaves in many of the special’s signature musical moments and touches on the special’s core themes. A forlorn piano ballad before it soars through Inside’s best motifs, “Goodbye” caps a triumphant musical achievement, coming back to “Look Who’s Inside Again” just to punch you in the gut one last time. 

8. Problematic

Addressing his past work and some aspects that have not aged well, while also skewering celebrity apologies, “Problematic” is self-aware critique by way of an ‘80s workout bop. From the specific Aladdin confession to the overall apology for being “vaguely shitty,” Bo has never made accountability sound so good.

7. That Funny Feeling

This is Bo Burnham’s version of Father John Misty’s “Holy Shit,” a laundry list of all the stupid things that are signaling the fall of culture and civilization as we know it. If Misty hadn’t gotten there first, we may have had this one ranked higher. Still, Burnham manages to come up with a sticky chorus that you’ll be humming the next time something makes you feel like you’re living in the uncanny valley.

6. White Woman’s Instagram

Perhaps the special’s most playful moment, “White Woman’s Instagram” uses the musical cues of an inspiring empowerment anthem to poke fun at the predictably, perfectly curated feed of a “girl boss” Instagram. The song is greatly enhanced by the accompanying visuals, which find Bo recreating the meticulously staged and glamorous portraits that women pass off as their everyday lives.

However, Bo always likes to sneak in some sentimentality, and imagines a genuinely heartfelt post to his white woman character’s deceased mother. Don’t worry, the emotional moment doesn’t overstay its welcome, and we’re soon back to laughing at horribly derivative political street art.

5. All Eyes on Me

The droning synth and pitch-down vocals make “All Eyes On Me” oddly hypnotic and beautiful. The song seems to be addressing Bo’s depression along with his need for validation and attention, a juxtaposition that many performers deal with. It becomes clear that Burnham isn’t addressing an invisible audience, but himself, trying to will himself up and out of his dreary mental state.

4.  Look Who’s Inside Again

A classic “I Am” musical song, “Look Who’s Inside Again” just may be Inside’s most emotionally resonant track that seems to hit closest to who Bo Burnham was and who he is today. This is the song that I will most likely regret the most for ranking so low.

“Well, well, look who’s inside again. Went out to look for a reason to hide again,” perfectly describes the cycle of depression and will, for me, be the special’s most lasting moment. The downbeat ending “come out with your hands up, we’ve got you surrounded” is heartbreaking enough to send a shudder down your spine.

3. Comedy

The special’s real first number is absolutely packed with hooks, from the “Call me and I’ll tell you a joke” bridge to the “Should I be joking at a time like this?” change-up. This is Bo really flexing how far he’s come as a musician, expertly utilizing autotune and a key change (us “stupid motherf***ers” can’t resist them).

“Comedy” also finds Bo comfortably in the lane that we’re most used to seeing him in, playing the egomaniacal white messiah with a wink. “Comedy” is the tone-setter and it’s so good that it lets you know that you’re in good hands for the next hour plus.

2. 30

Either I’m ranking this song too highly due to its personally relatable nature or the fact that I haven’t been able to get “All my stupid friends are having stupid children” out of my head, but I really don’t care. “30” is Inside’s biggest earworm and addresses the existential terror that comes with no longer getting pats on the back for being a young wunderkind.

“30” also examines generational differences, showing how 30 year-old people are more infantile than ever. However, at the end of the day it all comes back to those shimmering keys and that irresistible refrain. Apologies to my friends with children.

1. Welcome to the Internet

No matter how deep and emotionally rich some of Inside’s other tracks may be, “Welcome to the Internet” is the one that will live on the longest. If this were a traditional musical, this would the antagonists’ showstopper; a vaudevillian romp through the alluring chaos that is the internet. Speeding up and slowing down the pace to mirror the manic, addictive nature of surfing the net, Burnham pitches the negative aspects of online culture as they are: a feature, not a bug. Promising “a little bit of everything all of the time,” “Welcome to the Internet” is almost as enticing as the dark tool itself.

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[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 11/17

Hey everyone! I’m going out tonight so I’m going to post this earlier than normal. I hope you all enjoy! 

Also, I probably shouldn’t drop this... but I have may be working on a new story for the summer... *wink wink* you’ll have to wait to see! 

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock didn’t like to let go of things. He had a rigid way of thinking, and he didn’t like to change it.

This was especially true for clothes. When he’d been heavier, he never wanted to wear things that clung to tight to his body. The pudge under his arms needed to be covered, jeans were worn a size bigger on purpose, and a sweatshirt was a part of 80% of his outfits. He liked being comfortable in his clothes, which sometimes presented him as ‘frumpy’. On the occasions that he’d feel a little bold, such as anniversaries or parties, Brock might try to wear a piece that had started to collect dust from lack of use. It was never big, just pants that fit snugly over his thighs or a shirt he could feel press against his chest when he moved. His ex never really said anything about the changes, which made him rarely put in the effort. By the end of their relationship, he barely even opened his closet. 

Now, Brock tried not to hide in his closet while staring at the clothes he was wearing. Craig had picked out his outfit earlier when they shopped for something Brock would be able to wear to Tyler’s birthday party. If the two were invited to their gym owner’s party months ago, it would have felt strange. Now, the gym workers were a part of their weird group of friends. Scotty and Marcel got along like a house on fire, and Brock could already see Craig’s wheels turning. Ryan, a more reserved science teacher from Brock’s school, had so far avoided Mini’s cupid skills, trying to push through his shy persona to adapt to the large group. Anthony was quick to shove him under his arm and ‘show him’ things, which Brock monitored closely. But from Luke’s scolding looks at Anthony when the joyous man tried to feed Ryan another shot at their last hang out, it seemed Brock wasn’t the only one looking out for his co-worker. 

Now the whole group was going to celebrate Tyler’s birthday together, and Brock wasn’t sure how to feel about his new look. The brown cardigan was useful in showing how the lean muscles in his arms had started to define themselves. A simple white shirt laid under it, but with how close it was to his body, Brock felt mixed about the choice. It didn’t look bad, because he’d been working on slimming down his stomach, but his hands kept tugging at the shirt. The jeans that he’d somehow managed to slip into (and that part had been really surprising to him) weren’t uncomfortable, but they were tight. It was out of his normal style, falling around his hips rather than over his stomach. He couldn’t pull them up, because that was where they were supposed to fall. And the outfit itself wasn’t bad; Brock was just unsure if he looked good in it. 

“Brock? What’s going on? We need to meet Tyler and Brian in ten minutes at the gym or we’re gonna be late!” Craig’s hand pounded on the door, showing that the little amount of patience his anxious friend had located was well beyond gone. 

“Uh, coming.” Even after he gave the answer, it took Brock two minutes to compose himself and open the door of his room. Craig’s eyes showed his irritation better than his pout, but he seemed distracted when he looked over Brock’s attire with a nod. 

“You look like a completely different person when you wear clothes that actually fit you. I’d pick you up at a bar.”

“My other clothes fit me,” Brock protested, but he knew what Mini was talking about. In the new clothes, Brock couldn’t hide himself in a lumpy sweaters and overwashed shirts. Craig arched an eyebrow at the rebuttal, but his attention was drawn to the cellphone that chirped loudly from his pocket. A quick glance to the screen was all Mini needed before he turned away, looking more than eager to get to the man on the other side of the phone. 

“I can’t wait to see Brian’s jaw hit the floor when he sees you.” 

“He’s seen me outside of the gym before.” 

“But not like this.” Brock wanted to argue it when he moved into Mini’s car, but for the first time in… well, maybe his whole life, Brock hesitated. Because was it really so bad to recognize how far he’d come in his journey? His body was starting to shift in a way he hadn’t seen in years. The physical changes were nice, and since his breakdown in the locker room (it’d been weeks ago, but the residual embarrassment still lingered when he hung out with Brian or Scotty), Brock had actually started to heal. He unfriended his ex, knowing that keeping his social media in his life would only make the wound deeper. He’d managed to go out with his friends more outside of work and fully focus on his gym routine again. Though he wasn’t fully ‘okay’, a word he’d stopped using the moment Brian made it clear he’d be accepted either way, he was getting there. Support from his friends, family, and the gym as a whole was helping him put all the pieces back again. In truth, maybe Craig was right. Maybe he was looking different than he ever had before. 

But thinking Brian would notice it wasn’t something he could believe in just yet.

“He sees me at the gym all the time in less.” The droll stare he got from Craig when they stopped at a light made him fidget in his seat. 

“Okay, I am too anxious and not drunk enough to deal with your self-loathing, Hamlet. You wanna play this game? Then let’s make a bet.” 

“What kind of bet?” He was wary because he’d seen some of Mini’s mischief before, and rarely did it turn out well for the other in the deal. But Craig looked less manic than normal, and Brock wondered if it was because he was focused on making Tyler’s birthday a pleasant experience. It was saddening to hear that the gym owner had never had a birthday event he enjoyed, citing family drama or backstabbing friends from the past as key factors in his displeasure of the holiday. Mini had proclaimed that this time would be ‘different’, with Tyler sneering with enough sass to show how little he believed in that comment. 

“If Brian doesn’t say something about how amazing you look the first sixty seconds we meet up with them, I’ll buy you a drink at dinner. But, if he does, then you gotta buy me one.” Craig’s little bet wasn’t too extreme, as both knew they’d be drinking during the party. And really, he wouldn’t mind a free drink. His eyes glanced to the gym as Mini pulled into the parking lot, head already nodding at the deal. 

“Okay, that sounds fair.” 

“Maybe to my wallet.” Craig’s mutter wasn’t answered by Brock when he stepped from the car, already seeing two figures waiting by the entrance of the gym. It was shut down an hour ago in preparation for the celebration despite Tyler grumbling about losing revenue. His smile was quick to pop over his face when catching Brian’s gaze, waving in hope of hiding the nervous energy flooding his fingertips. He took the bet thinking he’d win, but the smallest part of his hoped that somehow-

“Holy shit.” 

“Huh?” Brock stopped at the quiet words that spilled from Brian’s mouth, unsure how to take the way his eyes travelled down Brock’s body. Craig had done a similar tactic earlier, but having Brian be the one to look him over made his ears flush and his breath catch. Brain cells refused to function, leaving him helpless to break the silence that had settled after the swear. When blue caught his stare again, his heart somersaulted through his chest, landing perfectly in the bottom of his stomach. Brock felt good about himself, but Brian was a trainer; obviously he’d seen people of all shapes and sizes. He was meant to spot people’s needs for fitness. There was no guarantee that his eyes weren’t picking up the stubborn pinch of fat on Brock’s hip or the chubby cheeks that always looked bigger when flushed. Or what if he caught something else that had nothing to do with weight? What if Brock’s eyes were too close together or his nose had a weird round tilt that could- 

“You look amazing.” There was a caress in the compliment that weaved along Brock’s spine like a touch, warm and full of care with each additional word. “This is a really good look on you. Brings out your eyes and- wow. Yeah, really knocking it out of the park with this, Brocky.”

“Oh, um, thank you. You too, uh...” His fingers tugged at the edge of his sleeve when tugging it over his knuckles, unsure how he was supposed to take so much praise without melting into the concerte. His brain was soaked in endorphins to the point that he couldn’t point out how the navy coloring of Brian’s shirt made his eyes burst with color. He wanted to return the compliments, to admit that the black jeans made his frame look perfect, yet the words dried up in his mouth before he could open it. He hoped his smile would give away some of his thoughts, and from the easy grin Brian gave back when hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, it had. The motion framed his hands along the inside of his thighs, and Brock’s mind dived too far south not to duck his head and mentally curse. 

“Yeah, so I’m going to count this eye fucking as a win.” Craig’s voice made Brock’s heels pop off the ground in fright, glancing over to his friend’s smirk. He was smug elbowing Tyler, who looked a mixture of annoyed and pleased at the close proximity. “Brock owes me a drink now. Thought Brian wouldn’t think he was hot.” 

“Brian thinks he’s hot when he smells like shit and looks like a firetruck dipped in a bloody mary. For a smart guy, your friend’s fucking stupid.” Tyler’s grumble was sharp, but didn’t match the softer motion of his arm when Mini burrowed underneath it to press to his side. The fact that he didn’t push Craig away was surprising, his large hand even finding a home on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Now lets get this shit over with so I can get away from you weirdos.” 

Tyler really was a weird enigma.

“Right, on to the party for my free drink!” Mini’s cheer was loud in the empty parking lot when leading Tyler to the car, and Brock shook his head at their weird combo until a familiar tone cleared his throat next to Brock.

“You ready to go?” Brian’s hand was offered without expectation, and his face gave none of his intentions behind the sign of affection away. Brock’s fingers moved nervously by his side and he glanced down at the palm, knowing any chance of hiding how gone he was for Brian would be lost with his trembling fingers. Even with his past relationships, he wasn’t a big hand holder, knowing his sweaty palms and twitches could be annoying to those he dated. He bit his lip when weighing his options, glancing up to Brian and stopping at the sight. The nervous flicker of hope that peeked out from behind his eyes was small, but still visible for someone looking for him. Someone who was feeling the same way. 

“Yeah.” Brock grabbed his hand slowly, noticing how easily his fingers parted to slip between Brian’s. The touch made goosebumps rise on Brock’s arms, and he was grateful the cardigan would hide the reaction from Brian’s watchful gaze. He gave Brian’s palm a soft squeeze, not pulling away when the other laughed and gently guided them toward the car.   

Brock liked his old habits, but he liked Brian’s palm against his so much more.

Brock needs all of the love! And good thing hes got Mini and Brian, eh? So as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3 

[hellimagines]

Starlight Saviour (Chapter One) -- Billy Hargrove

*My masterlist link can be found in my blog description*

Summary: Being Steve Harrington’s younger sister and the notorious girlfriend of Billy Hargrove is hell. Especially when your boyfriend becomes infected and you’re the only one willing to step between him and the monster.

Warnings: blood and gore, angst

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Harrington!reader

Word Count: 2,800+

A/N: This is based entirely on the trailers we’ve seen, and has nothing to do with the actual outcome of ST3 (sadly). So, when the new season does drop, RIP Billy and RIP this piece of work whOOPS. Also, if your name is crossed out in the taglist, that means I am unable to tag you and you need to fix it before the next update, or else you’ll be removed from the tags. Thank you, and I hope you guys enjoy this!

Outside, the pitch-black night sky encased you and Billy as the Camaro drove steadily down the backroads. Home Sweet Home by Motley Crue whispered from the stereo, but you and Billy singing along managed to outpower Vince Neil’s voice completely. Billy drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping your calf, keeping you safe as you dangled out of the passenger side window. He kept the car slow, no more than 30 miles, and his grip on you would tighten at the slightest bump or turn. Your arms were flung out behind you, body teetering dangerously close to falling as you leaned back, with your head tilted towards the sky so you could admire the stars. The light pollution had been horrible this summer with the new mall having been built and the fair now in town. The only way to actually see the stars anymore was to go deep in the woods (where you knew not to go anymore) or driving the backroads. Billy knew how much you enjoyed seeing the moon and the stars, and he decided to take you out for the night- ultimately forgoing your original plan of meeting up with Steve and the kids at the fair.

Two quick taps on your leg brought your attention back to the car. “C’mon, star, it’s cold as hell,” Billy griped, giving a full-body shiver for supposed dramatic effect. Rolling your eyes at the nickname while a smile played at your lips, you dutifully slid back inside the car and rolled up the window. You were only wearing a pair of black, high-waisted shorts and one of Billy’s ragged band-tees, and yet you still hadn’t managed a single shiver.

“It is not, you big baby.” Despite your scoff, you reached over to turn up the heat and face it towards your shivering boyfriend. “Thank you for bringing me out here, though, it’s so nice,” you sighed softly, kicking your converse-clad feet onto his dashboard, and turning your body to rest your forehead against his shoulder. You almost pulled away, however, because of how cold his bare skin was. But, you brushed it off as Billy not having the same adrenaline as you did at the moment, and that you’d cool down soon enough, too.

“Mm, yeah, babe, ‘course,” he mumbled, his words slurred together and causing you immediate alarm at the sudden change.

You sat up quickly and turned to look at him, ready to berate him for any alcohol he may have had, but the words immediately died on your tongue. Billy was white-knuckling the steering wheel, and even though his words were slurred and his voice wasn’t all there, his eyes were wide and almost manic. They kept flicking from the rearview mirror (looking at something that you couldn’t see), to you, and back to the road, but his focus seemed to be on whatever was in the back. Turning around, you tried to spot whatever he was looking at- maybe a rogue car chasing you down or a bra you’d left in the backseat, but there was nothing there. Just darkness.

You turned back to him and placed a careful hand on his cold shoulder. “Billy? You alright, handsome?”

A smirk lifted at his lips, but he didn’t look to you. “I’m fucking perfect, baby, why’d you ask?” Billy’s voice was now much darker and throatier, giving you whiplash from the way he’d spoken just moments before. The familiar sound of the engine revving hit your ears, drowning out your song on the radio and filling your blood with ice.

Your eyes flicked to the speedometer, “You’re going too fast, you’ve gotta slow down.”

“It’s alright, baby, you know I’ve got control,” Billy chuckled, reaching out a hand to pet your cheek. You allowed him to, but you couldn’t keep the panic out of your eyes as you held onto his hand.

You urged, “Billy, please, slow the fuck down. You promised you wouldn’t start this shit up again. I know it’s an empty road, but please just slow down.” Billy laughed at your words and shook his head, thumbing your cheek. “If you don’t slow down, we’re gonna have a real fucking problem,” you seethed, losing the caring and concerned attitude, replacing it with panic and fear. Whatever Billy was going through you could deal with later, after the possibility of an impending crash was off the table.

“Baby,” he cooed, “don’t worry.” Billy lifted his head to look at you, and instead of being met with his beautiful ocean-blue eyes, you were now face-to-face with monsterish-green irises and black veins creeping in the whites of his eyes.

“Fuck-”

Just as you began to reach out, pleading silently with yourself that, ‘no, it can’t be back, El destroyed it, it’s fucking dead,’ something struck the driver’s side windshield, instantly shattering the glass and causing shards to spray everywhere. Billy jumped, not expecting the sudden collision, and the car moved with him, swerving you guys into an uncontrollable circle. You cried out, reaching to try and hold onto Billy’s arm in an effort to keep yourself grounded, but it was fruitless. The Camaro slid across the dry dirt and slammed into the side of one of the trees lining the road before you were able to hold onto anything. Since you weren’t wearing a seatbelt and you had been angled so awkwardly prior to the crash, you were thrown backward causing your head, shoulders, and back to collide painfully with the passenger-side window. If the tree hadn’t been pressed so tightly against the miraculously unbroken window, you were positive that it, too, would’ve shattered. Instead, your body slid down the door, a trail of blood smeared across the window in your wake. You could tell there were shards of glass embedded in your forehead, mainly because of the blood dripping into your right eye and obscuring your vision- but with the pain ricocheting across your right side, you figured that there had to be more. The crash had thrown your body to the floor, squished painfully between the passenger seat and the dashboard.

Slowly, you lifted your head, looking to see if your boyfriend was alright. “Billy,” you choked out, trying to blink away the blood and tears to get a better look and make sure he was safe and uninjured. The blond didn’t move at first, staying slouched over the steering wheel with his hands limp at his side. The car was still on and running, and the vibrations and the music didn’t feel right- like all of this was supposed to be much worse than it actually was. Whimpering in pain, you reached out your right arm and gripped the keys, turning off the ignition with a quiet groan. Your arm was littered with glass from your shoulder down to your wrist, and streams of blood fell into the palm of your hand, creating a bloody-red lake that eventually emptied through your fingers. Silence fell over the car with the radio and the engine now shut off, and all you could do was sit there and try to figure out, ‘what the fuck just happened?’.

Tired of the silence, you tried again, “Billy- babe!” And this time, he shifted. But Billy didn’t groan in pain or make any indication that he had been hurt. He simply sat up and straightened himself out, before opening the door and leaving the car. Not a single glance was spared your way, even as you tried to call out to him again. Confusion masked the pain on your face as you watched your boyfriend walk away from you and his car. Now that he was under the illumination of an isolated streetlight, you could see the all-too-familiar faint, black veins creeping up his arms and crawling up his neck, fading into the skin by his eyes and his forehead. It wasn’t Billy, you could no longer deny that, but Billy was still there, still fighting just like Will had all those months ago, and you had to do something to get him back to you.

Even though your entire body ached and your mind was whirring with endless catastrophic possibilities, you still managed to brace yourself against the seat and the dashboard, pushing to try and get off the floor. With a groan of agony, you managed to push yourself up, your arms shaking with how weak you felt. Your right arm nearly gave out against the dashboard, but with a final spurt of energy, you were finally able to throw yourself back into the passenger seat. Squinting against the streetlight now blinding your vision, you were hardly able to decipher the decaying Brimborn Steel Works sign against the rotting wood of the warehouse you had crashed near. Brimborn had shut down years ago, a short while after the war, when Hawkins Lab took over and the factory work shifted to a close. Now, not many people knew it existed let alone where it was located due to its isolation. You were shocked that Billy did, having only been in Hawkins for less than a year, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why he would know. None of it made sense: the split-second character change, the crash, Billy walking away, and now this- but the detective work would have to wait because Billy was getting closer to the mill and farther away from you. With a deep breath, you climbed over the console and into the driver’s seat before stumbling out of the car and falling to your knees beside the tire.

“Goddamnit- Billy!” you finally screeched, just wanting him to hear you. “Billy, for fuck's sake! Just stop for a second!”

And he did. The monster paused, one leg out in front of him in anticipation for the next step that never came. His head tilted to the side as if waiting for you to say something else, but he didn’t turn to look at you or make any noise.

You whimpered and tried to push yourself to your feet, “Billy, just-” Your legs gave out, sending you face-first into the ground,  and you screamed in pure frustration. Lifting your head and spitting out blood and dirt, you looked towards your boyfriend for any sign that he was still there. “Don’t fall. Please, babe, don’t fall,” you whispered, unsure if he could even hear you.

But then he was turning to look at you, and even though his eyes still weren’t his, the black veins had melted into his skin, giving you a false sense of comfort. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him safe.” The voice, not belonging to Billy, was deep and throaty, just like you’d heard in the car. “He needs me, just like I need him. He’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, can’t-”

A scream, so painful it made your heart ache, erupted from Billy’s mouth. His hands flew to clutch at his mess of curls before he began shaking his head fervently. “No! No, you can’t fucking touch her! Not her!” Billy, true Billy, cried out, doubling over in the fight against himself. “F-uck off!”

Your heart leaped into your throat at his cries of anguish, and you began to crawl forward, digging your fingers into the dirt for leverage. “Don’t fall, Billy, don’t fall,” you repeated to yourself, desperately trying to get to your feet in your haste to reach him. But the right side of your body was still bleeding, and you were positive one of your ankles was fucked from the crash. So each attempt only got you a couple of inches closer before you were back on your knees, clawing at the dirt.

Ahead of you, Billy was repeating his own mantra of, ‘not her, not her, not her’ and he seemed to be negotiating with whatever was inside him. ‘The Mindflayer,’ you reminded yourself, narrowing your eyes at the memory of last fall. The Mindflayer must’ve said something to appease Billy and calm him down for at least a second, enough time for the monster to take over again. The monster stopped pulling at his hair and he straightened out, looking back down at you with those foreign, green eyes.

He didn’t say anything for a while, silence encasing both of you as you stared the other down. Will managed to fight this thing off with the love and support of his family and his friends, but Billy… Billy only had you. You loved him more than the stars, but with the look the Mindflayer was giving you, you knew it was going to take more than that to bring him home. He seemed to be waiting for you, whether to follow, retreat, or fight, neither of you knew. But with the hope that Billy was still in there, still fighting, you managed to push yourself to your feet, swaying unsteadily with the knowledge that this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“You’ll be safe. Once this is over. I will not hurt you, and neither will he-”

“Of course Billy won’t hurt me, I’m not an idiot,” you spat, interrupting the demonic voice coming from your boyfriend. The monster’s eyebrows rose, but he made no move to retaliate. “Why? Why are you doing this to him?”

“I didn’t choose him if that’s what you’re implying. I was given to him and gifted with all his pain that will help me thrive- help us survive,” the Mindflayer answered, taking a couple of steps forward. You didn’t move away, allowing the monster to get closer to you.

“How? Who did this to him? Who betrayed him and gave him you?” you asked, refusing to flinch when his hand came to stroke your cheek.

“Injection. That’s all it took. I am a virus, I can live anywhere.”

A memory flashed in your mind; Billy and Steve fighting, Max jumping on to Billy before injecting him with the same sedative that had been given to Will- with the same needle. “You don’t like the heat, though. It hurts you,” you whispered, grasping for anything to help you save Billy. Regardless, your eyes widened at the fact that the monster had been there for months, living alongside you and Billy in peace.

“It hurts us, now. Whatever you do to me, is done to him, baby. You mustn’t forget,” the monster said, gently running his thumb over your cheek to wipe away a stray tear that had mixed with your blood. He was taking Billy’s demand to heart and you hated it.

“Don’t call me that,” you growled, resisting the urge to swat away his hand. It wasn’t Billy, but you couldn’t piss off the Mindflayer without Billy receiving those repercussions. Besides, if you closed your eyes just right, his touch felt just like Billy, just colder.

“He would have been the perfect host. Broken, lost, all the pain… He wasn’t supposed to have a light, a star. He wasn’t supposed to break free just to keep you safe. But I can work around you. Your love won’t be enough to stop me this time. I’ve been here, in his head, I know what he thinks and what the others think of him. You’re the only one that cares about him. Neil, Susan, Max- nobody cares about him. Nobody else will help you.” Your breath hitched at his words because he was right and you both fucking knew it. “It’s just the three of us now, and it will be once we end everything. It’s what he deserves, it’s what I deserve.”

The Mindflayer let go of your cheek with your blood staining his palm as he turned away from you. No other words were spoken as he retreated into the mill, but a lone rat squeaked past your shoes, scurrying ahead of the monster and into Brimborn. You wanted to chase after him, you wanted to plead with the monster to let him go, to take you instead, but you knew he wouldn’t. The Mindflayer had adapted to Billy’s strengths and weaknesses, and the bond they now forcefully shared wouldn’t be given up easily. So, with your heart cracking, all you could do was watch as Billy disappeared into Brimborn.

—

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[luccislegs]

Can I have a scenario where Luffy and his s/o are hanging out someplace and some guy starts flirting with and making his s/o uncomfortable so Luffy has to step in. Not because she’s weak or head jealous (though if you want that can be a factor jealous Luffy is my jam!) but she’s too nice to tell him to take a hike. Also; side note; keep up the amazing work I just found your blog today and I really love it so far! Glad to have another one piece blog for me to binge read!

i combined these two bc they asked for pretty much the same thing. in other news, i love jealous!anyone tbh but my favorite is absolutely when they do something to unintentionally make their partner jealous then they make it up to you, generally by blatantly expressing their affections. another trope i like but am kind of ashamed of is ‘established relationships’ with rival inserted so partner is jealous, bc it’s almost always a woman that is the rival and it just feels really…i dunno, misogynistic? like if i write it i turn it around to be a huge misunderstanding bc i don’t want tear downs, yk? i’m rambling anyway enjoy!

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“Oh, excuse me,” you said, moving down the bar for the fourth time. You were patiently waiting on the bartender, who was currently swamped with requests. He had been polite enough to acknowledge you, and you were understanding, so you had settled down on a bar stool to wait.

That hadn’t lasted long, and you were soon set upon by a few different men. Each of them had been turned down, in as nice a way as you could muster, but one in particular had made you uncomfortable. His leer and the look in his eyes said he wasn’t going to be deterred so easily, and it proved true when he came back ten minutes later and sat down next to you.

You hopped down, pretending you were going to chase the bartender, only for him to skulk along after you. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it, either, he was openly stalking you.

You were actually beginning to be afraid that he would follow you out of the bar and kidnap you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself, but even he seemed a little out of your league. Your best hope was probably to get back to the safety of the group.

As you turned to the crowd, a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged. You opened your mouth to scream, or yell, or curse, but then the smiling face of your captain was in yours.“Oh, thank god, Luffy,” you said, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder.

He snickered and patted the back of your head. “We were getting worried since you were taking so long.”

“The bar is packed and service is slow, so I’m just stuck waiting,” you said, feeling overwhelmed with relief that he was here now.

But as quick as it came, it was snuffed out when Luffy nodded and turned back to the crowd. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it. Gotta let the others know!”

Typical of Luffy, when you really needed him to pay attention the most, he was running on one brain cell. By the skin of your teeth, you managed to snag the back of his shirt before he could be swallowed by the crowd.

“Luffy wait, please,” you said, and he turned then, his eyes a bit sharper as he picked up on the note of panic in your voice. His gaze snapped to the man hovering behind you, finally realizing just how close he was and that he may have been paying a bit too much attention to the two of you. “I don’t want to start a fight, please don’t flip out,” you said when you recognized the manic glint in his eyes.

“Sure, _____, so long as he stays back,” Luffy said, wrapping his arm tight around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. His stare was still fixed on the man by the bar, who was now watching with open contempt but made no attempt to instigate.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you said, giving him a relieved side hug. The tension was almost palpable, but after a few minutes the man sidled off, throwing glares over his shoulder at the two of you. Robin and Sanji came to look for you at one point, but were quick to leave once they saw the crowded bar.

It took another fifteen minutes before you finally got your order, which Luffy was happy to point out in a whiny tone, but that was thrown to the wind in the face of all the food that now sat in front of him. The rest of the night, Luffy never let you go to the bar alone, and the whole crew was almost falling over by the time you left to go back to the ship.

This would have been funny if you hadn’t been feeling like someone was following you the whole time. More than once, you turned around to scope out behind you because, though your crew mates were being loud, in the lulls where they quieted down you were sure you heard muttering and footsteps. Hurrying to catch up to the others, you tugged on Zoro’s sleeve.

Before you could say a word, he was already nodding. “I know they’re back there.”

That was all you needed to hear, and you nodded before you moved off to Luffy’s side. You should probably have told him about it, since he was probably the only one unaware of your shadows, but he would try to pick a fight right there in the alleyway. It was more prudent to wait until you were in a more open area, plus Zoro knew what he was doing. Maybe not where he was going, but other than that you trusted him.

You linked your fingers with Luffy’s, and he grinned down at you, swinging your arm enthusiastically while he whistled. The shuffling behind you grew more obvious, coming closer and they were starting to sound aggressive.In another few steps, the alley opened out onto the port leading down to the docks, and they decided to make their move.

“You, Strawhat! I have a bone to pick with you.” As you had suspected, it was the man from the bar, and he had friends. You had thought that Luffy’s presence had scared him off, but he appeared to have kept drinking, and that had given him a dangerous amount of courage.

Luffy turned around and looked, releasing your hand in the process. “Hey, you’re that stalker from the bar! What are you doing here?” He stepped in front of you, shielding you as if the man was going to steal you from a distance.

There was a rattle of swords, and Zoro started to step forward, but Luffy’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Leave him to me. He was harrassing _____ at the bar, and now he’s followed her all the way to the ship, so I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Zoro’s eyes widened but he smirked and stepped down, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

“This’ll only take a moment,” Luffy said darkly, rolling his shoulder.‘A moment’ turned out to be five minutes, and all of the rival crew members were laid out unconscious all along the sidewalk. “Now you better leave my _____ alone now, or I’ll kick your ass harder next time!” Luffy yelled at them before he jumped down to join you next to the ship.

“Jeez, Luffy,” Zoro said, staring at you with a mischievous smirk, “I didn’t know you could get so jealous.”

Luffy puffed his chest out and huffed, wrapping his arms tight around you as he said, “Yeah. Anyone tries to take _____ from me and I’ll whoop their asses! She’s mine!”

Coming from anyone else, that statement would have made your skin crawl but from Luffy, it was a comfort. “Thanks, captain.”

He grinned, rubbing his face all over yours before he stopped with his nose against yours. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks the longer he stared without blinking, until finally you felt his lips against yours.

“You’re so cute when you blush, _____,” he said when he pulled away. “Let’s go to bed, I’m tired.”

–

god i still don’t know if i like the direction this went, plus i’ve been putting a lot of energy into my fics so it’s taking attention from these. i hope you still like it, though!