#i was out of internet so i could only trust my gut so ill look some interrogation techiniques properly

[cepheusgalaxy]

o-kay, remember when i said day 10 was going to be the longest piece ever because it was 4 (i actually mean three, its three pages long) pages long? hahaha funny story

[tainted-wine]

Tuning In Tonight

Present Mic x Reader (NSFW)

(A 10k story because I have no self-control. Here’s a fic about a troubled cafe employee that turns into a Mic fan and later SEX)  

You soaked in the heat of your apartment after enduring the chilly walk back home from work. Wasting no time, you tossed your coat aside and kicked off your shoes before plopping onto the bed. Another week, another paycheck. Today was exceptionally busy at the cafe. Fridays always were, really, but today had put you to the test against quite the cast of characters. But even in the face of screaming kids with careless mothers, business people with absolutely no patience, and teens that didn’t think you were worth making eye contact with, you prevailed. You liked your job, even with the odd rough days. The staff was kind, the pay was fair, and the fact that it was smack-dab in the middle of the city means that it was visited by the occasional hero. Those were the days that filled you with joy, taking you back to the times when you dreamed of having the same career. But some things just weren’t meant to be. Your younger, more passionate self would chide you for accepting this life. For not using every breath in your body to ensure that you would one day become a hero that everyone remembered, but such persistence would only hurt you more in the long run. At least you were still able to find a comfortable living elsewhere. You settled with the cards you were dealt just fine, and yet that’s exactly what bothers you. Is it really okay to just give up and settle this after trying so hard? 'Nope, my mind’s not going anywhere near that rabbit hole today.' You sprang back up, heading to your room with extra pep in your step to undress and prepare a shower. The hot water soothed your tense body and cleared your mess of a mind. There was no room for any negative thoughts on a Friday night, the nights that you always look forward to the most, because it was time for the weekly radio show hosted by the lively pro hero Present Mic.

Your first experience with the show happened months ago, during a day where you were feeling extra exhausted for no particular reason. Turning on your old radio to lift your spirits, you happened to tune in just in time for the voice hero’s live caller segment. ‘Why not?’ you thought to yourself as you dialed the station's number and patiently listened to the rings. “Hey, thanks for calling, my dear listener! Hope you’ve been having a rockin’ day today!” There was something about having such an energetic and carefree voice directed to you that just brightened you up from inside. The conversation didn’t last very long, your sudden shyness being part of the reason why. It ended with you honoring the usual routine of requesting a song before disconnecting. As short as the encounter was, it left a strong impression, and you wanted it to happen again. Just like that, you became a loyal fan of Put Your Hands Up! radio. It was a great way to end work for the week, winding down and getting ready for the weekend as the station played a wide variety of tunes. And every time Mic was ready to take calls, your phone was ready to dial. You talked about whatever came to mind—how work was treating you, discussing his latest accomplishments as a pro hero, sharing silly events the two of you had in life. Whatever you discussed, no matter how mundane the topic, Mic always sounded eager to listen and respond with the boisterous voice he was known for. Even on the nights where you felt especially drained or under the weather, his unwavering enthusiasm never failed to clear the dark clouds over your head. In short, he was a lovable guy. So you relaxed and killed some time with the help of the internet and some phone games until that special hour arrived. You turned to the station and was greeted with the loud intro that took some getting used to. “Yeeeaaaahh! Present Mic here, and thank you for tuning in to Put Your Hands Up! Are they up? Because we’re about to get started!” And so begins the music that you swear is just a playlist of the hero’s personal favorites. You laid back on your bed and let your mind drift as the songs played. Your friends plan on meeting up for a movie tomorrow; can’t miss out on that. Maybe you’ll stop by the store afterwards so you can restock your fridge. What should you do Sunday? Meh, just make it a lazy day and hang around at home, you suppose. You returned to your phone and continued scrolling through your favorite websites. Time went by quicker than expected, Mic’s announcement of taking calls catching you by surprise. The first few calls were picked up by other listeners, doing the usual routine of sharing their day or talking about recent issues. Mic gave advice wherever he could, and his desire to help anyone who was willing to reach out to him felt so damn genuine that it made you smile. Another call was picked up before yours. Oh well. You listened to what ended up being a youthful male on the line. “H-hi, Mr. Present Mic!” The nervous yet excited voice was pretty heartwarming. A young teen, most likely.

Mic laughed. “No need for the ‘mister,’ listener! You’ll make me feel old!”

A bunch of frantic stuttering could be heard from the boy. “Ah, so sorry, sir—I mean mister—I mean Mic!” You giggled along with Mic as the poor boy tried to collect himself. “Deep breaths, little listener. What’s on that speedy little mind tonight?” “Well,” the boy had finally steadied himself. “I’ll be finishing middle school soon, and I’m ready to start training to be a hero. I just really hope I can get into U.A. and meet you! I wish you could be my English teacher!”

Awww. “Shucks, little guy. First, good job on finishing up middle school. I hope your parents have a rockin’ party ready for you! Second, you’ve got guts for aiming for the highest! Make sure you study and prepare, 'cause U.A. only accepts the best!” There was a pause on the other end. “So, is there a chance that I won’t make it?" “My little listener,” you could tell that there was a gentle expression on Mic’s face as he spoke. “There’s always a chance, so I want you to promise me one thing. If that chance hits you, don’t give up on your dream. Get the most out of whichever school accepts you. You know how many amazing heroes I met who came from schools with pretty lame reputations? There’s a lot of them, trust me. I’ve also met my share of cocky young heroes who rag on others just because they don’t have the fancy brand of U.A. or Shiketsu on their resume. That’s all it is, kid. A brand. Just because you couldn’t strike a deal with a major record label doesn’t mean your music career is already dead.” “Music?” the boy said in confusion. “But I’m not talking about mu—oh…metaphor.” Mic chuckled lightly. “There ya go, listener! Your language is doin’ fine. You don’t need me! But if you think you do, you know where to call me for another chat!” “I do!” the boy said happily. “Thank you, Present Mic! I promise I’ll keep doing my best!” You listened to the two talk for a little longer. The boy had some real determination and you admired it. He’ll hopefully reach his dream. You won’t wish ill will on others just because you didn’t reach yours. Giving everything you had and still not being enough was something no one deserved to experience. The boy had requested a rather angsty rock song that was trying really hard to sour your mood, but you’re not going to give the depressing vocalist what he wants. On the next segment, you internally rejoiced when you hear Mic’s voice in your ear. “Hey there, Mic.” “Oh? Is that my favorite lady listener I hear?” You giggled at the flattering question? “Maybe? I didn’t know you had favorites.” “Ah, you’re right! Not very professional of me! Don’t worry, listeners! I swear I love you all equally!” He boomed. It’s moments like this that taught you to keep your phone a fair distance away from your ear when you speak to the great voice hero himself. “So how’s the cafe treating you?” After so many talks, Mic had learned a few personal details about you, including your job and the area you worked in. He’s commented on how humble your life sounds; you didn’t disagree. “It’s been the same. Nothing new.” Your plan was to share one of your experiences with the more unruly customers today, but something else was weighing on your mind now. “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta have something spicy to share with us, don’t ya?” “Actually,” the last call was really sticking to you for some reason, you couldn’t help but let it slip out. “I want to say that what you told that boy was very sweet. And I was wondering…” Your voice caught in your throat. “I was wondering…” ‘Is it okay to give up?’ You didn’t want to say that. ‘What if you sacrifice everything you have, but still fail?’ You don’t tune in to be a downer. ‘Did you know that I was like that boy once?’ You talk to Present Mic to feel good. “Wondering what? You still with me, listener?” Mic asked. The concern in his voice urged you to spit something out already. “I was wondering exactly which pro heroes you knew personally. You said that you’ve met a lot,” you lied. You weren’t wondering that at all. Still, you won’t mind hearing his answer. “Ha! Where do I even start? Now’s the perfect time for some free promotion for the awesome heroes out there that deserve some sweet limelight! Let me start with a cool guy named Koi. He’s pretty new to the scene and works on the coast.” He went on and on about many lesser known heroes you weren’t familiar with at all, but that made the information all the more intriguing. He spoke highly of each person, listing their accomplishments and how hard they worked to get where they are. As always, he managed to perk you back up. You made a mental note to look up these heroes later. “Whoa whoa, record scratch, guys! The lady’s got me rambling for way too long. Trying to soak up all the time, are ya?” He sneered in the most light-hearted way. You laughed innocently. “Of course not! You were being so passionate about every hero that you mentioned, I didn’t have it in me to stop you.” “Well, I’ll forgive you just this once! You know how to end it. Hit me with that request!” The rest of the broadcast carried on through the night as a drowsiness began to creep on you. You listened to the last of the songs while getting cozy under your sheets. “Time to finally put those hands down! It’s been a blast, listeners! I hope you’re ready to rock with me next time! Good night!” You switched off the radio and finally allowed yourself to drift off. ‘Good night.’ ——— The weekend had flown by. Before you knew it, it was back to business at the cafe. You were always thankful for not being part of the morning shift on Mondays, your co-workers sharing horror stories of the tired and moody zombies demanding complicated orders as quickly as possible. Your shift started at noon. The day was going by smoothly, no wrenches thrown into your usual pattern. Small talk with the customers, impressing the regulars by guessing their orders correctly, practicing your latte art, it was a meditative cycle for you. By the time the sun was down with no recent customers, you were ready to start cleaning up. The place closes in less than twenty minutes and the rest of the staff was sitting around patiently. A ring at the door alerted you all to the sight of a man briskly walking in, gripping at his overcoat as he recovered from the cold outdoors. “Welcome sir,” you greeted while heading to your position behind the counter. The other workers gave their own welcome and followed suit. “Hey!” He said loudly. “Didn’t mean to barge in like that. It’s cold enough tonight without all of this wind.” The voice made you pause. The man approaching you had blonde hair pinned up into a messy bun, some stray locks hanging freely. He adjusted his glasses as he flashed you a smile. That voice…and paired with his appearance…there was no doubt about it. 'Present Mic?' “Heh, looks like I’ve been exposed already!” Mic said with a chuckle. You placed a hand over your mouth, not realizing you had said his name out loud. “Sorry, it’s just really nice to meet you in person. I’m a fan.” You thought you saw him pause as well, eyes widening for a brief moment before asking, “Are you, now? And have we talked before, dear fan?” His voice was calmer than what you were used to hearing on his show. “We have, on the radio. Quite a few times, actually,” you admitted. And with that, his smile was enhanced to blinding levels. “My favorite lady listener! I thought I recognized that sweet voice!” Mic didn’t seem to respond to your blush and kept going. “I remember you said that you worked around here, but I sure didn’t expect to bump into you!” “Well, fate’s treating us both well tonight. I can’t properly express how excited I am to meet you while on the job. What can I get you tonight?” You hid behind your professionalism and waited for his order. Mic rubbed at his chin and pondered. “Well, I’ve been convinced by word-of-mouth that you guys have some yummy pastries. What do you think will go well with some hot cocoa?” Fortunately, the cafe’s menu was practically branded into your mind, so even the presence of a pro hero isn’t enough to make you draw a blank. “I’d personally recommend one of our warm treats. Maybe you’d like to try our filled croissants? The strawberry one is my favorite.” “Mmm, sounds delish. I trust you,” His grins were seriously trying to make you melt. “Hit me up with a cocoa and a strawberry croissant for here!” After taking his order, Mic seated himself at a table to wait for his sugary meal. As you prepared his chocolate and croissant, you couldn’t resist stealing an occasional glance at him. He was studying the cute decorations that littered the place and gently bobbing his head to the indie music playing through the speakers, but the two of you happened to lock eyes once, forcing you to immediately look away. Whenever you saw him in the media, his eyes were usually obscured by the orange shades that went with his hero outfit. Now you realize just how green they are, almost as if they glowed. It didn’t take long to prepare his order, and you decided to grant him the special treatment of delivering the food to his table. There was no one else to serve, after all. “Hey,” he said. “Would you mind sitting down with me?” Your heart fluttered. “Not at all, Mic.” You pulled back the chair opposite to him and took a seat. “Call me Hizashi.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Present Mic is always too busy for a snack break.”   “Of course, Hizashi.” You listened to Hizashi’s compliments on the food and drink, trying not to stare as he ate. You were always so sure that he couldn’t possibly be as loud and lively as his hero persona, and you were mostly right, but even now as he dined at a simple cafe, he still somehow radiated a cheerful and positive energy. The warm feeling you got from hearing him on the radio was dwarfed by what you currently feel now that you are seeing him in person. He had eaten the last of the flaky bread before speaking again. “You know, now that you’re right here in the flesh, I gotta ask you something that’s been bothering me since my last show.” Lime green eyes peered into yours as he idly stirred the cup of chocolate. “Were you alright that night? You sounded…conflicted when we were talking.” A lump caught in your throat. You didn’t expect something like that to stick with him. Surely he had more important matters to worry about. “Don’t worry about it,” you answered. “I just had silly things crossing my mind at the moment.” Hizashi took a sip, his eyes not leaving you. “Alright, I don’t wanna pry. I know you’re a grown woman, but I do like helping people. It’s my favorite part of all three of my jobs.” His smile never faded since he walked in here and man, you weren’t used to him looking or sounding so soft. You sat there silently, fighting internally as you tried to decide whether or not to confess. The pro hero waited, drinking and showing no signs of impatience. Your hands gripped at your apron as you took a breath. “I wanted to be a hero.” The only sort of reaction you noticed were his raising eyebrows. “Ah,” he murmured. “Do you still want to be a hero?” A beat of silence. “…No.” Hizashi watched, probably waiting for you to say more, but you still didn’t know how much you wanted to share. “Does that bother you?” He asked. You nodded. “I’d like to hear why, listener.” Hearing the term you were so used to on his show lifted some of the pressure. Ironically, he was probably the best listener out of anyone that tuned in. You straightened your posture and swallowed. “Then I should probably start from the beginning.” And so you let it all spill. How you once had the same glorious dream as so many other children. You explained all of the time and effort you put into the tests and exams, but it was never enough, and your quirk always failed to impress spectators. You had family and friends that supported you for so long, had sacrificed so much to make this happen, but when you realized that your pursuit was leading you to homelessness, you accepted defeat. Hizashi paid close attention, only making a small comment here and there, but he waited for you to finish to say anything more. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get there,” he said sympathetically. “It’s fine.” You were looking down at your lap, unable to hold his gaze throughout most of the story. “I recovered pretty well. It’s nice here.” He hummed and leaned back in his seat. “That’s good! Not everyone can bounce back from that. Sounds like it’s still bothering you, though. Are you sure you don’t want to try again? I’m more than happy to help you out.” You shook your head at the generous offer. This man was too kind. “Thanks, but that’s alright. I’m happy where I am, it’s just that…” You paused as you tried to form the frustration you’ve felt for years into words. “I had put my whole life into this, gave up everything I had, and…and I don’t have anything to show for it, you know? Feels like the biggest waste.” “Yeah, maybe it was.” His blunt admittance surprised you. “But when you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, you stopped before you hit rock bottom. I know some students of mine who wouldn’t have that self-control.” He gave a soft snort at the thought. “Hell, when everyday is such a painful climb, you forget if there’s even anything waiting for you at the top. Maybe you would’ve reached the peak just to finally keel over.”  You nodded along with his feedback. It wasn’t anything new; you’ve comforted yourself with similar words, albeit with less metaphors. And yet, your pesky mind couldn’t accept such logic. “But people don’t like quitters.” Hizashi kept going, arms crossed and staring intensely at his empty plate. “Because quitting apparently means that you’re weak, not that you were smart enough to see that you’re just hurting yourself at a certain point. Man, you know how many people wouldn’t be stuck doing stuff that they hate if this mindset didn’t exist? I know a guy who finally won the heart of the heroine of his dreams, and I was like, ‘Awesome, dude!’” You watched with mild amusement as Hizashi’s volume was slowly rising along with his increasingly animated movements. “But surprise! Turns out that she makes for the world’s worst girlfriend! The poor guy is in his own little hell, but he’s wanted this gal for soooo long and he’s still soooo sure that they’re fated to be together. If I used my quirk to scream at the guy to break it off already, he’d still manage to ignore me!” A snicker nearby caught both of your attentions, turning to see the other staff members looking very entertained by his storytelling. Hizashi coughed out of awkwardness and shuffled in his seat. “You, uh, you get what I’m saying?” His voice returned to a calm tone. “Yeah, I get it,” You replied. “I never considered all of that. Sucks for your friend, but I understand the feeling. It must be frustrating to watch from the outside, too.” “Oh yeah, it is.” He sighed and rested his face in one of his hands. “I know they say that you can’t save people that don’t want to be saved, but it’s not gonna keep me from trying. Good to know that you climbed out of that hole yourself. Well, almost.” He finished off the now-lukewarm chocolate. “Your dream died, so handle it like any other death. Mourn and move on. Dwelling on it or thinking about everything you could have done differently is irrational.” You heard him mutter something under his breath, something about someone rubbing off on him too much. The gears turn in your head. Your eyes wonder to a small stain on the table as Hizashi’s advice breaks through your somber barrier. Mourn and move on.

“I’ll try,” You’re shocked by how dry your throat suddenly is. The sound of sweeping and chairs scraping across the floor makes you snap your head to the clock. It was past closing time! “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You didn’t even know if you were apologizing to Hizashi or your co-workers. “I lost track of time! Let me get that for you.” You took his trash before he could respond and quickly joined the others to clean up. “Sorry about that,” one of your friends said. “I guess we all got caught up in your cute little talk.” “Do you have to eavesdrop on every table in this place?” You asked with no real malice. Pretty much the whole staff has a fondness for gossip; perhaps it was just a side effect of working such a job. “Oh, you know me. Why do you even ask?” she laughed. You focused on cleaning the tables as Hizashi stood and straightened out his clothes. You hoped that he wouldn’t leave just yet. His pep talk was appreciated and you wanted to thank him properly before your bus got here. Your bus that was scheduled to arrive ten minutes ago. 'Oh shit!' “My bus! I have to—dammit! I gotta go!” You dashed into the back to gather your belongings and grab your bag. Hizashi and the others looked too stunned by your burst of speed as you exited the cafe and rushed to the bus stop, the biting cold having little effect on your adrenaline-filled body. 'Maybe the bus is late too. Maybe I can still make it.' Your sprint slowed down the moment you saw your ride home already speeding away. It was too late to catch up. You could only watch as the large vehicle drove out of sight, dropping onto the stop’s bench as you caught your breath. Wonderful. This is what you get for getting too comfortable with one of your customers, hero or not. “Hey!” Speak of the devil. You turned to the sight of Hizashi jogging around the corner and toward you. “Man, you move pretty fast.” He caught up to you and took in your tired and defeated form. “And by the looks of it, you still weren’t fast enough.” A loud groan escaped you. “It’s no big deal, really. Another one arrives in about thirty minutes.” “Ah, think you can wait that long in this cold?” A shiver ran through your body immediately after his question. Wow, it really was freezing tonight. You shrugged your shaking shoulders. “I’ll have to. It’s still better than walking.” “Or maybe I can take you home?” Your head snaps back to him. Did you hear that right? “You…you want to take me home?” You repeated. That radiant smile returns to his face and adds another wave of trembles to your body. “I help where I can, and I’m kinda the reason you missed it in the first place. It’s the least I can do for such a loyal listener.” You hesitate, your still-harsh breaths forming misty clouds. You trusted him, no doubt about that. No, what was making you hesitate were his tender expressions that were illuminated by the nearby streetlight, and his lax and inviting posture as he waited for your answer with his hands tucked in his coat, and the realization that Yamada Hizashi was pretty damn handsome.   Pure hot red was rushing up to your face. Surely that was the cold’s fault. “That sounds great,” you uttered before you could even stop yourself. “Alright! Come on, then. I’m totally not dressed to be standing out here for long.” You followed him back to the cafe where an old-fashioned Ford mustang was parked. ‘Classy.'  Your co-workers were watching you enter his car, some with smirks or giving you a thumbs-up. ‘Perverts. It’s not like that.’ At least, you didn’t think it was. The drive home was calming. The radio played lowly as background music while you gave him directions to your apartment. You kept sneaking a peek at him from the corner of your vision, a peaceful look on his face as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He seemed to be the type that hated complete silence; you didn’t mind. The streets were fairly empty, so it didn’t take too long to reach your complex. Hizashi pulled up and parked. “Welp, here’s your stop!” He announced as he hit you with another knockout smile. “Thanks for taking the Present Mic Express, listener.” You removed your seat belt, but made no further movements. “Thank you, Hizashi. For the ride…and the talk. You’ve helped me a lot today.” You say as you dare to look into his hypnotizing irises. He shrugged at your gratitude. “I’m just a customer who was in need of a nighttime snack and met a special gal that turned out to be even greater in person.” It took everything in your power not to cover your face like a flustered schoolgirl, instead breaking eye contact as you felt the heat return to your cheeks. “Thanks, you’re pretty great too.” You shuffled a bit as you both sat in silence. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.” You stayed where you were, staring at the door handle like it was the last thing you might ever touch. “I can’t wait to talk to you again on your show.” “Ditto.” “Alright…I’m leaving now.” “You already said that.” You squirmed some more. ‘Come on, you probably just look creepy at this point. Hurry the hell up and say something.’ “Is there something else you wanna tell me?” There was a small hint of amusement in his voice, and you gathered the courage to look at him again, shocked to see that his friendly smile had shifted into something a little more smug. It was probably safe to say that he’s reading the atmosphere pretty well. ‘Then just go for it.’

“Do you…do you want to come inside me—” FUCK. “Come inside with me! Do you want to come inside with me?!”  You were practically shouting the invitation in a feeble attempt to hide your slip-up. Hizashi threw his head back and cackled. “I’d love to, sweetheart! No need to be shy about it. I don’t bite.” You still sat there as the car turned off, his casual acceptance putting you into a stupor. Which version of the question was he even saying yes to? Whichever one it was, he had just accepted your offer to sleep together. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and now you suddenly do this? A rush of cold wind hit you when he opened his door. “Come on, unless you planned on doing it in the car?” He laughed when you furiously shook your head.  “Good. As much as I love my old girl, she’s probably not very comfortable for something like that.” You only shivered in response as you finally stepped out of his car and joined his side to guide him to your place. All it took was an elevator and a quick walk down the hall to reach your door. It was a little embarrassing to bring a pro hero into your small single-bedroom apartment. It had all of the essentials for a comfortable living, but there wasn’t much room for luxuries. You both kicked off your shoes at the entrance before you hurried to organize some stray clothes and bags. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.” “No worries,” Hizashi didn’t seem to mind as he got comfortable on a chair near your kitchen area and scanned the place. “This is nice.” You snorted at the comment. “I suppose,” you murmured. “It’s nothing worth praising.” “What, finding a place to stay after running yourself down for years? I think that deserves some praise,” he says so matter-of-factually.  That was a really admirable way to put it. “Thank you.” “Mmhmm,” he hummed, watching you finish replacing your things. Now you’re just standing here, not sure what to do next. How do you even start this? Your only experience was a clumsy one with a friend way back. “Well, we can’t do much at this distance, can we?” He says lightly as he gestures you to come closer. You comply and take his offered hand, letting him gently tug you down and onto his lap. He positioned you sideways, your legs laid out over his and making you look and feel like a nervous child. His face was so close, those green eyes looking shinier than ever. “You’ve done this before, right?” His warm breath brushes against your face as he speaks. “Yeah, I have,” you paused and wondered if you should tell him more. Hizashi was getting to know you more than you ever intended. “With a friend some years ago…it was a mess. Two virgins that had no idea what they were doing.” You laughed at the memory. “Heh, I feel you on that one. My first wasn’t the most dignified moment either.” You felt his body shake with his chuckle. His hand was still holding yours, thumb pressing against the space between your knuckles in a sort of massage. The feeling soothed you as his free hand came up to remove his glasses, your body shifting with his as he set them down close by. “In fact, your boy used to be a one pump wonder!” He smiled at your bewildered reaction to the information. “Hey, it’s not my fault sex feels so awesome!” You giggled into his shoulder. He spoke to you with such familiarity that it was impossible to stay anxious. It was why you enjoyed talking to him on the radio, but you never imagined it being the same during a scenario as intimate as this. “Hey, Don’t laugh at me! I’ve gotten better!” He said in mock anger. “And lucky for you, you get to see just how much. Welcome to my private show, listener.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was more comical than seductive. A hand gently held the back of your head, and you let it pull you in to press your lips against his. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling, his lips softer than expected. Your kisses were timid, giving little more than lingering pecks, and Hizashi patiently returned them, slowly adding more pressure and passion as encouragement. The feel of a tongue swiping against your lips made you squeak in shock, getting a chuckle out of him. “That was adorable,” he teased, his voice suddenly at a lower pitch that made you shudder. “You startled me,” you retorted before returning to the kiss, this time with your lips parted to grant him entry. He caught you off guard again by sucking lightly at your lips instead, forcing a gasp out of you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your own muscle shyly met his, stroking each other in a lazy dance. His hands moved to hold your face and he’s doing it so tenderly. A hot desire is flowing through your veins from his kisses alone; you can only imagine what else he has in store for you. After a few more wet smacks, the two of you finally parted to catch your breaths, you especially. “Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. Hizashi gave a breathless laugh. “Getting overwhelmed already? We haven’t even taken any clothes off yet.” He wasn’t as composed as he let on, a red flush spreading across his face. The hands holding your face moved down to wrap around your waist as he moved his kisses down to your jaw. You sighed and tilted your head back to give him access to your neck, burying your fingers in his hair as you felt him lick and suck at your pulse. Beneath the smooth locks you felt a pin that held his sloppy bun together. “Hizashi? Can I-ah,” a hard suck on your sensitive throat forces you to pause. “Can I…your hair?” You tapped at the pin to get your point across. “Go ahead,” he groaned against your neck, not even slowing his assault as you pulled the small clip out and watched his golden locks fall to his shoulders. He purred to the feeling of you combing through his hair like fine threads. “It’s really pretty,” you whispered, still shivering from the love that he was showering on your skin. He pulls away from your neck. “Are you saying my hair isn’t always pretty? Trying to hurt Mic’s feelings?” He said with a pout. He looked all the hotter with his long hair draping the sides of his face. “Not at all! I think Mic makes for a handsome cockatoo,” you jest with a smirk. “Heh, you got jokes, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing once I get these annoying clothes out of the way.” He double tapped your thigh. “Up.” You stood up and watched him follow instantly, noticing the bulge that was beginning to grow beneath his pants. You quickly tore your eyes away from it. “Hold on a minute, I know what we’re missing.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone. You waited, wondering what he could possibly need on his phone right now. A few taps later, a smooth melody began playing from the device. “Oh yeah, I’m feelin’ it already.” He set the phone down and shut his eyes, getting a feel for the beat of the sensual R&B song. This man was unreal. “You have…a lovemaking playlist?” You uttered while watching him get into a groove. “I’ve got a playlist for a lot of things, baby. Nothing sets the mood like a good tune. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go first.” And so he began his slow movements, swaying and bouncing in rhythm to the music, pulling his coat back and shrugging it off in a steady and seductive manner, tossing it aside. Watching a personal strip show of one of your favorite heroes was both hilarious and hot. On one hand, he was giving you playful and goofy faces while lip-singing to the sensual vocals. On the other, ‘I’ll be damned,’ you thought, because he really did know how to move his body and was successfully captivating you. His hips were moving in slow circles as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and revealing his impressively lean torso. ‘Oh, his hero outfit doesn’t do his body justice.’ You were so impressed by the chest and the abs that were just thick enough to be visible, you didn’t notice him struggling to pull the shirt off of his head. With his top completely bare, he smoothed a hand down his hair and leered at you with a slow lick over his lip. “Liking what you see, baby?” How the hell did his voice get so deep? Why was he being so sexy right now? Your throat was dry all of a sudden, so you simply nodded. “Good.” His hands ran over his chest, making sure you were watching them before they began an agonizingly slow descent, tracing over hard lines, his muscles rippling with the mesmerizing thrust of his hips, a sight so erotic that you wanted to look away, but just couldn’t. With the buttons and zipper quickly undone, his thumbs hooked beneath his pants and began to pull down and oh shit he was pulling at his boxers too. You were really about to see it and you didn’t know if you were ready, but your eyes remained glued to his waist as his masculine v-line and a neat trail of blonde curls was revealed, your breathing getting heavier with the knowledge that he was only centimeters away from revealing his… “Naaaah, I’ll leave these on for now.” Just like that, his voice returned to his loud and cheerful pitch, pants readjusted and no longer on the brink of revealing his manhood. Confused, you look back up to see an infuriatingly innocent face staring back at you. A pang of disappointment hits you hard; Hizashi had just teased you big time. “Your turn.” You stood there awkwardly, having no idea where to even start. “I…uh…” You try to get into rhythm with the song and already feel like a fool. “I’m not much of a dancer. Can I just undress?” You felt a little bad. You didn’t want to kill the mood just because you didn’t know how to be as light and silly as him. Hizashi casually approached in all of his topless glory. “Don’t stress, girl. The stage and spotlight ain’t for everyone,” he empathized. Slender fingers took hold of the bottom of your shirt, and he looked into your eyes for silent permission. You gave a slow nod of approval and lifted your arms so that he could smoothly remove your first article of clothing. He discarded the shirt quickly to lay his hands on your bare waist, tracing over your soft and sensitive skin, making you jump slightly. “That tickles,” you snickered. “Sorry, sorry.” His hands went higher until they reached your bra, fumbling with the clasp at your back. “Mind helping me out? I still haven’t mastered these contraptions,” he asked through gritted teeth. The fully concentrated face for removing an undergarment was a real hoot, but you showed mercy and joined his hands to undo the fastening and pulled the straps down your arms. With how hard he was staring at your exposed breasts, it took everything in your power not to cover yourself, keeping your arms at your sides. “Damn. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He spoke softly, giving feather-light touches over the mounds of flesh. “Can’t believe you’re giving me the honor of seeing you like this.” You warmed over at the praise and his touch, a thumb brushing lightly over your nipple. “You…look really good too,” you complimented back, your own hands coming up as you considered exploring his body. Hizashi noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your wrists. “You can check me out with more than your eyes, babe,” he says with a wink, and then places your hands right onto his hot and hard chest. ‘Woah.’ You swear that your heart stopped for several seconds. Hands slightly trembling, you run them slowly over his firm pecs, listening to his quickening breaths as you went lower to feel his abs. Present Mic was never really on your list of sexy heroes. You never bothered to imagined what the rowdy guy looked like underneath that superstar getup. ‘Shame on me, I suppose.’ The hero quietly reveled in your touch as he returned to your breasts, kneading them gently to bring out soft moans from you. There was something extra close and affectionate about just feeling each other, hands caressing and pressing every inch of both of your bodies. Your first time wasn’t this slow and steady; you and your partner were too embarrassed by so much clumsy fumbling that you ended up rushing to the main act. An arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer, a pair of lips speaking right next to your ear. “To the bed.” The song currently playing had a much more raunchy vibe to it, matching the growing intensity of the room as Hizashi gently pushed you back onto the mattress so that he could peer down and take in your body from above. You felt even more vulnerable in this position, but the man’s gaze, although lustful, was still gentle and nothing to be afraid of. You had enough courage to take his face and bring him down for another kiss, lips moving more boldly this time. Hizashi smiled behind the kiss, but had other plans and trailed downward, picking up where he left off during the first make-out. He licked a wet trail across your neck, wasting no time in reaching your breasts and peppering one with kisses, the slightly ticklish sensation filling you with pleasurable tingles. Too modest to watch him shower your body with love, you instead closed your eyes and focused on the feeling as the naughty music played on. The wetness of a tongue was flicking across your nipple, making your breath hitch, but it was the complete engulfment of wet heat that made your eyes fly open to the sight of him hungrily sucking at you like he was being nursed. You could still feel his tongue swirling around your nipple in the wet cavern of his mouth. It felt so good, bringing forth an ache within your lower body. “Ah, Hizashi…more…” Your plea came out as a shuddering moan. “Patience, babe,” he panted before switching to your other breast and giving it the same delicious treatment. Soon he continued his trek downwards, kissing at your stomach and playfully dipping his tongue into your navel. “Alright, time for these pants to go.” You lifted your hips to help him pull them off, nervous but so desperate to feel him touch you more. Surprisingly, he left your panties on and placed his lips right on your hipbone, making you twitch. The kisses wandered to your thighs, taking his time in enjoying the texture of your flesh as he licked, sucked, and gave the occasional nip to make you jump. You can feel the hot desire in your core building up as he got closer to your mound, your insides throbbing in anticipation, ready to be probed and explored already. Finally his face was right at your clothed pussy, a sinful grin forming as he observed the very damp spot. You were ready for him to finally remove the last barrier that prevented your bodies from joining. What you weren’t ready for was the shock of his tongue pressing against the thin cotton and licking at you like it wasn’t even there. Even with the shaky gasp that escaped you, you felt mortified. “H-Hizashi? What are—that’s—ohhh.” His lips managed to close right around your protected clit, the feeling muted but still powerful, but this was all so new to you. It’s one thing to fantasize having someone put their mouth there, but to actually…! Hizashi halted his ministrations and looked up at you. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” The panic in your breathless voice probably worried him a bit. You didn’t want him to think that he screwed up, it’s just that…ugh, you didn’t even know! “I, uh, you don’t have to do that, really,” you stammered. The pure confusion on his face was unexpected. “What? Go down on you? I love doin’ that, babe. You don’t?”

You were tempted to grab a pillow and hide your face. “I…don’t know. No one’s ever done that to me.” “Oh?”  He tilted his head, resting on one of your thighs as he watched you curiously. “Well this guy would love to do it to you. May I?” ‘Yes. Yes, please do it.’ You just couldn’t be as shameless as your inner thoughts, so the most you could do was squeak, “If you want.” Hizashi rubbed soothing circles around your inner thighs. “I’ll just give you a sample, alright? You just lie back and feel it. Actually…” He raised himself and took a hold of your hips, tugging you to the edge of the bed. He was now kneeling on the floor with your legs hanging over his shoulders. Even with your panties still on, you never felt more exposed. His mouth was back on you in an instant, licking long stripes up your covered womanhood. You could feel your heated lust, could feel your juices seeping out to mix with the saliva that was coating your ravaged underwear. But it didn’t look like Hizashi planned on letting up on his assault anytime soon, pressing his face against you as if he was craving your nectar from the source, but insisted on holding himself back. As you whimpered from the wet grazes and your growing arousal, you realized that this just wasn’t going to be enough. “Please,” you whined. “I need more.” “More?” The hero’s voice was husky, and the wicked look he was giving you wasn’t helping matters at all. “What do you want more of?” Your knuckles were turning white from how hard you were clutching the sheets beneath you. “You! Your mouth! Please, take them off!” “You like what my mouth does, baby?” He gave you a quick lick. “Yes.” “You wanna feel more of it?” “Yes, please!” You begged. “Wanna feel my tongue push inside your pussy?” The sudden vulgarity of his words made you clench. “Y-yes.” A finger runs up and down your slit, the cloth’s texture doing nothing but irritating you at this point. “Good, because your taste and smell is driving me wild.” His fingers hooked around the lace and, thank the gods above, finally pulled them off, sticky strands of your arousal being pulled along with it. Repositioning himself, he used his thumbs to spread you open and take a good look at you. ‘Oh God, that’s a bit much.’  You shut your eyes to avoid his invasive ones that were looking straight inside of you. Just before he dove in, a new track began to play. “Oooooh shit, I love this song!” You looked to see Hizashi on the verge of jumping up in excitement. After being so turned on, you managed to forget that he’s a dork. “They’re just asking me to go all-out on you, aren’t they? Get ready, sweetheart. I’m about to send you to heaven.” Your breathing quickened as he leaned in, suddenly understanding that his teasing was just to make you extra sensitive to the real deal, because his breath alone was sending pleasant shocks through you. The first long lick up your sex already had you moaning loudly. A pair of hands held your hips down to prevent you from bucking too wildly, thighs quivering on his shoulders as he hungrily lapped at you. Among the indecent sounds between your legs, you also noticed the song’s lyrics were describing the very act Hizashi was performing right now, his mouth working more vigorously whenever the singer expressed the desire to lick a girl, to make her cum all week. He was avoiding your clit, giving full attention to your sopping folds, sucking on them loudly before deciding to plunge his tongue straight inside of your pussy. The intruding muscle had you squirming against his hold, rubbing against your walls and pushing into you as far as possible. You noticed that Hizashi’s eyes were closed in bliss, giving soft moans as if this was bringing him just as much pleasure. Whatever the case, the sight of him enjoying himself so much was something you’ll be seeing in your erotic dreams for weeks, maybe months to come. You lost control of the sounds leaving your body as the pleasing heat grew, tongue thrusting in and out of your body, his nose pressing against your neglected clit. The thorough tongue-fucking was bringing you so close to the edge. Hizashi released a long and deep moan and…you don’t even understand what happened next. The sound sent the mother of all vibrations bouncing throughout your insides, forcing you into a violent convulsion of an orgasm. You didn’t hear your own scream, the music, or see Hizashi’s amazed expression when you tightened your legs around his head in a vice-like grip. Everything was suddenly muted save for the tremors wracking your entire being without mercy, pleasure pouring over you so strongly that it was frightening. Your surroundings slowly took shape again as you came down from your high, panting and waiting for your limbs to become responsive again. A hand brushed stray hairs away from your face, and you saw a very pleased hero laying beside you. “You alright, baby? You know where you are?” He asked jokingly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “Shut up.” You swung your weak arm and smacked him in the chest. “What the hell did you do to me?” “Sometimes I use my quirk to add a little kick,” he explained while rolling onto his side, giving your damp face a quick peck. “All it takes is a bass boost to soak the dancefloor, am I right? Though maybe that was too much. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or scared with the way you were spazzing out. Hope your neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered.” You shrunk into yourself. “Oh. Sorry,” you mumbled. You watched his hand casually explore your sensitive skin, catching a glimpse of the bulge in his pants that was more prominent than ever. “Your…” You gestured to his groin. He looked down at his stiff predicament and huffed. “Ah, yeah. It’s kinda been killin’ me. You good to keep going, babe?” How could you possibly say no after the ride he’s given you? “Yes, of course.” You moved to get up, but he gently pushes down on you. “Stay right here. I just need a minute.” The bed shifts with the loss of his weight and you watch him grab his discarded coat, fishing for something in its pockets and mumbling about something that he always keeps around, until you hear a little “a-ha” as he triumphantly holds up a condom. “Safety first~,” he says in a sing-song voice. Wow, he’s a prepared guy. Disobeying his orders, you raised yourself to sit upright. “Can I do the honors?” You asked. Honestly, you were just curious to see what he had in store for you down there. Hizashi looked surprised but pleased. “Be my guest!” he said excitedly, removing the wrapper while approaching you. The tent in his pants just sat there in front of you, begging to finally be released. “So, do you want me to finish my little show, or do you want to be the one to take’em off?” He watched your face intently as he thumbed at the band of his pants. You gulped loudly. He clearly wanted this night to be all about you, but he deserved some attention. “I’ll do it.” You whispered, taking a delicate hold of his pants to pull them down and revealing an intricately designed pair of boxers. Colorful urban-style shapes and characters covered the underwear, art that you would expect to see on the city’s walls. Any other time, you would take a moment to appreciate the impressive work, but you had a horny man to take care of. With a shaky tug, his final clothing was removed and the freed erection sprang out and smacked you in the face. The horrified ‘eep!’ and the utterly offended look you were giving his cock had Hizashi cracking up. “Shit, I’m sorry, babe!” He choked between breaths. “I guess I should have given you a heads up!” You were too embarrassed to even respond or look him in the eye. “Hey now, I promise he won’t hurt you again.” He gave you a pat on a head like a grumpy child and held out the condom to you. You silently took it and observed his manhood with a cautious look, as if it would somehow lash out and strike you again. He was pretty long; while his girth didn’t look too intimidating, you doubt that he can fit all of his length into you. It twitched when your fingers wrapped around it, rubbing up and down the soft yet firm organ and earning some sharp breaths from Hizashi. You finally attempted working with the music, stroking to match the same slow tempo. You took the lubricated protection and placed it over his swollen head, your other hand keeping up your rhythmic pumping as you pulled it down, stroking every uncovered inch until he was fully sheathed. “Fuck, girl. That was sexy,” Hizashi had watched your performance with lustful wonder. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit.” The praise excited you in more ways than one. His hands were on your shoulders and pushing you back down with him climbing on top, returning you both to your earlier positions. One hand reached between your legs and slipped a finger between your folds, dipping inside to sample your wetness. “Are you ready for me, baby?” His voice returned to that low raspy tone that had you throbbing for him all over again. Your nodding was so frantic that you made him laugh at your eagerness—your want has overpowered your doubts. He takes hold of himself and places the tip right at your entrance, your heart racing in anticipation to be filled. A sudden kiss distracts you. It was the deepest kiss he’s given you, lips practically holding yours prisoner while his tongue curled around yours. Breathy moans left both of your mouths. You were being effectively distracted until you felt the sharp burn of being stretched, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while he pushed inside as slowly as he could. He drank up your whimpers and you consumed his growls of restraint. Every inch felt like it went on forever, hot and pulsing and overwhelming, yet your greedy pussy clamped down and sucked him in until you were completely filled. Hizashi stayed there, finally detaching his lips so that he could study your face. Those green eyes that enchanted you at the cafe for their warmth and kindness were now glazed over with something raw and insatiable. Such a look made you tighten around him, savoring the groan he gave in response. Your legs wrapped around his waist as the signal to start moving, and he complied with a slow and shallow pace. The friction was already creating another burning knot in your core. The other time someone was inside you like this…there was pleasure then as well, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to a partner who knew how to properly prepare your body and keep your mind at ease. Hizashi’s hair was draped all around you, creating a romantic enclosure of just him and you, everything else in the room feeling so far away. His thrusts were getting stronger, your heat and tightness making it too difficult for him to keep things slow. You didn’t protest and took every electrifying stroke with a helpless cry. Even with all of the sounds you were making, you dare say that the man above you was being even louder. “Ah…fuck…oh, baby you feel so fucking good. Oh yeah, fucking squeeze me just like that,” his language also became a lot more colorful, apparently. Concerning volume aside, his words only added to your pleasure. Your heels dug into him, pushing him deeper inside and brushing against that spongy bundle of nerves that had you writhing. “Shit, thanks sweetheart. Been lookin’ for that spot.” He pants with a mischievous smile across his sweaty face. With a particularly hard slam that makes you see white, he slows down and starts a deep grind. “Ah! Hizashi!” You weren’t prepared for such powerful stimulation, his dick hitting your sweet spot while his pelvis rolls against your clit. He elevates himself for a better angle, forcing you to disentangle from his neck and instead fumble desperately at his arms. The hot tension was tightening at an alarming rate with the pleasure he was giving to both of your most sensitive spots. Your gaze constantly switched between Hizashi biting his lip in a sexy focused expression to his contracting muscles as his hips press and rub against every inch of your cunt. Your nerves could only handle the sensual onslaught for so long—it didn’t take long before they were all set ablaze and reduced you into a trembling mess with your back arched and mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Sure, it wasn’t a heart-stopping climax like the one he gave you with his mouth, but the simultaneous spasms of your clit and innermost walls was its own amazing experience that had you melting into a blissful puddle. “Mmm, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” Hizashi groaned in approval. Your orgasm was still rippling through you when he buried his face into the crook of your neck and returned to his rutting, now at a much faster pace. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation. Your own choked sobs were smothered by the most intense moans you’ve ever heard sounding right in your ear. “You’re so amazing, baby…so damn beautiful.” How the fuck did he sound so sweet even when he’s on the verge of nutting? This hero has given you more than he even realized. He’s given you his company and joy every Friday, he’s given you kind words at your job, and now here he was giving all of himself to you. The emotions, the hypersensitivity, the closeness, it was all too much for you.

You came a third time, the sensation toeing the line between pain and pleasure as you clung to him tightly. He gave several more thrusts before reaching his own peak with a howl that might encourage a file complaint or two. You just held him, feeling every shiver run down his limbs and every shaky breath expelled from his powerful lungs. Both of you rested in each other’s embrace. If only things could just stay this way; Hizashi never failed to make you feel so good, in more ways than you even dreamed of. “Woah woah, you alright?” Said man’s panicked voice startled you. Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt the moisture running down your cheeks. When did you start crying? “What’s the matter?” He tried again, his troubled eyes breaking your heart. ‘It’s nothing,’  that’s what you wanted to say, but your throat felt constricted as more tears fell. Hizashi didn’t need to hear you—he simply pulled you up into a proper hug, saying nothing as you cried in confused frustration. The music had stopped at some point during the sex, the only sound present now was your soft weeping. You let the soft rubs along your back soothe you, his other hand cradling your head. The tenderness of it all just made you want to cry more, but you held back and calmed yourself down and spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” “Nothin’ to be sorry about, listener,” he returned to using that term, making this feel like another one of your friendly night talks. “It gets pretty intense sometimes.” He pulled you into a kiss, this one much lazier than the others. This was it. The kissing. It was too sweet, too sincere, the warmth of it blossomed something inside your chest that felt too earnest to be simple lust. Was he aware of what he was doing to you? Were you just overthinking this? Weren’t one-night stands supposed to have boundaries? Hizashi pulled out of you, leaving behind a sad emptiness that wanted him back immediately. He rose to his feet and headed to your bathroom, most likely to dispose of the condom. You heard his voice sound out of the room. “I’ve got little angels and devils to teach tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t stay for long.”

Your heart felt like lead. “Okay,” you muttered. There really was nothing more to this. He was putting his boxers back on when he continued. “But…if it’s not too much to ask, maybe I can come by again?” What? Was he messing with you? “You’re serious?” You didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but your emotions were such a mess right now and you won’t appreciate having them toyed with. His pants were pulled up next. “One hundred percent serious!” He exclaimed with, dammit, that smile that lit up your entire being. “Maybe I’ll visit the cafe some more too. You were right about that croissant!” He returned to your side on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What I’m saying is, I think I like my favorite lady listener more than I thought.” Your heart was freed from its petrified state and swelled. Your arms swung around him before you could even stop yourself. “Hizashi…that’s so great but…you’re such a busy pro hero…I’m just a…how will this work?” You were rambling into his chest. “Easy girl, it’s nothing complicated. I’ll visit you whenever I have the time, alright? Ready to give you some support and…attention.” There’s that silly eyebrow wiggle again, making you laugh. You just kept on cuddling him, enjoying his presence for as long as you could tonight. A few minutes passed when you felt him shrug and break the silence. “Ah, what the hell.” He took hold of you and fell back onto the mattress with you now laying against him. “I guess I can stay for the night. I’ll just have to deal with waking up extra early tomorrow.” You snuggled into him and smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered. It’s unclear what kind of relationship you just formed with Hizashi; maybe this was only something temporary. All you knew is that you had him by your side, and you were going to cherish every minute of it and waste nothing. You’ll never waste a second of your life again.

[jinmukangwrites]

Nightwing BTHB: Serum Injection

Stars: Done. Moon: Requested. Eye: Next

Summary: Thirteen year old Dick wakes up in the clutches of owls; a group of people insisting he belongs to them. 

He thinks different.

[anon requested teen Dick Grayson being found out by the Court of Owls and kidnapped by them]

WARNINGS: GRAPHIC descriptions of blood and injury, non-consensual drugging, BRIEF THOUGHTS OF SELF HARM (but for only like a small paragraph), implied sort-of major character death, guys I really mess with Dick in this one. I’m pretty sure most of you reading this already love whump and violence but I still need you all to keep safe. Love you all! Let me know if I missed any triggers, I’m pretty sure I pinned down all the major ones though.

AO3 link

-o-o-o-o-

Dick shivers and curls up tighter against the corner of his small cell, clutching his left wrist and trying not to bend his spine too much because of the whiplash crawling around in his chest cavity. He hopes Bruce is okay… Dick doesn't remember much of the circumstances of his kidnapping, but he does remember driving home with Bruce from school when all of a sudden his guardian went taunt like a bow string before swerving off the road into a ditch just a few miles from the manor.

Next thing Dick knew, he woke up in this small room that can't even really be called a small room. It's more like a closet. A long rectangle that if he lays one way he can lay flat on his back, but won't be able to spread his arms out as much. The door to the room is on one of the short walls, looking all ominous with small gaps between it and the doorframe, the lack of door knob, and it's marble sheen. The floor and walls are marble too, and the ceiling looks rocky like granite. A single bright light shines above him, easily illuminating the small space, leaving the only things shadowed be the top corners where four different cameras hide.

Dick can't tell if those cameras can record audio or not. They can definitely visualize, the lenses are clear enough to see, but otherwise Dick isn't as studied in camera technology like Bruce is; he can't just look at them and immediately know what they are, when they were made, the company that made them and it's CEO, and who invented that particular model. He'd have to get up close and personal with it and hold it in his hands and perhaps have a monitor to his side to use the internet to help him out.

But right now, the thought of moving sends pangs of pain down his spine and in his neck. He's had whiplash before. You don't go on high speed chases in the Batmobile and not end up with whiplash at some point or another. Robin has been a part of his fair share of spectacular crashes… through crashes in the Batmobile are usually cushioned by millions of dollars of technology Bruce invented to make the effects of whiplash little to none. Crashing the Batmobile is tame when compared to a Mustang. Lot less support, a lot more broken metal, and a whole lot more seatbelts crushing your lungs as you catapult in every direction before you finally smack your head on the dashboard and pass out.

So Dick stays sitting, scowling at the door and rubbing his wrist. He doesn't think it's broken, just bruised, but it hurts just enough that he definitely doesn't plan on moving it any time soon. If he wasn't close to shivering in this room, he'd have ripped off a section of his shirt by now to wrap it, but alas… he's cold. And it's not broken so it can last without a brace or anything for a little while longer.

He just hopes his abductors reveal themselves soon and they tell him what they did with Bruce. Maybe he's just stuffed in a room somewhere different until a ransom is paid and then Gordon and the cops will storm in here and save them. Dick's been kidnapped plenty of times, and in all kinds of ways too. He knows how this goes. He'll be fine as long as he acts like a scared, thirteen year old Dick Grayson and not Robin the superhero. As long as he whimpers and cries and weakly and sloppily tries to struggle, he'll be okay.

He'll be okay.

He just hopes Bruce is too. Dick can't imagine what could happen to make the man just swerve off the road like that.

There's a scraping noise, a heavy door opening against solid ground, and Dick's snapped out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he curls up tighter, wincing as the back of his neck protests with a stiff yet stabbing pain and a wave of light-headedness washes over him. He keeps forgetting about the egg on his temple. The concussion from his most recent face-meet-dashboard episode. He's poked and prodded at it perhaps a half hour earlier, but he isn't completely out of it and it just hurts more than anything, but right now it makes it really difficult to completely focus on the forms of people who are standing right outside the door… just standing there, staring at him.

They… don't look like a typical "Dick Grayson" kidnapper. Or well, there's a couple different kinds of Dick Grayson kidnappers. The kinds of people Dick finds himself often in the clutches of are either high end, prestigious assholes who have a grudge against Bruce for some reason or other, or down on their luck thugs who want a quick buck. These people standing before him? They look like Robin kidnappers.

Meaning they're dressed in costumes and giving off a very… very dangerous vibe.

Dick immediately takes stock of them. Three are dressed similar to each other, in dresses or suits or gowns, their faces all covered by an eerie mask that looks like it could be based off an owl. The fourth guy though… he's the one who's giving Dick major red flags. He's muscular and taller than the others and his costume is black and leather and terrifying to look at. There's a hood pulled over his face, shaped like an owl who got steampunk goggles somewhere and that also gave off the shivering effect of light reflecting off of nocturnal eyes.

These look like genuine bad guys.

One of the masked ones steps forward, a woman in a low collared pink gown with lace lining the sleeves down to the middle of her forearms. Her blonde hair is all done up behind her, beads lining the braids until it all sits in a nice and perfect rose-shaped bun at the top of her head. She crosses her arms around her chest, and even with the mask Dick feels like she's studying him like he's a mouse in a glass cage.

"This is the Gray Son of Gotham?" She asks, clearly referring to Dick which throws him off for a number of reasons.

Normally, when he's kidnapped as Dick, people don't normally ever call him by name. First or last. It's always "brat" or "freak" or "that Wayne [insert "brat" or "freak" here]. It's something they do to lie to themselves that they hadn't just kidnapped, tied up, and locked up a kid. Calling him Wayne also makes it clear that they couldn't care less about him personally, they just want Bruce. They don't care that he's just a ward and that Bruce Wayne isn't his dad. They don't care about these things because he may not be adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he's definitely an easy-access key to his bank account.

But these guys called him Grayson. And not even Grayson, but they said it weirdly with an oddly purposeful space and a title added at the end. He wonders if it's a reference about how Bruce is normally jokingly known among the high class citizens as the White Knight of Gotham—a play on words to Batman's take of the Dark Knight of Gotham despite how they don't even know the half of it—but he doesn't get a chance to wonder long before the scary owl guy steps forward, looking directly at Dick with his shining eyes.

"It is, my Court," he says and Dick has to suppress a shiver, "he has finally returned to where he belongs, just like I promised."

"Hmm," the woman says, still staring at Dick as she brings a silk gloved hand to her chin in thought. "And you will take personal responsibility over his education?"

"Education?" Dick asks before he could think better of it. The cold air in the room becomes icy as every person's attention seems to zero in on him. Then, without any prompting, the fully costumed man suddenly strides forward and Dick almost doesn't have to fake a surprised yelp as his upper arm is easily grabbed, fingers wrapping around his limb hard enough to definitely leave bruises as he's forced to his feet; the grasp on him unrelenting as his arm is held higher than his head, forcing him to his tip toes.

Dick goes to wrap his hand around the grasp in an attempt for freedom, but he's painfully reminded of his injured wrist and all he can do is hold it to his chest as he tries to yank his arm out of the grasp on its own power. It doesn't do a thing, in fact the man's grip just tightens heartlessly.

"Of course, my Court," the owl man says, voice silky and dangerous, "I will see to all his education, starting now."

Dick cries out as his bad wrist is grabbed and held just as tightly.

The man bends to get in his face, those horrid eyes glowing dangerously and setting something nervous and scared aflame in his gut. "Lesson one: you will not speak unless addressed and given permission to speak. You will treat the Court with respect. Understand?”

Dick can only nod even though he has no clue what's going on or who these people are, but the nod seems to be enough because he's released. He gasps and scrambles backwards until his back meets the far wall, holding his pulsing wrist to his chest and blinking viscously to staunch the tears caused by the pain.

The owl man straightens with a suffocating aura of intimidation.

"I will turn him into the best Talon this Court has ever seen," the man says, voice prideful and boding ill-will. "We will not let you down."

"We will allow you to train him," the woman says, sounding pleased, "but know if he doesn't show his worth within the week, you both will be severely punished."

Dick feels a shiver go down his spine. If he could see the look on the owl man's face, Dick's sure a smirk would be sitting poisonous on his lips. "Trust me, my Court. He will surpass me. I will make sure of it."

-o-o-o-o-

Want more? This is but a small 1-2k of a 16k one-shot. Read the rest on AO3!

[miracul0us-multishipper]

My idea what could happen in Felix

Everything was as he remembered it. No piece of furniture had moved in the last year, not even a new picture decorated the stern grey walls. This house was just like the man it belonged to: cold, serious, stagnant.

Yet, when Felix stepped over the threshold behind his mother, there was a tingle of anticipation in the air that hadn’t been there the last time he had visited.

The Agreste Mansion might look unchanged, but the household it harbored was certainly not. And with all the factors leading up to this day, Felix sensed potential.

Change number one: Aunt Emelie was no longer here. He had not been able to find confirmation on her death, but it was irrelevant anyway. She was out of the picture for now, which meant no more suspicious eyes on him, and no more watchful supervision of his interactions with Adrien. Gabriel Agreste, he knew for sure, did not care about his son in the slightest as long as he was within the confines of his home.

Change Number two: Natalie Sancœur, his other watchdog, had greater things to worry about. Whether it was the mysterious illness that was just too similar to Emilie’s to be a coincidence, or having to hide her scandalous infatuation with her employer, she would not be able to keep track of him if he was careful.

Change number three: Ladybug had been in this house. Two times at least, maybe more often in secret.

Felix could almost see her, as if this soulless mansion had memorized her, as if her mere presence had left traces only he could sense. A red glow of life amidst the mausoleum Agreste called his home. A piece of art in this tasteless temple of wasted potential.

Truly, a goddess in the over-pompous shag of a self-important fool. He couldn’t fault Agreste for never leaving the house: the man should be too ashamed to even look into a mirror. If it hadn’t been for his lack of time, Felix could have come to Paris months ago already. Thanks to him, Felix had wasted precious time pacing around in his home.

“Good afternoon, Uncle.” he greeted the collective disappointment of the fashion world with a smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you again. I hope you have been well.”

It would be too much to hope that he had caught the mysterious illness as well, wouldn’t it?

Gabriel Agreste eyed him with a subtle approval - despite not being related by blood, they were both formal speakers, even with family. Then the old man awarded him with a nod, before moving on to exchange pleasantries with his mother. His usual mistake. He was so far less observant than his wife had been. She had loved Felix, he supposed, the way she would have loved any family member. But oh, she had been clever enough not to trust him. He’d never been alone with Adrien, her sheltered little darling, for more than a few minutes before she would check on them. Manipulating his all too trusting cousin had been impossible, or at least not profitable as long as Emilie had been there to foil his schemes. But she wasn’t here, now.

And Gabriel’s dismissal of Felix was a guarantee that no one would pay any attention if he wanted to spend some time with his dear cousin.

Perfect.

As his mother and Gabriel continued their conversation, he casually wandered to the stairs. Slipping into Adrien’s room used to be a lot harder, the last time. Just as the rest of the house, this room hadn’t changed a bit. The same bed sheets, the same books in the shelves, the same carpets on the floor.

The only difference was his computer. Felix stiffened when he saw that it was turned on and displayed a familiar figure. Ladybug beamed at him from every monitor, radiant even as a mere picture. He came closer.

At home, he’d spent hours rummaging through the Internet and news channels to find pictures of her, to the point where he was positive he had seen every photography there was of her. But he’d never seen this one.

Where did you get this, Adrien?

A scoff escapes him. Of course Adrien would happen to have pictures nobody else had of the red masked idol. He just was that lucky. Had always been. Well, not anymore. Now that Felix was back in Paris, he’d make sure that he, the far more worthy cousin, would receive Ladybug’s favor. For now though, Felix had to have this picture!

He moved to the keyboard to send it to his phone, when a cough let him freeze.

“Felix”, Adrien greeted him coldly. “You are early.”

Oh, right. He had completely forgotten about him.

“Adrien!”, Felix turned around to his cousin, a bright smile on his face. “I convinced Mother to leave a little sooner so we would arrive before nightfall. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Adrien’s sour face relaxed for a moment, before returning to wary.

“Not that long.”

Polite for “not long enough”. He had to get onto Adrien’s good side again if he wanted to succeed.

“It felt like ages to me.”, Felix kept up his cheerful tone. “I’ve been so bored this year. Remember how much fun we used to have?”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed.

“The last time you were here, you tricked me into ruining my fathers designs. He didn’t speak to me for weeks!”

True. Though he hadn’t expected Gabriel to be this vindictive, he’d been bored and Adrien was easy to commandeer around. It had been fun to make him run errands in his father’s atelier, and if he’d convinced him to press a few buttons on Gabriel’s tablet... so what? His uncle was so much more entertaining when he was furious.

“You made it look as if I did it on purpose!”

Felix’ smile wavered.

“I did? I’m sure I warned you that playing with your fathers things had consequences.”

Well, he’d formulated it differently, back then. Maybe he’d phrased it to make Adrien think Gabriel would praise him for sorting his designs. But these details were irrelevant now.

“It’s been so long, I barely remember.”, he chuckled.

After Adrien didn’t budge, he added: “But I’m very sorry if you got in trouble.”

He sighed deeply, thinking of his goal.

“The truth is, I wasn’t always very considerate of you. And I’m really sorry, Adrien.”

His cousins distrust seemed to fade, so he continued.

“You were nothing but welcoming of me, and I was a little... too excited. There’s a lot I should have done differently.”

That much was true.

“I was hoping we could start over,” he offered Adrien the bait, “but I understand if you prefer for me to leave you alone.”

Adrien’s greatest fear: being alone. He would be like clay in his hands now.

“I...”, the older boy started. He was visibly torn between caution and hope, before his need for company took over. “O-Okay. I understand. And... I would like to spend time with you.”

A smile appeared on Adrien’s face.

“Starting over sounds... great!”

He’d taken the bait, just as always. Emilie’s golden boy would never learn.

As he moved to hug his cousin, slipping Adrien’s phone into the sleeve of his shirt was a piece of cake.

-

Oh. Well. He’d thought he had a lot of pictures of Ladybug, but it looked like Adrien had once again beaten him at something. And it wasn’t just the amount of photos, it was their content! Close ups of Ladybug’s face, smiling into the camera or waving at the photographer. Shots of her jumping over the rooftops, from a point of view that should have been impossible to attain. The blurriness of the buildings told him that the camera must have moved at a similar speed as Ladybug, but no News Helicopter should have been able to fly this low or close to her.

“How did you get these?”, he murmured, envy twisting his guts. A gasp escaped him when he reached the last picture of the collection. It was a selfie, and Ladybug was laughing into the camera while playfully shoving the person taking the picture away. Felix couldn’t see the face of the mysterious photographer, but amidst the blurred brawl there was a splotch of familiar blond hair.

He couldn’t believe it.

Adrien, this naive, immature and clueless brat, had taken a selfie with Ladybug on the rooftops of Paris. He was close enough for her to laugh with him, close enough for her to tussle and fool around with on a photo. Everything Felix desired was once again already in his cousins hands. How?!

His mind was racing. He had to change his plans.

Originally, Felix had wanted to use Adrien to get close to the Ladyblogger. The girl obviously had - or knew someone who had - the means to ask Ladybug for an interview. Once he found out how, he would have been able to meet her. To convince her of himself.

But now this was out of discussion. If he wanted Ladybug to pay attention to him, he needed Adrien out of the way.

Without further ado, he opened a closet and pulled out some of Adrien’s clothes. He got changed, ruffled his hair to match his cousin, and carefully peeked out of the bathroom. Adrien was busy on his computer, allowing Felix to check if he had gotten everything right. The hair, the clothes, the shoes... the ring! He wouldn’t manage to steal it without Adrien noticing, but- ...Wait. Since when was Adrien wearing a ring? And why hadn’t he seen it in any Agreste collection?

He felt like there was more to it, but time was precious. Lazily he snipped a piece of soap against the window, causing Adrien to look up and walk towards the other side of the room. A little sneakiness on his part, and he was out of the room.

The adults were in the dining room, talking about things that didn’t interest him in the slightest. He unlocked Adrien’s phone - this idiot hadn’t changed his password in years - and took a selfie with the distracted adults in the background.

“Father isn’t watching - time to sneak out!”, he captioned it, before accidentally sending it to Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s social media.

He didn’t have to wait long. Ducking behind the stairs, he watched as Nathalie looked on her phone, before suddenly rushing up the stairs to check on her protég��. Muffled voices argued on the first floor, before Nathalie closed and locked the door behind her - trapping Adrien in his room.

“Sorry, cousin.”, Felix smirked. “But I can’t afford to have you ruining my chances.”

With that, he happily strolled out of the mansion, ready to conquer Paris - and the heart of its hero.

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here.. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s the second installment. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think.

Warnings: language,  flirting, pet names, angst, feels, bad date vibes

Masterlist

[Sarge1917:] Tell me all your favorite things.

[SpaceKitten:] All of them? You can’t be a liiiittle more specific? Lol

[Sarge1917:] oh, I’m sure I could, but.. I want to know everything there is to know about you, kitten, so I figured I’d just outright ask. (;

Every time Sarge flirted with you like this, it made you squirm in your seat while a huge smile overtook your face. To say that you found him irresistible was an understatement.

[Sarge1917]: But if it’ll be easier for you.. let’s start with favorite food, music, flowers and scent.

[SpaceKitten]: I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

[Sarge1917]: Deal.

This is always how your conversations started out, genuine interest in wanting to get inside your shell. But, in the early hours of the morning when the sun is just starting to paint the sky in pastel flames, the connection between you sparks and ignites.

You spill your hearts out without a second thought.

[Sarge1917]: Kitten.. can I be completely honest with you?

[SpaceKitten]: always.

Your response is nearly immediate, like its second nature to reassure him that he can trust you. That he can feel safe with you.

[Sarge1917]: I really care about you.

[SpaceKitten]: I really care about you too, Sarge.

You thought that was common knowledge in the friendship that had bloomed between you. He was always there for you, and you for him.

[Sarge1917]: As happy as it makes me to hear that, I’m not sure you understand what I’m trying to say…

[Sarge1917]: What I mean is.. I like you, kitten.

[Sarge1917]: Probably much more than I should, given I’ve never even so much as heard the sound of your voice, let alone seen your face or held you in my arms.

[Sarge1917]: I thought all of that was important when I first joined this site.. that I was already set up for failure because id never have an emotional connection with a person I couldn’t physically see.

[Sarge1917]: But I was wrong, kitten.. so very wrong.

Your mouth has gone dry at this point, a lump forming in your throat as your heart threatens to explode behind your ribs.

[Sarge1917]: Talking with you is the highlight of my day, and frankly, I don’t want to imagine a life without you in it..

[Sarge1917]: Which makes what I’m about to say very hard for me.

The excited rhythm of your heart immediately becomes a harsh thundering in your chest, fear flooding through your veins.

[Sarge1917]: I know we’ve never really gotten into detail about what I do for a living, but occasionally, I have to go off the grid for a few weeks, even months, at a time..

[Sarge1917]: It would seem now would be one of those times.

You stare blankly at the screen for a few moments, not quite sure how to respond to him.

He was leaving… for an undetermined amount of time? 

And ‘off the grid’? What did that mean?

No computer access? Surely he had a cell phone?

[Sarge1917]: Kitten…? please still be with me..

You don’t even notice how long you’ve sat, lost in your own thoughts, until he messages again.

[SpaceKitten]: I’m here..

[SpaceKitten]: How long will you be gone…?

You don’t notice you’ve started to tear up until you can barely read his response when it comes through.

[Sarge1917]: Two to three months. Depends on how quickly I get my work done. I won’t have access to phone or internet where I’m going. That’s why I needed to tell you..

[Sarge1917]: Because I know it’s selfish to ask you to wait for me.. Hell, if you even feel the same as me..

[Sarge1917]: But I can promise, as soon as I get back, I will contact you.

You’re surprised he’s the one feeling selfish, when all you can think of is begging him not to leave you.

He wasn’t yours, yet the idea of going weeks without speaking to him made anxiety fill your lungs. 

He’d given you the one thing you’d been missing: hope for something good. Hope for something beautiful.

[SpaceKitten]: When do you leave?

[Sarge1917]: First thing in the morning.. I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I.. I didn’t know how.

[Sarge1917]: I’m not good at saying goodbye.

You force a smile and take in a shaky, tearful breath.

[SpaceKitten]: Not goodbye.. just ‘see you soon’, right..?

[Sarge1917]: Of course. Just see you soon.

When Sarge finally signed off a few hours later, an empty pit formed in the center of your chest and you found yourself silently sobbing yourself to sleep. 

Was it childish? Maybe, but in that moment, you didn’t care. Your worst fear in the friendship had come to reality; he left.

Two weeks turned to four, four turned to six, six to eight and so on, until Sarge’s absence had reached an appalling 22 weeks. 

Summer had turned to autumn, and the autumn leaves had begun to turn a shade of brown that only winter’s frost can bring.

Waiting longer than that for a faceless man you’d met on the internet seemed foolish, and so you were determined to move on.

You found a different app, more up to date, showing you other singles in the area who were looking to meet up. 

Setting up a date with the first guy who matched with you seemed like a good idea at the time.

When you show up to the address of your dinner date, you realize it’s a more-sleazy-than-not type of place, and seemed like the perfect spot to have more intimate conversations than you were ready for. Especially on a first date.

Trusting your gut is something you’ve always had a hard time with.

Your date is named Nicolas, and though his profile seemed nice enough, he seems to have a problem with keeping his hands to himself.

Fingers found their way beneath the hem of your dress and inched far too high for your liking, several times.

Each time you denied his advances, he laughed as if it was a cute joke, and proceeded to do it again ten minutes later.

An hour and a half in, and it was taking everything in you not to slap him or cry.. or maybe even both.

The end of the date couldn’t come fast enough, and you were thankful you drove separately.

He walks you to your car, backing you against the drivers side and pressing his body to yours in a feeble attempt to seduce you. He seems to have no idea how repulsive you find him. 

Claiming to feel ill manages to get you away from him without making mouth-to-mouth contact. When you’re out of the parking lot, tears fall freely from your eyes.

Once you’re in the safety of your apartment, skin scrubbed raw in the shower and wrapped in your smoothest, softest robe, you make a silent pact with yourself that the only men you need in your life are Ben & Jerry.

They’d never treat you this way, they’d merely mend the holes in your heart with chocolate and caramel goodness.

What more could you need?

Your hand is shaking and your eyes are puffy and bloodshot when you finally bring up your chat app on the computer. The one you’d met Sarge on. 

You go to your account settings, finally ready to let go, to give up and deactivate your account.

You’d decided you were finally done.

Taking a few deep breaths, you bring the cursor of your mouse to rest over the DEACTIVATE button, fresh tears stinging the back of your eyes as you hesitate.

A silent prayer resounds in your mind as you let out one more shaky breath and prepare to finally click.

...but not before the familiar sound of a new IM comes through the speakers.

Your eyes are still closed from your moment of regaining composure, and you try to calm the erratic beating in your chest. It can’t be him. It can’t. Calm yourself.

When you open your eyes, tears flow over their edges and your jaw falls slack.

[Sarge1917]: Kitten…?

You’re convinced you’ve made this up, it’s some sort of hallucination. Moments ago, you silently told yourself that if it was meant to be, you’d be given some sort of sign, and now.. this? 

Was it coincidence? Or interference from the divine?

You’re too trapped in your own mind to even consider replying right away.

[Sarge1917]: Please still be with me…

His words ring back to memories of your last conversation and you find your emotions fighting a battle between relief, joy, and anger.

[SpaceKitten]: I’m here, I just.. I’m in shock. Is it really you?

[Sarge1917]: Please forgive me. I didn’t know my trip would be extended and I had no way to let you know.

[Sarge1917]: I thought about you every day I was gone.

The familiar feeling of butterflies in your lower belly resurfaces, though you try your best to fight it.

[Sarge1917]: Kitten? You there?

You weren’t sure how it was even possible, but more tears fill your eyes as you type. Your fingers hit the keys harshly, not even bothering to fix the typos as you go.

[SpaceKitten]: You were gone. For so fucking long.

[SpaceKitten]: I started losing hope after week ten, but held out for you for 22 weeks.

[SpaceKitten]: you have no idea what that was like for me, Sarge. Wondering why you didn’t come back, when you swore you would.

[SpaceKitten]: Do you remember your last words to me, Sarge?

[SpaceKitten]: you said “please don’t forget me”

[SpaceKitten]: and I told you it’d be hard to remember anything else

[Sarge1917]: Kitten, please, let me explain

You’re too far into your rant to stop, it’s coming out involuntarily at this point.

[SpaceKitten]: I went on a date for the first time in two years tonight. And I promised myself I wouldn’t self sabotage, just because I couldn’t get you out of my head.

[SpaceKitten]: The date turned out to be shit anyway, but I can’t decide if it’s because I set myself up for it, or if it’s because all men are handsy, sex crazed idiots.

[SpaceKitten]: And all I could think when I got home was, “I bet Sarge would never have done this to me”, even though I have nothing for comparison because we’ve been nothing but ghosts to each other for nearly a year.

[Sarge1917]: Kitten.. I’m so sorry.

You have to cease your keyboard attack momentarily to fetch a tissue and clean up your face.

[Sarge1917]: Do you want me to leave you alone?

The question makes you scoff and shake your head, though you’re well aware he can’t see you.

[SpaceKitten]: That is literally the last thing I want…

Your eyes scan over the words you’d sent minutes ago, and you realize that while you feel you were in the right, you might’ve been a little harsh. 

Guilt eats away at the lining of your stomach while you wait to see his reply.

[Sarge1917]: Can I call you..?

You’re stunned by the question. It was the first time such a thing had been brought up in all the time you’d been talking. You figured it was just because he was too anxious, or hated phone calls like so many people, including yourself.

[Sarge1917]: Hell, you can even call me. Block your number, I don’t care. I just want you to hear my voice when I say what I have to say. I need you to believe me, and if I can’t be there to say it to your face, this will have to do.

His next message contains an assortment of numbers, the ones you’d have to dial to finally accomplish something you’d only dreamed of for months. 

Hearing his voice.

[Sarge1917]: Sleep won’t come easy for me tonight, so take your time, Kitten. I’ll be here when you’re ready.

Your phone is sitting on the edge of your desk, the blank screen taunting you as you look down at it. All you had to do was pick it up, dial the 10 digit number, open your mouth and force words out.

It sounded a lot easier than it was going to be.

What if you forgot how to speak?

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he does turn out to be a 77 year old trucker?

What if he’s a total creep, like you’ve been worrying about the whole time?

Somehow, you find the pros outweighing the cons. Your hands move of their own accord and pick up your phone, typing in each number with intent. You could do this.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before someone finally answers.

The voice on the other end of the call is warm, deep, and sounds like honey. Your insides melt at the sound.

“Kitten?”

TAGS: (sorry if you dont like being tagged, its been so long since i’ve posted idk who to tag anymore lolol. @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing @formulafun @curvybihufflepuff

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Written for Trope Madness’s betting kitty winner, @ruleofexception! It’s been....over six months, but here is this HUGE BEAST of a chapter. I know I said I thought this would be the last Laxdo chapter, BUT...there’s gonna be at least one more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of entertainment, back in the country. At least, not the way Shirayuki’s constantly bombarded with it here, videos up on billboards and scrolling across phones on the subway. The B&B had a limping internet connection, and with the only television in the common room, she’d spent more time inside a book or outside the house than struggling to find a channel the other boarders would agree to.

So when Zen asked her to join D&D, when Kiki had teased her for not even knowing what she’d said yes to --

Well, she’d done her research. Not just the kind Izana gave her, reading source books and studying lore, but watching videos, listening to podcasts, finding the D&D episodes of popular shows -- anything that would give her something to expect. Nothing could have rivaled her disappointment or her relief when she realized costumes were optional; she hadn’t known how she would cobble together historically accurate, fourth century Welsh gown when even the SCA shrugged their shoulders at the idea, but, well...it was exactly the sort of challenge she would have risen to, if she had the excuse.

Still, she’d thought she had an idea of what to expect: roleplay, quick thinking, rich story, complicated feelings, improv, maybe even some funny voices, but --

Nothing had prepared her for the amount of planning.

“So that’s it?”

Shirayuki startles; she’d been deep into splitting healing duties with Mitsuhide. Paladins are only half spell casters, only good for buffs and an occasional off-heal, so all the curse removal duties fall to Lynet. Bedwyr is more or less moral support; unless the curse itself had some sort of permanent stat drain, there’s nothing he can do.

Zen isn’t invested in this conversation, of course; magi don’t have magic that can’t be applied to themselves or their weapon. Which is why he’s craning his neck toward Izana, incredulous. “We just cast a whole bunch of Remove Curse and then hit the road?”

Shirayuki isn’t an expert on Izana’s expressions, not when the difference between them is the angle of an eyebrow or the twitch of a lip, but she feels confident in calling this one positively withering. “Is that what you think you should do?”

The temperature of the room drops two degrees. That’s a question where everyone knows the answer.

“We still don’t know who started this,” Mitsuhide tries, haltingly, thick fingers worrying at the edge of his character sheet. From the dog-eared corners on every side, this isn’t a first-time occurrence. “It’s not a good habit to leave enemies behind us.”

“Not a healthy one, at least,” Kiki adds, leaning her knee against the table.

“But we don’t have any hints either.” Zen’s flushed, frustrated. “Do you guys just want to hang around here, waiting for him to come back? If he comes back?”

“Or her.” Kiki’s brow twitches, and Shirayuki’s not sure whether to read it as amusement or annoyance. Maybe both is the better bet. “Then again, you haven’t tried to woo any rescued damsels this session, so probably not a dread sorceress. Unless there’s something Shirayuki isn’t telling us.”

Kiki turns to her with an inquisitive look, and even though she knows she’s joking, even though she sees the quirk at the corner of her lips, Shirayuki’s cheeks flare fire-engine red.

“Hey!” Zen snaps, not looking much better. “Shirayuki--”

“Well.” Obi’s mouth cants, eyes catching hers from their corners. “I know Beaumains is under her spell.”

She can feel it, this moment of opportunity being flung open like a window, and -- and his wink is not helping matters. Not at all. Especially not when Kihal’s flirt back or make out with his face is burning a hole in her pocket, reminding her of what she was trying to do before plot carried her away. It’s just --

She can’t say something now. This isn’t Lynet and Beaumains, this is -- is them, Shirayuki and Obi, and that might mean something, and she doesn’t -- she isn’t --

Well, there’s just a huge difference between a flirtation and a boyfriend, probably. And she hardly knows if she wants the first, let alone -- that. Not with some college boy she’s known a week. He might play trumpet, for all she knows.

The moment stretches on, too long, and Kiki hums, amused. “I suppose that is some damning evidence.”

“Okay.” Zen’s folded himself into a huff, fuming so hard it’s an honest surprise smoke isn’t pouring out his ears. “So you all think we should just...hang around? Hope for some Big Bad to come wandering back to check his work?”

“Well.” The word bursts out of her, unbidden, but -- she’s committed now, with everyone watching her. “We do have, um, another reason.”

He blinks, some of his flush fading back to pink. “Oh?”

“I, uh, only prepared one Removed Curse at our last rest.” Her hands twist themselves in knots under the table, anxious. “But I can fix that at our next one! If this works like it should, then I should be able to get everyone on their feet in...a few days, maybe?”

Zen lets loose a whine that would make a puppy worry. “A few days.”

“Um, well...” Shirayuki squirms in her seat. “Give or take.”

Kiki’s eyes narrow. “Just how many spell slots do you have?”

“Um...” She flips through her sheet, squinting at the chart on the second page. “Three?”

Mitsuhide lets out a worried hum, too high-pitched for a man his size. “How many people are under this spell again?”

The question sits heavily at the table until Izana leans back, the picture of surprise, and asks, “Oh, are you asking me?”

Zen stares. “Is there someone else who would know?”

“It could have been rhetorical. A nice little thought exercise.” He shrugs, and Shirayuki does not miss the way his mouth twitches at a corner. “But the answer is: as many as it takes to make a castle of this size function.”

Zen groans.

“Oh, looks like we better get comfy, my liege,” Obi says with a wolfish grin. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

This night is your longest yet; you had thought the first interminable, when all the miasma of illness hung thick over the room, choking you even behind yours mask. Despair had clung to every wrinkle in your gown, tight like a child’s hand on a mother’s apron, always niggling, reminding you that time would run out, that perhaps no amount of your cleverness could save them.

But hope is worse.

There is no reason to pick the man you do -- or rather, the lack of one becomes it. With only a single brew, Bedwyr suggests that you spend it on the castle’s healer, but--

But this magic is familiar somehow. It slicks along your skin like a drop of oil in water, and though you cannot divine its maker, you do not trust it to act as it ought. Curse though it may be, there is a part of you that worries any cure that you brew will only add to your troubles.

You worry over that same thought for endless hours, trying to get to the marrow of it, to logic out why dread settles so firmly in your gut. There has never been an instance, not one, where your gifts have failed you, where the joy of victory has turned to ashes in your mouth. Except for the one, of course.

Despite your misgivings, the man wakes at dawn.

It is not a calm thing, oh no; he heaves into life, breath filling his chest so forcefully it arches him upright. He clutches at his breast, wide-eyed, but besides the atrophy expected of long illness and the shock of waking, he is healthy. So healthy he empties the first bowl of broth you give him, and the second, and when you bring the third he inquires after a heel of bread as well.

“Well, this certainly stands as a testament to your skill,” Arturius remarks, bemused, as the man sops up his bowl. You are tired, and for a moment you are tempted to ask if he had doubted it, but -- it would be picking a fight, and it is not the prince’s fault that his particular skills meant he slept, rather than wait.

“I brewed more last night,” you tell him. “Enough dose for three.”

“Our priority is the healer, of course.” He bites his lip, head tipped back in thought. “But the others...”

For the first time in hours, you feel your mouth lift into a smile. “I did have a thought about that...”

Izana blinks. “The dwarf?”

“He’s cursed, isn’t he?” She must be the only one that remembers; despite happening only hours ago, the rest of the party stares blankly at her. “Worse than anyone else, if I’m remembering right.”

“Oh,” Obi hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I remember that. He’s human.”

“Oh, right.” Zen scoops up the dwarf’s figure, squinting hard at its shapeless features. “I thought he was going to be the Big Bad’s sidekick, honestly.”

“Mm, agreed.” Kiki leans over, giving the plastic the same skeptical look. “I was waiting for the backstab.”

“Such little faith in your fellow man,” Izana clucks, shaking his head.

She arches a brow, eloquent in her disdain. “It is your game.”

His mouth stretches, curling into a smile Shirayuki’s only ever seen on the Grinch. “That is fair.”

“Still.” The word drags Izana’s attention back to her, his eyes almost comically wide. “I want to give our friend at least one of these. After all, he’s been helping us this whole time.”

“Has he though?” Obi mutters, and without even thinking, Shirayuki puts an elbow straight in his side.

Every hair stands on end as she realizes what she’s done. She’s -- she’s practically scolded him, the boy she maybe-kind of-might want to flirt with. Or his character, at least. For, you know, fun.

When she dares a glance at him, his eyes have rounded, eyebrows practically up at his hairline, but -- but --

He almost looks impressed.

“Huh,” Izana huffs out, drawing her attention back to the topic at hand. “Do you now.”

It’s not a question, but she hasn’t gotten this far by letting him practice his rhetoric. “I do.”

He hums, tapping at his notes. “Well, I suppose you could...try.”

“Me?” The dwarf shifts on his spindly legs, wringing his thick-fingered hands over his belly. “But -- but there are others. Other who would be of much more use than me!”

“We have more than enough for your healer,” you assure him, though you have to grit your teeth as he dances.

There’s something strange, off-kilter about the way he moves, about the way his face changes, as if your mind is trying to make him into two different people entirely -- one which is familiar, and one which is entirely not. It is tiring to say the least.

You meet his eyes, those warm hazel-green, and say, “You have helped us immeasurably. Who else could be more important than you?”

“The head of the guard?” he supplies with a squeak. “The steward. The -- the cook? Anyone, my lady, would be more helpful that me.”

You lower yourself to a chair, coming to his height. “No one is more important here than the man who knows how this all came to be.”

His gaze is watery when he tears it from yours. “No, no,” he insists, voice ragged. “Spend it on the others. All of them are more deserving than me.”

"Welp.” Obi pops the ‘p’, annoyed, and it draws attention to his mouth, to the way it fits around the words he speaks and -- well, Shirayuki really didn’t need help with that. “We’re doing real good, solving this mystery.”

It’s been three in-game days, and with every awoken man, more questions are asked than answered. So far none of them can remember being cursed, and when they bring the dwarf in front of them --

Well, Shirayuki knows this is all pretend, that the dwarf is really just Izana bending his voice into something new, but the way his expression crumples as every soldier calls him a stranger -- it’s a lot.

“What is even happening here?” Zen groans, fingers pulling at his face. “The dwarf knows something, but he won’t tell us.”

“He can’t tell us.” It comes out a little sharper than she intends, but -- it’s an important distinction. “He’s cursed.”

“Right,” he agrees absently. “But also he won’t let us help him, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Her hands clench on her lap. “It’s really n--”

“Can’t you just cast it on him anyway?” Obi asks, chin in hand, drumming his fingers on the table. “Then bingo-bango-bongo: the whole problem is solved.”

Her jaw drops. “I’m not going to treat a patient without his consent!”

Obi rounds on her, eyes incredulously wide. “He’s not real.”

That...is a good point, she’ll give him that.

“Well, he’s real to Lynet,” she informs him primly, setting her hands flat on the table. “And she would never.”

For a moment is mouth goes flat, annoyed, but then -- then it curls, Obi leaning casual on one fist. “I’m sure Beaumains could be persuasive.”

Her mouth wraps around the word, silent. The look he gives her is too knowing, eyebrows lifted in invitation, and she’s so, so tempted to ask just what kind of persuasion Beaumains might be inspired to do--

“Even if Shirayuki cast it, he could still resist it with a Will save,” Mitsuhide interjects, sending the moment skittering. “If he wanted to, at least. And then we’d be out of a spell slot.”

“If we’re stuck here, we should be focusing on the Big Bad anyway.” Zen settles back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably askew, like he’d just woken up. “Someone has to have said something interesting, right? And we’re not just thinking about it.”

Mitsuhide leans a chin in his hand, pondering the idea. “The head of the guard mentioned that a traveling caravan came through before this all happened.”

Kiki nods. “And the steward mentioned buying wood from traveling merchants. Probably the ones who supplied the logs with the Will debuff.”

Zen settles back, thoughtful. “So you think they were force to sell the wood?”

“They must have some leverage on them,” Mitsuhide agrees. “They didn’t mention any children--”

“Or maybe,” Kiki deadpans, “they were all bandits?”

Mitsuhide gapes. “But there were women in the caravan.”

“Oh my,” she hums, teeth flashing behind her lips. “You’re right. How silly of me. We all know a woman could never be dangerous, oh no.”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh?” Kiki smiles, and the room drops an entire degree. Shirayuki practically shivers in the chill. “It better not be.”

Shirayuki blinks, and between one moment as the next, Kiki stabs her pen into the table, leaving it quivering like a knife.

Izana huffs in annoyance. “Kiki, please. The table didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just between the leaves.” She shift her character sheets, and there it is: pen nib wedged perfectly into the crevice. With nothing more than a sharp tug, it’s back out again, twirling between Kiki’s long fingers. “Besides, it’s not like this is some family heirloom.”

“No,” Izana agrees, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Okay, aside from Princess Kiki’s love for violence, which, by the way--” Obi tosses her a wink, which absolutely does not send a jolt of disappointment spear through Shirayuki’s belly-- “hot. It looks like our only lead are these bandits.”

Mitsuhide grunts. “We don’t know if they’re bandits.”

“Fine, Schrödinger’s bandits,” he sighs. “We don’t--what?”

The table is quiet, wide-eyed -- even Izana -- and into the silence, Zen says, “You know Schrödinger?”

Obi huffs. “What? I go to college. I know memes.”

“Wow,” Kiki manages, drawling every letter.

“Anyway.” Zen wields the word like a knife, trying to cut through the distractions. “We should track down these bandits--”

Mitsuhide clears his throat.

“Potential bandits,” Zen amends, annoyed. “So while Shirayuki is tending to the people here, we can start canvassing the area.”

“Oh!” It slips out of her, like a punch to the gut. If she’s back at the castle, and Beaumains is out looking for bandits --

She shakes her head. That’s not what this game is about. It’s about saving her sister and having fun with her friends, not -- not practice flirting.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to take it back. Every eye at the table falls on her, and she squirms. “Um.”

“That isn’t very fair,” Kiki observes, dragging her gaze to Zen. “Shirayuki should get a chance to have an adventure too, not just heal in the background.”

“But we can’t take her with us.”

She hadn’t even minded being left behind -- Izana would give her something to do, and it wasn’t as if Lynet would feel strongly about bandit chasing -- but it stings, hearing it from his mouth. Zen had wanted her to be Gwenhwyfar, to be the one waving the handkerchief from the parapets. Instead she’d made Lynet -- an alchemist, an arcanist, an asset -- but even still he’s finding ways to keep her at Camelot, leaving her behind when the knights rode out.

Mitsuhide grunts, disapproving.

“She’s using her highest slots to do this curse thing,” Zen explains, and she gets it, she does, it just doesn’t help. “If we find the Big Bad--”

“--We should probably have our healer with us.” Obi’s mouth cants into a lop-sided smile, cajoling. “Come on, my liege. We don’t have to jump in the deep end the second we get a hint of where this guy is. We have plenty of time to give my lady here a heads up before we get ourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

He winks, and -- and maybe she’s just projecting, but it feels different from the one he gave Kiki. More...personal.

“Um.” Now is really not the time to blurt out, I’m more upset that I can’t flirt with your character, so she just nods, ducking her head so he can’t see her blush. “Okay! But I’ll need a day to swap out my spells.”

He’s just -- adjusting, she knows that, but his foot swipes right along the bottom of hers and every hair stands on end. Oh, goodness. “We’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Each day, more men awake from their stupors; three at a time, all of them disoriented, groggy. You had hoped that when you woke the healer, he would at least be able to ease your burden, but all the cursed are emaciated, their muscles atrophied to the point that they must be helped to the chamber pot and back. It is up to you to brew the potions, to cook the broth and, eventually, heartier stews to strengthen them.

And still there are more chores; small things: opening windows and keeping your stores stocked, organizing and documenting the treatment of your patients. Each day blends into each other, sleep only coming in fits and starts and never restful. Still, it is enough. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, hands doing what you ask of them, until --

Until one day they don’t.

Most of the men have not been moved from the great hall, though now, at least, there is room between them to walk, not just bodies laid haphazardly across the stone. It is not a situation you find ideal, however -- it is not feasible to move so many, and in their fugue state, few will care about privacy or proximity. However, those awoken few have been moved to more private chambers; the weft of the curse is thick, as fine a weave as any linen, and you suspect it does not allow any inference, either magic or mundane. Those who lay dreaming are free from any ailment save the caster’s making, but the others --

Well, that many men pressed so close is just tinder waiting for a kindling.

There is a way within Laxdo’s halls to reach the dormitories from the great hall, however, a quick dash through the courtyard’s arcades cuts minutes off a day that already has too few to spare. You hurry through, gaze set ever forward, laden with yet another heavy box of supplies.

Your mind is not on your day, of course. Oh no, it has long wandered far into stranger lands. The dwarf is what plagues your thoughts, for with every man that wakes, their eyes passing over him with barely more than a curious glance and no flash of recognition, he fades a little further. One day, you fear, you will turn to see he is little more than a shadow, a suggestion rather than a reality.

Whoever he is, he must be much changed. Perhaps he is knight, strong bodied and deep-voice; or perhaps he is truly only a boy, and --

Your heel catches, so hard that your teeth jitter in their sockets. It snaps your spine straight, feet staggering beneath you to balance both your weight and the box’s.

All for naught; the shock jolts like lightning through your limbs, and the moment you right yourself, the box slips from boneless fingers, straight to the stone below.

There is a moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Or at least, the last week, which has felt like a lifetime. On shivering fawn legs, you bend, touching each bottle and jar as if they were the saints’ bones themselves. It is not the first inventory you have done with your heart lodged in your throat, but it is certainly the one where you had the most to lose. After all, it wasn’t as if the people of Castle Perilous would rely on their young mistress alone.

Your breath huffs out on a sigh. Misfortune’s bony fingers have no hooks in your skirts today. Not one cracked jar or one broken seal.

You get to your feet, hauling the box into you arms, but -- but you are made suddenly and terrifying aware that you have not slept for days. The world swings in a mad carousel around you, and with the momentum of your lift and the weight of the box you tilt back --

But never hit the ground.

“Oh,” Zen groans, flopping back in his seat. “Come on. Really?”

“Oooh, master, you just wish you had moves like me.” Obi’s hips give a sultry swivel in his seat as he scoops up his natural twenty. It absolutely does not give Shirayuki any -- any ideas. The room is just unnaturally warm for a basement.

“Careful, smooth moves,” Kiki deadpans. “K-pop impressions and bad pick-up lines won’t save you from not investing in your health.”

Obi huffs out a laugh with one of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I don’t invest in nerd things like hit points, I invest in being cool, and I stand by that decision. Besides,” he says, pink flaring high on his cheeks, “my pick-up lines are great.”

“Name one that worked.”

“I dunno.” His shoulders hunch, defensive. “All of them.”

Kiki’s eyebrows lift. “On who?”

Me. Shirayuki catches the word in her teeth, swallowing it down. It’s not -- it’s not even true. Beaumains has been using them on Lynet, and Lynet is the one interested, not -- not her. They’re different people. Probably.

“You know.” He sniffs. “People. You don’t know them.”

If anything, Kiki’s brows only raise higher. “Hmm.”

“If we’re quite done speculating about Obi’s romantic prowess,” Izana interjects smoothly. “I do believe we’re in the middle of something?”

Heat blooms across your back, the way it would when you sat at the hearth, tilting a book so it might not lay in shadow. It smolders along your side, not like a bonfire, but a brazier, or even a bed warmer --

Ah, now there is a thought your father would not appreciate you having.

Your gaze is fixed to your supplies, but it takes you a long moment to realize you are not holding them. No, it is a steady hand over you, sheathed in black leather, and in one, delirious moment, you realize that bare indigo must be pressed into your back, hooking just so at your hip. He doesn’t even shake.

“Careful there, my lady.” The words rumble against your ear, too intimate in the cage of his chest. “Keep this up, and a man could get ideas.”

You lift your gaze, gold tangling with green, breath catching in your throat. He might have made a shoddy assassin, but as your protector, well --

“Do you think if it happens another time, you will believe it?”

He blinks, eyes as wide and gold as coins. “Believe what?”

With all the courage you can summon, you mimic his flirtatious smirk and say, “That I’m falling for you.”

If the birds still sang at Laxdo, then the air would not be so still, so silent. At it is, you could hear a pin drop, so long as it was louder than the throb of your heart.

In a single, staggering moment, you are back on your feet, and Beaumains shakes his head, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “You need to work on your delivery.”

Your jaw snaps shut. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the flirting type, my lady.” He shrugs, a smirk peeking out from behind his cowl. “Too earnest, I think.”

Blood boils in your veins, and you know he can see it on your skin when you say, “It does not seem fair that you may make love as you wish, but yet I cannot.”

He huffs out a laugh, sweeping a step closer. Oh, he smells...nice. Leather and pine with a hint of brimstone. “You know what I have and you don’t, my lady?”

“What?” You wish it wasn’t so breathless.

He leans in, and unbidden, your eyes flutter to half-mast. “Charisma.”

“Wait.” Kiki snags his sheet, sliding it across the table. “How on earth is your charisma higher than your con?”

“I’m a rogue-sorcerer!” Obi squeaks, snatching it back. “It’s my casting stat.”

“This is ridiculous,” she decides. “Are you planning on using it any time soon?”

He gapes. “I use it all the time!”

“I mean besides for bad pick-up lines.”

“How do you think I snuck up on Shirayuki at all?” He waves his hands. “Obviously magic!”

“I mean...” Kiki shrugs. “There is a stealth stat for a reason. A good rogue wouldn’t need Invisibility--”

He sniffs. “There’s just no reasoning with you, Princess.”

“I thought you were supposed to be bandit hunting.” The words come out breathless, and you wish you were like Morgaine, who never sounds as if anything bothers her at all, instead of -- of this. A girl ripe to be teased, since she can never wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve.

He looks out over the yard, eyes squinting into the distance, and it is a fine view for watching the smirk creep up the side of his face. “Seemed like my job was here, my lady.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, as suddenly and easily as if he had laid a hand over your heart. Still, you frown. “And you did not think to announce yourself?”

“You did well enough alone,” he tells you with a speculative glance, and the flash in his eyes makes you think he likes what he sees. That he is, perhaps, even a little impressed with you. “And anyway, it seemed like you understood well enough about hiding in plain sight.”

You do not miss the bite of censure in his words, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. He put space between you, but you close it as you say, “I am the only one who can do this work, I do not have the luxury of--”

“Peace, my lady.” He holds up his hands, as if he might ward you off like a bitch anxious over her pups. “I know well enough. Still...” He edges a step back, teeth flashing white against the dark of his face. “Should you not be wary of me?”

You stare, brows furrowed. “Wary? Has not Uther himself consigned me to your care?”

“That’s true enough,” he admits, hand raising to squeeze at his shoulder. An old injury must lay there, aggravated by the heavy weather. “Though I thought His Grace would fill your head with all sorts of things.”

“Things?”

“Speculations. Rumor.” He grins, sharp enough to cut, though it is not a blade faced outward. “Maybe even something close to the truth.”

“Beaumains.” You step closer, and he watches you now, not the quintain creaking in the distance. “I think my own thoughts, not those of Arturius. And I have never been wary of you.”

The arcade is so quiet, you can hear his breath rasp in his chest.

“Besides--” you let yourself share in some of his smile-- “I was the one who had you pinned.”

“My lady,” he protests, “I let you--”

“I think we can call this argument thoroughly explored,” Izana informs them. “Not that I do not enjoy the enthusiastic roleplay.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki chirps, hands clapping to cover her blush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No need.” You do not miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I think we all know it was your tanglefoot bag that did the pinning.”

“In any case,” you continue, perhaps a little forcefully, “you have proven yourself to be a man worthy of trust in my eyes.”

Beaumains stares, inscrutable. “My lady...”

Whatever words he means to say are lost; he folds his lips around them and the moment carries them away.

“My lady,” he tries again, more sure. “You’re wearing yourself down.”

“I am fine--”

“Perhaps His Grace--”

“I am fine,” you insist, sharper than you intend. “There is no reason to worry Arturius. So you might as well not.”

The silence between you itches, and when those golden eyes look at you, when they stare through you as if you were a specimen under glass, you want to squirm out of your own skin. “Who says I have to listen to anything you say?”

Uther. The name bubbles up, unbidden. You would have to be a fool to speak it; what passed between assassin and king is known by them alone. To pretend you know either of their minds would be a mistake of the rarest form.

Instead, you take a step forward, skirt brushing over the toes of his boots. “You owe me.”

His eyes narrow, thoughtful. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You do.”

He stares at you, and you know he remembers the same as you do: the botched assassination, him grabbing your wrists and pulling you under him, the way his skin had warmed so pleasantly against yours --

“Fine.” His gaze swivels away, chin turned so much your neck hurts just looking at it. “But...why keep it a secret, my lady?”

Teeth prick at your lips. You cannot just say, Arturius. Not when he has been so kind to you, when he has taken on this quest that no other would. But still, still -- you were barely allowed to come. If he were to know that you are weary, or weak, or, Father forfend, overwhelmed --

Well, you do not have to imagine what sort of behavior that might invite from His Grace.

“Because I can manage on my own,” you say instead, lifting the box from his hands.

Or at least, you would, if he would let go. “We’re only having this talk because you’re not managing, my lady.”

Ah, that is...a point. Your shoulders drop, grip loosening until it is once again only Beaumains that holds it. “I...”

“My lady?” You cannot meet his gaze, but you feel it on you, warm and inquisitive, perhaps even concerned.

“It’s only...”

He leans in. You can feet his heat against your skin.

“The dwarf,” you manage, a flush gathering at where your wimple meets your collar. “There’s something about him.”

“He’s short?” Beaumains offers, voice low, a pleasant rumble so close to you. “He’s cursed?”

Your mouth pulls thin. “That is not what a meant. However...” You shake your head, at a loss. “I only have this...this feeling. It is important that he be cured of his affliction. But...if he does not want to be saved before the others...”

Frustration tangles your tongue. If only you knew what words would convince him, what proof you needed to lay before him --

“Ah,” Beaumains sighs, mouth crooking into a grin. “Is that all?”

Izana blinks as his phone hoots at him, scanning the screen.

“Hm.” He sets it aside, laying it square on the table. “Obi, if you would come with me.”

Zen’s eyes narrow as they stand, gaze darting between them. “What are you doing?”

“Me and the big boss here have some business in hallway time,” Obi tells him with a grin even Shirayuki has to admit is insufferable. “Got a problem with it?”

He frowns. “Why do you need that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Obi skips around the corner of the stairs and is gone. The door above shuts with an almost jaunty click.

“Wha--?” Zen stares after him, sputtering. “That’s why I’m asking!”

It is quiet, for once. Only the moan of the wind outside and the scratch of your nib against parchment reach your ears, the crackle of the fire long faded into the background of your mind. It lulls you, the gentle sweep of your own hand, and you close your eyes -- just a blink --

Only to wake at the creak of your door.

“Lynet.”

You do not expect the prince to darken your door, not this late at night, but here he is, cloak dusted with snow, sword at his hip. He follows your gaze, and he seems shocked to find his blade there as well, as if he does not always keep it at his side.

“Arturius,” you say, rising to your feet. “I didn’t think to see you so late.”

“I needed to know something.” He sweeps a hand toward your bed. “Would you mind?”

You blink, and for a moment, he is a different man telling you to get to a bed, gaunleted hands reaching --

“Yes,” you gasp, shaking yourself. This is different. Arturius is a friend. You trust him. “Of course.”

Your legs dangle off the side of the bed, toes just brushing the floor, and he draws his chair up in front of you, holding your hand.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I’m going to count.”

“Are you taking my pulse?” His fingers are not in the proper place for such a thing. At your wrist is truly--

“Please,” he laughs. “Just trust me.”

You do, and so your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you are only aware of your breath, of his touch, and you --

Jolt awake, as the door flies open again.

“Beaumains!” Arturius snaps, dropping your hand as if it scalds. “What are you--?

It is only once he is in the room room that you can see -- there is someone behind him. A small someone.

The dwarf.

Beaumain’s smile stretches smugly from ear-to-ear. “Our friend here says he’ll do it.”

“What?” Zen squaws, glaring daggers at his brother before settling back on Obi. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Obi grins, hooking his hands behind his head. “Get the job done?”

“Intimidate him!” He waves a hand vaguely towards the head of the table. “He’s our friend!”

Obi blinks. “Izana?”

“No, not -- I mean the dwarf!” He lets out a huff. “Izana is definitely not our friend.”

“Brother.” Izana presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re like Rasputin,” Zen tells him. “You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t intimidate either of them.” Obi darts a glance at her, hooking her with a grin. “I just used my raw charisma.”

Kiki groans. “Go home.”

“Are you certain?” You glance at Beaumains behind him, but there is no menace to the man, just an unseemly amount of gloating. “I will not force you.”

The dwarf hesitates, wringing his small hands over his belly, but in the end he nods, meeting your gaze with a confidence that is wholly new. “I am ready, my lady.”

Your hand shakes as his fingers cup the rounded bottom of the flask, as he pulls the glass from your grasp, and with a deep, steeling sigh, upends the entirety of the potion into his throat.

“Oh!” The sound hiccups out of you, and though you’ve worn a groove in your voice the shape of the warnings you give each time, they tangle in your mouth. It is too late to say, drink slowly, to say, stop if it does not feel right, and oh, you are usual say this to a man prone, insensate --

And yet, nothing happens.

It takes time, you know. Your palms itch, eager to reach for your notes, to see if this was too long an interval, if this was a sign that this geas was worse, that the caster was fighting your remedy --

A muscle twitches. The dwarf blinks, raising his hand -- his hand that is now large, now small, that cannot decide its size at all, which is fine since his whole body follows suit, growing and shrinking. His shoulders rounds as his spine stretches, as if he’s hit a wall, some sort of barrier --

And it shatters, like an egg’s shell, his body growing well beyond its confines, the proportion of his limbs and face changing, until --

“Oh!” You whirl around, putting your back to him. “Oh my!”

“Ah,” the man says, his voice reedy, yet not as high as you remember. “I had hoped that this might be better done.”

“Here.” Arturius tosses one of the sheets from the cots. “Cover yourself.”

“I thank you,” the man says, humiliation riding high in his tone. “My lady, please forgive me, I did not think--”

“You...you are--” it is hard to find the words with your cheeks as hot as this -- “you are the lord of Laxdo’s son!”

He lets out a single, pained laugh. “I am afraid I am more than that now, my lady. I am Laxdo’s lord.”

“But--”

“Arturius!” Bedwyr sweeps into the room, ragged. “The men are all waking!”

“Wait, wait.” Shirayuki shakes her head, brow furrowed. “I removed his curse, and now everyone is healed?”

Izana lifts a hand in a lazy shrug. “So it would seem.”

“But...but...” She swivels, fixing on him. “But he didn’t want to be turned back! He wouldn’t let us, not until--” Shirayuki stops, her brain rushing to put the pieces together. “That was part of the compulsion. He wouldn’t let the curse be broken so that we -- so that I--”

She groans. “We could have done this in a day.”

“Welcome to Izanafinder,” Kiki deadpans. “He may not kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead.”

“My name is Shuuka,” the man says, better settled with the sheet around his hips. You still keep finding the wall just over his left shoulder fascinating. If only Bedwyr would be faster at locating the young lord’s costume. “I must admit, I had hoped you might remember it, my lady.”

You grimace. “I am...very bad with names. My father often despaired of it.”

And as in all his wishes, it bore very little fruit. 

“I think I remember that.” He laughs, weary. “It is no matter. I am in your debt regardless.”

“Pray, do not think on it,” you tell him, even as Arturius grunts. “I would not have a soul beholden to me.”

You do not miss Beaumain’s cough, nor the amused way he watches you from the door. Doubtlessly, he would find time to say his piece on that, but it will not be now.

“But, my lady--”

“What would help us most would be if you told us what happened,” Arturius says, oddly strangled. “Since you are the only one that seems to remember.”

Shuuka blinks, as if he had forgotten his prince sat mere steps away. “Of course. I shall explain it all to you.”

“That would be--”

“But first.” He slips his hand around yours, smiling shyly. “We must celebrate how you have saved us.”

“Oh,” you breathe, gaze flying to Arturius. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I do not think--”

“Please, give me this,” Shuuka insists. “A banquet in your honor.”

You do not look at him, but you can feel Beaumain’s grin as a palpable touch. “Truly, it is not necessary. It was all of us who--”

“Ah yes, then in all your honor!” He squeezes your hand, and gives you a boyish smile that sends you straight back to girlhood. “All the men have been healed, and it would do them good to have a night of merriment.”

You cannot refute it would raise morale. Which would be much needed, once they took in the state of Laxdo’s disrepair. “I suppose...”

He leaps to his feet, thankfully taking the sheet with him. “Then a banquet it is!”

Shirayuki buries her face in her hands. “Oh my.”

“Oooh,” Obi croons. “Looks like you got some competition, my liege.”

Zen frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

[momtemplative]

Two Cans and a Very Long String.

(All photos from History.com. Fox photos/Getty images)

<<Author’s note: I’m remembering what happens when I make a commitment to write every week. Sometimes the words flow fluid and without obstacles, and sometimes, well, they really don’t. Such is the case with any new practice; it takes time to find a groove. 

Meanwhile, god-forsaken Caronavirus concern is permeating everything in our day-to-day world system right now, so writing about anything else feels vacuous and out-of-touch. But sitting down to write something on the current pandemic from a ‘unique’ (ha!) perspective (in a way that does NOT inspire the reader, or myself, to want to go and commit suicide) is a challenging task. I know I didn’t nail it, need more time to nail it. But here is a start...>>

I was lying in bed a few nights ago, in the drowsy place between awake and asleep that brims with lucid visuals. I was thinking about mothers, specific mothers from long ago, who lived through their own versions of ruthless and lethal pandemics—Black Plague, Scarlet Fever, Spanish Flu. The Big Ones. I could see these mothers in my mind, one after another, as they held their babies in stained swaddling clothes and rocked them in the dark.

It’s so easy to see these women from the past through the dusty, incompatible lens of time. (The Black Plague took place in the mid-fourteenth century!) But the Spanish Flu took place a mere century ago. There were light bulbs and phones and cars chugging down dusty roads. The Industrial Revolution was over and hygiene and sanitation were understood to prevent illness and disease. These were not the dark ages. My great-grandma, Emma lived through it. 

When I juxtapose her mother-life next to my own, I see that the world I live in may be evolved/evolving in states of everything from gender roles to technology, but does that brand of growth compete with a pandemic? 

If the view-lens we are using is that of simply mother-to-mother, though, I sense that our deepest, most unfeigned thoughts and feelings are universal. To clutch our babies close, to do everything in our power to keep them warm, fed, safe and loved—I bet even a mole rat mother feels those feelings.

So I lie there between my flannel bed sheets, on my right side, shoulder crammed into my ear as per habit, eyes closed like tiny projection screens, thinking of that.

In the time between sleep and morning, those thoughts percolated and wound up rooting someplace deep down. Alongside the catastrophic declarations that scream from every media device —”The coronavirus can't be contained! Are you ready??”— and the images of medical masks and quarantined crowds, I’m experiencing my own version of what-the-hell-is-going-on-here. Trying to keep one’s head on straight in the face of a litany of panic requires a full-time commitment to mindfulness. (Which, as far as I can tell, is a state of mind limited to gurus and saints.)  

The louder the commotion gets about the world’s impending doom, the more I feel a plumbed sense of longing rise from my gut like a military tank from over the horizon line. A yearning—yes, that is the word—to know what it was like for a mother one hundred years ago as she weathered far-worse conditions while continuing to care for her babies and her household. I want to know her. I want her to remind me of resiliency and the uncompromising strength of family and community. As four-year-old Ruthy says when there is something specific she wants to hear, ”SAY THE WORDS!” I want my long-dead great-grandma to tell me those words.

The pandemic we are currently facing feels like a very long string between two extremely far-off cans. (A telephone line though time, the Indigo Girls sang.) I can almost hear Emma’s quiet conversations with her husband while standing over a half-boiling tea kettle. Her middle-of-the-night prayers. Her timid reassurances to her young children, Harriet and Lewis. 

I sat down to do a light bit of research, hoping to fill in the cracked and pencil-sketched images of the landscape of 1918 in my mind. I attempted to time-travel through Google, searching, “Life during the Spanish Flu,” then “Parenting during the Spanish Flu.” I found jaundiced images of hundreds of hospital beds, lined up meticulously like cards in a game of memory. The white sheets rendered the individual bodies in each bed impossible to decipher. I stumbled on some photos of five young boys, in sooty, ill-fitting clothes, wearing camphor bags around their necks to ‘prevent the flu.’ There was one photo of a group of WWI military gurgling salt water in unison at Camp Dix . 

I soon realized that there was very little personal history that the tentacles of internet could reach. Nothing from day-to-day life. It was too far back. 

So I settled for history book-type content—The facts. Un-nuanced. Bone-dry and depressing. Apparently the Spanish Flu affected one-third of the world’s population. It was typical in that the mortality rate was high in children and the elderly, those with more vulnerable systems. What was NOT typical is that it also took down healthy, robust young adults. 

Oh what I would give for Emma’s journal of what it was like to keep her babies safe and alive. I need to know, if they were old enough, how much truth did she tell them? And what about the days, weeks, months held after the panic had cleared and the dust had settled. Had her insides changed at all? Did she retreat inward, become less trusting of the cosmos?

Mercy. From where I watch the panic swell around our current pandemic—COVID19—things look much less tragic than Emma must have had it. Foremost, regarding our flu, it seems children are being spared—only 3% are showing symptoms and, of that, only 2.5% are showing severe symptoms. Thus far, barely a sliver. It seems my Opal and Ruth will be spared this round. (Physically, at least.) I say that to myself like a prayer of gratitude. 

I wonder how many long days and nights Emma had to endure, unsure if Harriet and Lewis would be pardoned from the Spanish Flu. As one of the countless mamas who pioneered hell realms to carry evolution one more generation closer to my own—where I’ve lived quite comfortably and safe for forty-three years, mind you—she certainly warrants a few moments of consideration from her great-granddaughter.

Meanwhile, Ruth continues to pick her nose. (I have tried umpteen times to guide her hand gently from her nostril to the light of day, but it returns the moment I let go, as if spring-loaded.)

Meanwhile, Opal sang Ruth to sleep tonight while gently caressing her little sister’s nose with her pointer finger, the way you would do with the velveteen nose of a puppy.

Meanwhile, three brand-new-baby boys have been born in the last two months to people who are close to me.

Meanwhile, my money plant by the window is outgrowing us all.

Meanwhile, the time changed yesterday, throwing my ten-year-old into a tail-spin of exhaustion this morning.

Meanwhile, the bean seeds we planted last week have shot up, aimed at the window pane, as if attempting to upend their little roots and run free.

Meanwhile, the discord of the winter geese is still my favorite music.

Meanwhile, I have a multiple-week supply of mac and soups and oatmeal and peanut butter stowed downstairs, in case of quarantine. We figured we’d eat it either way.

Meanwhile, the sun still burns upwards. The deep-spring blue of the sky pays no mind to the humans who are hoarding sanitizing wipes below. 

Tonight is the full moon, the same moon that Emma gazed at out her window, a hundred years ago. It will hover on the surface of the nearby goose pond, like a coin that refuses to be pulled to the bottom of a wishing well.

March 9, 2020

[pilesofmyimperfections]

It can happen to anyone

It’s been an amazing year. The most incredible year of my life. I found my soulmate, my honey-love, my king, the man that I’ve been wishing for, for so long. We got married and we are having a baby, a baby that I never thought I would have though I dreamed of it, due to many fertility issues. And I am grateful, more than that; I am blessed.

It’s been an amazing year, but it was preceded by the most difficult years of my life. This incredible relationship that I am so grateful for now, I would not have without the one that preceded it, and the man that broke me. I would not know, to be grateful for all the little things my husband does to support me everyday, without the years of emotional abuse I endured before it. Little by little, day after day, year after year. For the first time, I’m going to tell my truth. For all the times he hung me out to dry, with his friends and his family. For all the times, he made me feel small, twisted situations, and used my scars as a weapon to manipulate me. For all the times I kept quiet while he humiliated me in front or friends and coworkers. For all the times, all the moments, all the years, I made myself smaller and smaller. For the fact that he admitted to everything, took responsibility and ownership for everything privately to me, and trashed my name publicly. I’ve decided I’m going to take some time to reflect, for the first time on paper and in public, for all of those who have asked me “why?” or asked “what even happened?” and I couldn’t bring myself to say the words or tell the story.

I wish I knew where it began. I wish I could, after all this time, pinpoint a day when things went bad. Or pick out the first time he manipulated me. Or comb out all the lies and the half truths from the whole truth. But honestly, over the five years we were together, I lost count. I lost count of the lies, the ultimatums, and the little insults that he used to tear me apart. I wish I could tell my loved ones, how I let myself get to such a place, that a man who treated me so poorly felt like the only thing I had in the world and the only thing I would ever have. I turned into someone I always swore I’d never be. I lied to my family and my friends, hid things from them, stopped answering the phone and stopped calling them back because, every time I would get yelled at for “airing our dirty laundry” or for “making me look bad” or for “making your friends and family hate me.”. But it wasn’t my dirty laundry and I didn’t make him look bad or make them hate him. It was his, it was him, he did that all on his own. He wanted to control others perception of our relationship, because the few times I did speak up to my family, they gave me strength to stick up for myself, reminded me who I was before him. He didn’t like that.

Somehow, every time he did something wrong, and I was hurt, he made me believe it was my fault. I never realized how much damage there really was, until I met the man of my dreams, and after months of being back in counseling, could only hold my ground until he said, “you’re right I’m sorry” and then I would break and cry and tell him I was sorry I never should have stuck up for myself. I wouldn’t believe he actually didn’t think it was my fault. Because for years, “I’m sorry” was followed by all the things I did to make him lie to me, or tell other women he hated me, or whatever terrible thing it was that he had done. For years, it was all my fault, and I believed that.

In the end, he was lying to me about everything. About how he’d been evicted from his apartment and was sleeping in his car when he told me he was at home, for over a month. About how he had abandoned our cats there for over a month without care, food, or water. About how he abandoned our things there, my clothes and some of my most cherished possessions. About how he was sexually snapchatting back and forth with women he didn’t even know from the Internet. He was even lying to me, about lying to me.

The night before I found out about all of that and so much more, the night before the made up world he built around me was burnt to the ground; we got home from work and he wanted to be sexually intimate, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I still had a nagging feeling in my gut that I couldn’t trust him. It was our agreement that we would not be intimate until he could be trusted, until he hadn’t lied to me, even over silly things for a while, and I felt safe. Well, that night he didn’t want to stick to that agreement. So he screamed at me. About how I was a piece of shit. About how he should leave my sorry ass for all the women who wanted to screw him and how much better looking they all were than me. About how I was a bitch and I made him miserable and drove him to drink all the time. About how he had worked so hard on himself. About how he deserved to be trusted. About how he couldn’t believe I could be so cruel and manipulative. It was that night, that I realized he had complete control over me. Because despite my intuition, despite the strength I had built up when we were apart, I found myself that night on my hands and knees begging him for forgiveness, begging him not to leave me, and promising I would get help because he was right, clearly there was something wrong with me. He looked me in the eyes, knowing he had been lying about his finances, his faithfulness, his living arrangements, his drinking, and he screamed at me for not trusting him. He berated me for hours, because I didn’t have any proof. He called me crazy and he made me believe it, knowing all the while, that I was not.

So when I found out, when there was a police officer looking for him at his work, as he was being brought up on charges for animal cruelty and abandonment for the state he left our cats in, though he had told me he was going to feed and care for them daily. I sat on my couch, staring at the text message for an hour, while he slept next to me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I went through his phone, searching for proof it wasn’t true, and found more proof of the contrary.

After that, everything was a blur for me, for weeks afterward. I walked through my life, surrounded by a fog made of my own shame. Shame and distrust of myself, that I didn’t see, couldn’t see what was right in front of me for so long. As red flag after red flag popped up, I ignored my intuition, my education, and the proof staring me in the face and I allowed him to continue to be in my life, or come back into my life, and manipulate me into believing him and only him. I couldn’t believe I let it happen to me. Looking back, I realized that last fight, was just like every fight we ever had. After fights, no matter if I did something wrong or not, usually not, I took the blame for it all. I walked with a shame cloud around me, as I let him publicly tell people that I was a crazy bitch who needed help and laughed. I let his friends tell me what a piece of crap I was. I never really stood up for myself, and when I did, I paid the price. I realized there were times where he laid hands on me, and I let myself be convinced that was my fault too. I realized I had been emotionally and near the end, physically abused. I couldn’t believe it happened to me. I blamed myself for that too. But the truth is, none of it was my fault. I didn’t “deserve” a single second of it. He admitted that to me privately, perhaps in an attempt to win me back, perhaps not. He apologized, but it didn’t help a lick.

But after counseling, meditation, and lots of healing, looking back, I know each moment had to happen. Every ounce of pain and every tear had to be felt. It made me stronger, in the end. But I wish I could’ve become the woman I am today without it, without him. I still, don’t believe he is a bad man, I believe he is a man in a lot of pain with a mental illness and he needs help. Help I pray all the time that he gets. He has a good heart, I didn’t love him for no reason, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so I send him my love and prayers from afar, and I hope he has the strength to heal. I hope he has the strength to stay sober and heal his wounds, so he can love the way I know he wanted to love, but couldn’t. I won’t tell every story. I won’t tell you his name. I won’t wish him ill. I will wish him nothing but the best in the future. I will have compassion for him. I will send him healing. But I will also, tell my sweet daughter this story, before she goes on her first date. I will tell her, it can happen to anyone. I will tell her, it happens over time. I will tell my story out loud and not feel shame or guilt, so other women know they are not alone. I will heal, and I will take steps forward even after the trauma comes up again and again. I will listen to songs that remind me I am not alone. I will be happy.

“Oh, but after everything you've done

I can thank you for how strong I have become

'Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell

I had to learn how to fight for myself

And we both know all the truth I could tell

I'll just say this is "I wish you farewell"

I hope you're somewhere prayin', prayin'

I hope your soul is changin', changin'

I hope you find your peace

Falling on your knees, prayin'”

[thesnapewecandreamof]

5 Times Albus Hugged Severus and 1 Time Severus Hugged Him

Let’s embrace the cliche. This is me practicing to write and what better way than to write guilty pleasures/ cliches?

Barely explained Bodyguard AU

Modern AU! Severus is a bodyguard tasked with protecting Tom Riddle’s biggest critic, Albus Dumbledore. Snapshots in no particular order. Kinda OOC.

1. Fortescue’s

- Severus was against this. Almost argued himself hoarse to Albus who wouldn’t hear of his worries. But the old man was insistent. And Alastor of all people caved.

- His grand son Harry Potter would be under his care for the fternoon and Albus absolutely had his mind set on taking the boy to Fortescue’s.

- Severus wanted to send a very angry note to the Potter Family asking what possessed them to send their five year old son to Albus Dumbledore, one of Riddle’s greatest political critics, when they needed an army of body guards just so Dumbledore can enjoy a stroll in his garden.

- Severus had Fortescue’s closed from the public. Albus wanted it to have people to give the child a sense of normalcy. They reached a compromise where security teams dressed as civilians and ordered ice cream. The agency covered it and they were very pleased but still vigilant.

- Severus was shocked when Albus insisted that he join them in their table. More so when Harry launched into a story about his school, including Severus in his questions and smiling at him-him- when he deigns to speak. 

- Many agents found themselves deeply amused when young Harry found Severus’ partially melted and barely touched sundae and deemed him needing ‘to be ice creamed.’ Meaning to say Severus had scoop of rocky road shoved to his mouth.

- By the time they were done Harry stood up and with his sticky and dirty fingers, hugged Severus, mumbling his thanks to the agent’s already stained uniform. Severus bit his lip and awkwardly patted the boy’s hair. 

- Albus, of course, hugged both his boys. Severus squaked out a protest but Albus saw the barely contained smile of the young man.

2. Apple Pie Life

- Albus was exiting the platform and moving to his car when it happened.

- Severus, always by his left and only a few paces behind suddenly sprang to action.

- A masked supporter of Riddle, “Death Eaters” people called them, nearly hit Albus in his already crooked nose with an apple pie of all things.

- Severus shoved them aside and let the others deal with them as he ushered Albus away.

- “You saved me again, Severus.” Albus smiled as the car began to drive. “They are getting quite creative.” He admitted beneath his breath.

- “It’s all about ruining your image, sir. If that had been successful you’d be the laughingstock of the world for the next four months at least.” Severus frowned at his mobile, already sending word to the others.

- “I do like apple.” Albus hummed as he picked at some crumbs that clung to his beard.

- “Don’t touch that, that can be laced with poison!” Severus slapped his hand when it strayed a little to close to his mouth.

- “The Apple Pie doesn’t really suit me, don’t you agree?” Dumbledore asked gesturing the crumbs clinging to him.

- Severus rolled his eyes at the old man who frowned as he brushed the crumbs from his beard, “Why do I even bother protecting your life?”

- “My Apple Pie Life?” Albus smiled as he found a rather big crumb within his beard.

- “You disgust me.” Severus growled.

- “Chin up, Severus. Perhaps you can have your own Apple Pie Life when this is done.” Albus said, pulling the younger an close to him.

- Severus took the offending arm away from his shoulder, “Unlikely.”

3. Tatoos

- A few weeks after Severus was assigned to be Albus’ bodyguard, the old man noticed things about the young man. How stiff his posture seem to be  when they were in the privacy of his office. How the young man can move with such grace every time he suspects an individual had ill intent to Albus. 

- And how he he seemed troubled ever since Albus invited him for tea a few days ago.

- Though Severus remained quiet, blending into the background, Albus knows he need only ask and Severus would answer.

- “I was reluctant with this arrangement myself, nearly had Alastor check himself to a clinic.” He said as he enjoyed some scotch by the fireplace, his companion holding a mug of coffee with both hands.

- He was, of course, referring to their current arrangement, a body guard always by Albus’ side to go with a more subtle security.

- “Nearly dragged him there myself actually. For someone who’s motto is “Constant Vigilance”, he doesn’t seem very vigilant back then. Must be losing his touch.” Severus scoffed.

- “I trust Alastor with my life.”

- “Clearly. Not the best decision you made in the past year.” Severus murmured.

- “I beg to differ, my boy.” Albus grinned.

- They took their time talking about the latest blunder of Tom Riddle. They talked about many things from agency gossip to Albus’ distant family. When Albus stood up, Severus did as well. Albus grabbed Severus’ left arm precisely where he knows a tattoo lay hidden.

- “I know you once supported his cause, Severus.” The old man said softly.

- “Then I shall report to Alastor tomorrow and say that you need a new body guard.” Severus replied in the same calm tone he always used.

- “I hardly think that’s necessary, my boy.”

- “Sir?”

- I said once, did I not? You no longer follow his beliefs.” He smiled at the troubled young bodyguard. So mature yet so naive.One of Severus’ most interesting features to Albus.

- It wasn’t a question, and yet-

- “I could be a spy sent to kill you. To gain your trust, to assassinate you in your sleep, why-”

- “Then who better to protect me than one who knows the enemy so clearly.” He squeezed the arm not unkindly. And Severus looked at the hand grasping his arm. “Alastor didn’t know.” He admitted, “He did a background check on me and yet he didn’t know, he was suspicious, his gut really is something, but he didn’t know I followed him-”

- “I see where your distrust in Alastor comes from.” Albus’ eyes searched Severus’ and when he found what he was looking for he let go of the arm and nodded, the twinkle once again twinkling brightly in his eyes. No need for Severus to know everything after all.

- “Albus, these past days, I...” Severus trailed off, not quite sure what to say. “I was thinking about handing in my resignation actually, I can’t...well... but apparently you know and-” 

- Before Severus can even blink, Albus spun around and wrapped him in his arms. “That is no longer who you are, Severus. We can talk when you are ready but remember this-”

- Albus pulled back and smiled at the young man before him, “I trust you with my life.”

4. #Mood

- “You’re trending.” Severus muttered, throwing his phone to Albus’ desk so he could see.

- “I’m what?”

- “Don’t play the senile old fool, you know what you’re doing.” 

- Albus grinned, “Clever, isn’t it my boy? Just a few words, just a little smile in the camera, a few gestures and I’ve become an internet star!”

- “A meme more like it. The internet is as helpful as it is destructive.” Severus scowled. “This is where the Apple Pie incident was heading to.”

- Albus chuckled and scrolled down before chuckling once again. “It seems you’ll be trending alongside me, my boy.” 

- “What?”

- “Some child zoomed in and caught your expression when I-”

- “When you embarrassed yourself doing an outdated meme!” Severus scowled as he took his mobile from Albus. “Dear God, just what I need. My face plastered all over the internet, might as well paint a target on my back and my forehead.”

-Albus snatched it back again before beaming, “The moment your soul leaves your body when your father embarrasses you.” “Mood.” “When will the government stop your sinful hands” My they are quite creative aren’t they, though the last one should refer to Tom-”

- Severus grabbed his mobile back, hiding his face that have gone quite red. He began pacing the office.

- “You have no idea what motivated teenagers are capable of. They’ll find my name within the hour if i don’t do anything about it, I-”

- “There’s only one thing to do then.” Albus said in a somber voice as he stood up and reached for his bodyguard, he trapping Severus in a one-armed hug. “what is it, Albus?”

- “Smile for the camera Severus, let’s take a selfie!”

5. Birthday

- “Look Albus, you might be the person I am assigned to protecting, you cause your security detail needless headaches, you’ve helped my face become one of what the kids call “a mood”, you’ve been attacking Riddle ceaselessly for years, you insist on being out in public, thus in danger, as much as you can, you’ve managed to befriend one of the most anti-social beings in the agency, you’ve gotten me to talk about my time with him, and despite me being the one supposed to protect you, I couldn’t help but feel protected whenever you and I are together. Odd, isn’t it? You insist on invading my personal space and yet you know when to give me distance. You insist on including me to your family outings, little Harry calls me uncle and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. You’ve given advice to me even though I never asked for it. You’re like-”

- Severus looked up from his coffee and found Albus staring at him.

- “Was that too much? Albus? Is it your lemon drops? I did say to avoid sucking on them when someone is speaking and-”

- “No.” Albus sighed, “No Severus, go on.”

- “Well, you’ve dampened the mood. Minerva did say that a few words were needed when greeting someone for a birthday so blame her. I suppose, well, Happy Birthday Albus.” He finished lamely, about to lift his coffee for a mock toast when he felt being hugged once again by the man he was supposed to protect.

- “Thank you, Severus.”

- “Yes, well. Someone may have spiked my coffee so don’t look forward to anymore heartfelt speeches next time.”

- “Pity. May I receive a hug from you then?”

- “My present was the sweets and that frankly embarrassing speech.”

- “Next year then.”

- “If we’re both alive by then you old coot.”

+1 This is a hug, right?

As Albus’ attacks on Tom Riddle became bolder, so did the level of his security. Severus, always by his left and a few paces back, stood by him as he delivered his latest speech.

After this was another meeting and then planning, and finally their daily chat by the fireplace just before bed. They had an interesting game of chess they had to continue later. Severus was sure he was losing but Albus admitted being worried about his winning streak.

Being assigned as Dumbledore’s bodyguard has been the best thing that happened to him in years. He was uncertain at first, worried that he’d have his reputation ruined once Albus found out his past with Riddle. But he was still accepted, trusted. So he did his job. 

He doesn’t remember when Dumbledore became Albus. He doesn’t remember when polite tea together became tradition among friends. He doesn’t quite recall the first time Albus referred to him as his boy. It was curious.

More curious is Severus almost wanting to reciprocate Albus’ warmth towards him, it was only fair, wasn’t it? 

Quite odd. His own father never paid Severus this much attention, odder still that the body guard sometimes had the need to impress Dumbledore, very much like a child wanting praise for drawing a horrible picture.

But then Severus saw something glinting at the distance. He did his job.

He heard Albus give a cry as one bullet hit him in the shoulder despite Severus covering him. He heard people screaming, the other security opening fire. Severus tackled Albus to the ground.

He loosened his hold on Dumbledore to make sure the man didn’t have any fatal wounds, he saw the blue eyes wide in horror. Severus was going to ask but then something stopped him from breathing. He choked and coughed, blood spilling from his mouth and oh. That’s why.

He’s unaware of how many round were lodged in him. His strength waned and he fell on top of Albus, apologizing beneath his breath. He tightened his hold and laughed at his luck.

“This counts as a hug, doesn’t it?” He whispered as he felt hands ghosting over his back. He hears screams, he hears Albus, he hears the crowd, but they were faint. Like he was underwater.

As people dragged Albus away, as they turned him over and carried him to an ambulance, he stared at the blue sky above. Albus was reaching for him--

Albus always wins in their chess matches, Severus was sure he didn’t mind winning by default..

Note under cut

This is a challenge for myself because imposing deadlines on yourself is fun! Anyone wanting to see a particular scenario/cliche/guilty pleasure don’t be shy and ask away!

The WeCanDreamOf will be composed of seven one shots (or more, depends really) to help me practice writing(and get rid of plot-bunnies haunting my waking hours) Anyone wanna join in with their guilty pleasures/cliches involving Snape can, just be sure to tag me because you all know how I love reading about Snape and his shenanigans!

(Definitely not an excuse to tag my guilty pleasures as guilty pleasures)

[pollenallergie]

What do you think V is most into, like sex wise? Not necessarily his darkest kink or smth but if you two had the day and the whole house to yourself, how would he most likely want to spend it? (Okay, I lied. Additionally, what do you think is his most secret kink, like, smth he only tells you once you guys really trust each other?) hope you don't mind me, I'm just thirsty today and not very creative myself, ily!

1) hi ily 2 babe, sorry it took me so long to respond I’ve just been pretty busy.

2) as for his kinks…. holy moly do I have a few ideas. so let’s just jUmP into it (sorry didn’t mean to go all Philly D on ya).

First of all, he definitely has a cum denial kink, as @ill-skillsgard has mentioned previously. He loves begging you to let him come when you take control, but even more so, he’s obsessed with you begging for him to let you come (or really just you begging for anything, honestly). He also 100% has a daddy kink, but I feel like it is a very limited kink, like it only turns him on when someone special says it (not just some random person on the internet or some random hookup). Speaking of, I imagine his daddy kink isn’t one he’s always known about, meaning it took a special experience to help him discover it. So, without further ado, here is how I think that sort of experience would go with him (sorry that's the weakest transition of all time lol):

One night you were feeling particularly small, but due to your shyness, you didn’t really have the guts to tell Valter how you felt. You see, you’ve known for a while now about your daddy kink, discovering via experimentation your freshmen year of college, but you had never brought it up around Valter before. This was mainly because you were scared it would disgust him or that he would make fun of you for it, which, seemingly, wasn’t a very outlandish assumption, seeing as, on multiple occasions, you had witnessed him scream “I’m not your fucking father” to his twitch stream viewers after one of them called him daddy in the chat. This led you to believe that it just wasn’t his thing, so you stifled that desire, burying it deep within you, not ever wanting to bring it up due to your fear of rejection and humiliation. 

However, on that one night, you couldn’t help yourself. You had been needy for V all day and you practically pounced on him when he got home from the gym, not even waiting for him to set his stuff down first. He immediately got the idea and swiftly discarded his things before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. Once you got to your shared bedroom, he gently tossed you on the bed before shutting the door in order keep out his pets, not wanting them to ruin the moment. 

“Will be done in a minute, babies,” You called out to the animals, causing V to laugh loudly. You couldn’t help it, your heart all but broke at the thought of them feeling alone and neglected out there. 

“They’ll be fine,” He said somewhat teasingly before taking his shirt off and joining you on the bed. 

“You are wearing way too much clothing,” V mumbled before taking matters into his own hands. He carefully took off your sweater, grinning smugly once he realized that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He then placed a quick kiss in the valley between your breasts before sliding his hands down to your waist, stopping at the waistband of your sweatpants. He swiftly pulled them down, admiring your legs while doing so. He then threw them onto the floor carelessly once they were completely off of you. He then looked back up at you, smirking and enjoying the view in front of him.

“No panties either, hm, someone’s needy today,” V said and you shyly nodded in response. 

“That makes two of us,” He replied before sitting up on his knees and slipping his pants and briefs (again homeboy is 100% a briefs guy, I feel it in my soul, and if he’s not, then he shouk=ld be. imagine how hot that butt would look in briefs bfsdshdnvsadchm) in one fluid motion, carelessly tossing them to the side just as he had done with yours. He then leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours and aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping his hand down between your thighs, gently strumming his fingers over your slit, smirking once he realized just how needy you were.

“Oh honey, you’re soaked. Is all this for me?” He asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

“Always,” You replied softly as you began to run your hands through his soft, blonde hair. He then ducked down, connecting his lips with yours. You kissed him hungrily causing him to smile into the kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours once again.

“You ready?” He asked, his intense eyes bore into yours as he patiently awaited his answer. You merely nodded in response, causing him to smirk once again.“Good,” was all he said before he rammed into you, barely giving you any time to adjust before beginning to thrust in and out of you at an overwhelming pace, causing you to moan loudly as you desperately clung to him. 

“Fuck, I always forget how tight you are,” He mumbled before groaning and dropping his head forward to rest in the crook of your neck. You smiled as you began to hear soft moans coming from your love, recalling how he once drunkenly admitted to you that you were the only person he’d ever slept with that could turn him into such a whimpering, moaning mess in just a matter of minutes. Your grin soon softened as your jaw fell slack at the feeling of his fingers tracing circles on your clit as he continued to thrust into you. 

“Faster,” you gasped, wanting so much more. He then began to snap his hips into you more violently, his cock now thrusting in and out of you at a much faster pace. You gasped at the feeling and began to dig your nails into his shoulders which you had been tightly gripping onto this whole time. He then reached up and grabbed one of your hands, pulling it down to rest on his ass cheek. You smirked, moans still spilling out of your mouth, as you began to kneed the flesh beneath your fingers. 

“I’m so close,” you whined in his ear as he continued to ram into you, his fingers now toying with your clit in a much more entrancing manner. 

“Not yet, baby,” he growled into your ear causing your moan louder. You knew cum denial was his thing, but god did you hope that he’d go easy on you this time.

“Please,” you begged, the sensations of him toying with your sensitive bud and ramming his cock deep inside you becoming too much to handle.

“You gotta earn it, baby,” he replied before beginning to kiss your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin a bit, wanting to leave his mark on you. 

“Daddy, please,” you whined, your eyes going wide as soon as you realized what you said. You were shocked that V’s actions hadn’t ceased, but even more so when a small whine left his mouth.

“Oh fuck, say that again, baby,” he begged.

“Please, daddy, let me cum,” You begged, still nervous to say that aloud. He then groaned loudly, quickening his pace even more as he muscled tensed. 

“Daddy’s so close, babydoll. Are you gonna be a good girl and cum with daddy?” Valter asked you breathlessly, removing his head from your neck so he could look into your eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as your mind registered what he had just said to you. You were surprised, to say the least, it was like you had unleashed a new side of him. V had always been the dominant one, for the most part, but he was even more so right now, and that drove you wild. 

“Yes, daddy,” You said, feigning innocence, wondering what effect that might have on him.

“Holy shit,” he whined as his hips snapped rapidly, his cock thrusting in and out fo you with an animalistic ferocity. 

You reached your climax first as a result of Valter’s ceaseless actions and sudden kinky banter, his own not far behind. The feeling of your walls tightening around him, the whimpers you and moans you released as your orgasm ravaged through you, and the sight of you writhing beneath him sent him over the edge and soon enough you felt his cock twitch inside you before the feeling of his warm cum spilling into your cunt took over. 

It wasn’t long before V’s thrusts began to slow and eventually come to a halt, the two of you beginning to come down from your highs. You both gasped for air as V pulled out of you and rolled over, now laying next to you. He then turned his head to look at you, grinning before gently pulling you so that you were now laying on top of him. 

“The things you do to me, princess,” Valter said in amazement before sighing contently. 

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” you teased, smiling up at him. 

“Neither did I, babygirl,” he sighed causing you to giggle. 

this is gonna be part 1 of 2 (or possibly more, idk yet) because if I tried to fit everything into one post it would be way too long so I will address more kinks in part two because ooohhhh lord I imagine him having quite a few. 

[voidendron]

The Outside: Chapter 53

Series Ask Blog: @asktheoutside​

I forgot I had this saved to drafts. I'll just have to post it to here without editing, and hope I get Internet back soon so I can also put it on AO3 and FanFiction. This is getting annoying. :/

Chapter 53: Driving Lessons Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Manipulation

March 23, 2031, 11:22 AM Los Angeles, California

“No, no, no! That is fucking deathtrap on two wheels! You are insane if you want me driving it!”

“The guy don’t even know how t’drive a car. He’ll fuckin’ kill himself on Wheelie.”

“You named the bike?!”

“Then teach him with Box first. ‘Least she can’t buck him off.”

“Come on, Mare! Box ain’t no fun.”

“What do you say, Hen?”

“I told you not to call me that!”

Natemare made a face as he snatched the motorcycle helmet from the doctor’s hands. Schneep could only return the expression. The difference in height between the two was almost laughable, but the Sharp stood his ground; helmet propped on his hip and a scowl in place as he looked up. Schneep was the first to break; scoffing good-naturedly. Mare had taken some getting used to but really, he thought the Sharp was similar to Edward in some ways. Sarcastic, cocky, but easy to get along with if you weren’t a reckless dumbass.

Adjusting the lapels on his new lab coat and scuffing his boots over the ground, he kicked a loose bolt toward the mechanic who had simply watched the ordeal with a brow raised. She was leaning back against the bike in a way that made Schneep worry she was going to tip it over, but he then figured she wasn’t actually putting any weight on it. He’d learned her name was Dottie, and that she was the Devil’s head mechanic.

“I trust this ‘Box’ more than Wheelie. What is it?”

“Big brown van. Ugly as hell, can’t hit speeds over fifty, and always sounds like she’s about to fall apart. But,” he drew the word out, shifting his weight to the other foot and the helmet swapping sides with the motion, “she’s reliable despite the sounds of things. Easy handling, and great for driving lessons, even if she’d suck as a getaway car.”

“Getaway car?”

The Sharp waved it off, and Schneep arched a brow.

“Where’s Box at?” Natemare asked instead.

The mechanic tapped her chin thoughtfully and Schneep half-wondered if she even knew, before, “Garage C. Think they were using her to transfer groceries there or somethin’?”

Needless to say, Schneep did not know how to drive when they finally got out to the site. Dottie tried, she really did. Pointing everything out from the passenger seat, seeming unending in patience as the van jerked and swerved and stopped so suddenly they might as well all have whiplash by the time they stopped. Natemare had wound up with a bloody nose after being thrown into the back of the doctor’s seat, and then proceeded to be thoroughly scolded by said doctor for not wearing his seat belt like the other two.

Overall, it wasn’t going well. They could only be glad they’d chosen a patch of ill-used road far out of the city for the lessons, or there would have definitely been tickets involved.

“Oh my god, no! Don’t use both feet! What the fuck?” The mechanic started laughing while Schneep struggled between the brakes and gas. Don’t use both feet? But there were three fucking pedals, and he didn’t even know what the third one was for! “No, no, no. Just your right foot. Switch it between the pedals as you need to.”

He could hear Natemare snickering right behind him, but any time Schneep glared into the rear view, the Sharp would duck out of view behind the Septic’s seat. “Do you want to drive?” he growled. Their laughter was making it a lot harder than it had to be.

“I’m a lot better than you!”

“Agh! Dottie!”

“Oh my god you two are like children. And there were seriously no vehicles where you’re from?”

It was still taking Schneep some getting use to that the humans working for the Devil were aware of the Egos. Made it easier working alongside them, but… After months of trying to hide from humans, it took some adjusting.

“Of course there were! Just not in many territories!” Schneep grumbled, “Is no use with the teleporters galore!”

Schneep could see the other Ego opening his mouth to say something (probably to argue since he was a teleporter, after all), and opted then to slam the breaks. Instead of words, Natemare made a wheezing grunt when the seat belt tightened around his chest as he jerked forward. Schneep really couldn’t help but laugh at the glare cast his way.

Dottie’s hands flashed up to the dashboard so she could steady herself, and Schneep heard both of his companions grumbling something to themselves.

“Just… You’re trying to tell him too many things at once. Do it step-by-step or somethin’.” Natemare rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’d kinda like to keep my head on my shoulders and I’m starting to think whiplash is gonna end up throwing it out the fucking window.”

The doctor could only snort at the look Dottie cast the other Ego. That’s what she’d been doing. The entire time. Step-by-step. Over and over. Part of the problem was Schneep’s annoyance with the damn vehicle. Gear shift? He was sort of getting the hang of it, but why were there so many positions for it? And there were too many things on the dash to pay attention to, and too many knobs in the middle, and too many things on the rode for one damn eye to pick up on as they zipped by. He couldn’t even see Dottie or the rear view or even the damn volume dials unless he turned his head enough to bring them into his left eye’s field of vision. It made him too tunnel-visioned for driving, dammit.

He could perform a surgery right in front of his nose, but everything moved too quickly in a vehicle. The van was too big, the lane seemed too small, and he kept hitting the shoulder on the side. The rumble strips were about to drive him crazy he’d hit them so many times.

“Hey, whoa! You trying to run us off the road?!” Dottie’s shrill cry made him flinch, jerk the wheel, and slam the breaks for the umpteenth time.

Natemare was rubbing at his chest where the belt kept digging into it as he leaned forward. “Henrik, it’s not that hard! What’s make it so difficult?”

The bantering from before was gone, along with any of the humor the doctor had been feeling not long ago. Now, he was just…frustrated. With himself, but still. “It is hard!” He brought his forehead down on the wheel a little more forcefully than he’d intended, the resulting honk sending him to bolt back upright. “I can’t fucking focus on everything at once!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try again,” the mechanic suggested, “but ignore Mare and go slow as ya think you need, yeah?”

By the time they’d finished for the day, Schneep still definitely wasn’t an expert, but he’d at least be able to say he…eventually…stopped hitting the rumble strips at the shoulder. As often. That was something, right?

The humor had slowly eased its way back into the van with Dottie behind the wheel to get them back to Garage A. Yes, that humor was mostly the other two teasing the doctor for his horrible lack of driving skills, but he was right back to laughing alongside them and taking his own jabs at the other Ego and even occasionally the human.

“Henrik, you almost ran us into a stop sign!” the mechanic laughed. “That’s the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do at those!”

“So I used the wrong pedal! That is what practice is for, yes?”

Dottie shook her head and snickered as she pulled up to one of the garage doors. Natemare leaned in from the back and waved his hand up; the door opened effortlessly in time with his hand. The human didn’t even seem to acknowledge the use of magic.

When Box rolled to a stop, the Egos crawled out so Dottie could return it to Garage C.

“I can’t wait to see you try riding Wheelie,” the Sharp grinned as he combed his fingers through disheveled hair. It was funny that it never had knots considering Schneep had never once seen the guy brush it. “I—oh—hey! Mad! The fuck you doing?”

For his size, Natemare sure had lungs on him. His sudden shout startled the doctor enough that he about jumped out of his skin.

Gaze following the Sharp’s, Schneep’s lip twisted into a disapproving frown. “MadPat, you are on bedrest! You’re going to pull your fucking stitches out!”

“Easy, Doc,” Mad gave a small wave as he leaned over the railing above their heads. At least he was only just outside the clinic so hadn’t walked very far. “Just needed to stretch my legs.”

“No, no, no,” the doctor grumbled as he made a beeline for the stairs leading up to the metal walkway, “you need rest is what you need! Come with—eh?” A sudden warmth was radiating from his pocket. But what could that… Oh, shit. He started cursing in German as he dug for the crumpled ball of paperboard buried in one of the pockets in his lab coat. No, no, no, no. That couldn’t be. Where was the card? Where the hell was the card?

When he found it and pulled it free of the confines of his pocket, it was glowing. It was glowing. Bright blue; the same bright, electric, sparkly blue as Marvin’s aura. Schneep could only stare wide-eyed at the object as panic settled into his gut. No, no, no, no. They couldn’t have… They hadn’t even been trying! They hadn’t been trying! Why was Marvin Tracking him now?! Why now? Why now, when he’d finally found his place? Why when he was finally happy?

Mad was staring at him like a deer in the headlights, lips parted with something he’d wanted to say and never managed to get out.

Schneep couldn’t find the words in English to tell the other what was wrong. They kept catching in his throat, or coming out in German to just make that expression plastered over Mad’s features even more confused. They couldn’t be Tracking him. They couldn’t. They couldn’t!

“Your ‘friends’ don’t actually want you back. You know that, right?” Mad asked as he stared down the card. Was it that obvious that’s what it was? “They’ll just drag you away from here and toss you aside again.”

He felt the air shift; smelled cigars as the Devil appeared at his side. Natemare must have gotten him when he noticed something was wrong. He still couldn’t find the words as he stared into the Iplier’s dark eyes. His tongue kept fumbling; his hands were shaking. Why were they shaking. Stop fucking shaking. Stop it!

“He’s right, Henrik,” the Devil murmured. His voice was soft like silk; his hands grounding as they moved up to hold the doctor’s wrists almost too tightly. “Your place is here. With us. You don’t miss them, do you?”

The scent of cigar smoke made him dizzy; it seemed heavier than usual, casting a haze around them. He could only make out the Devil’s eyes, and latched onto that one single thing that wasn’t swimming in almost nauseating ways. “Miss…them? No. Nein. Ich…” It hurt to think.

“Give MadPat your card.”

And he did. Why fight it? He didn’t…need to see the others again. No, no, they didn’t want to see him again. That’s what it was! So why would Marvin be..? He swallowed thickly, practically choking on the cigar smoke permeating the air.

“Your friends are here, now. Think of how you laugh with Natemare, and bicker with MadPat.” The Devil’s hands loosened as the doctor nodded. “You work here. You belong here. In Garage A, working as my most trusted doctor. Yes?”

Another nod. There was bright light at the corner of his vision. Yellow-orange and hot.

When the Devil released him and was gone with his aura, teleporting away, the doctor blinked at the light. Fire in the palm of Mad’s hand. Burning the card. The blue fighting with the orange; the orange winning out. Killing the blue. Swallowing it, suffocating it until it was forced to get smaller, and smaller.

Schneep could only watch as the ashen remains of the card fell through the other Ego’s fingers; through the grating of the metal platform and to the concrete below.

He belonged at the garage. Not with the Septics. And they couldn’t take him away now.

[marvelous-tunes]

Taylor Swift on 30 Things She Learned Before Turning 30:

I learned to block some of the noise. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. 

Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks.

I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body. I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy. I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix. I work on accepting my body every day

Banish the drama. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. 

I’ve learned that society is constantly sending very loud messages to women that exhibiting the physical signs of aging is the worst thing that can happen to us. These messages tell women that we aren’t allowed to age. It’s an impossible standard to meet, and I’ve been loving how outspoken Jameela Jamil has been on this subject. 

My biggest fear. After the Manchester Arena bombing and the Vegas concert shooting, I was completely terrified to go on tour this time because I didn’t know how we were going to keep 3 million fans safe over seven months... My fear of violence has continued into my personal life. I carry QuikClot army grade bandage dressing, which is for gunshot or stab wounds.

I learned not to let outside opinions establish the value I place on my own life choices. For too long, the projected opinions of strangers affected how I viewed my relationships... That stuff isn’t real. For an approval seeker like me, it was an important lesson for me to learn to have my OWN value system of what I actually want.

I learned how to make some easy cocktails like Pimm’s cups, Aperol spritzes, Old-Fashioneds, and Mojitos because…2016.

I’ve always cooked a LOT, but I found three recipes I know I’ll be making at dinner parties for life: Ina Garten’s Real Meatballs and Spaghetti (I just use packaged bread crumbs and only ground beef for meat), Nigella Lawson’s Mughlai Chicken, and Jamie Oliver’s Chicken Fajitas with Molé Sauce.

Recently I discovered Command tape, and I definitely would have fewer holes in my walls if I’d hung things that way all along.

Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on.

It’s my opinion that in cases of sexual assault, I believe the victim. Coming forward is an agonizing thing to go through. I know because my sexual assault trial was a demoralizing, awful experience.

When tragedy strikes someone you know in a way you’ve never dealt with before, it’s okay to say that you don’t know what to say. However, it’s not okay to disappear from their life in their darkest hour. 

Vitamins make me feel so much better!

Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people?

After my teen years and early twenties of sleeping in my makeup and occasionally using a Sharpie as eyeliner (DO NOT DO IT), I felt like I needed to start being nicer to my skin. 

Realizing childhood scars and working on rectifying them. It’s important to address our long-standing issues before we turn into the living embodiment of them.

Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it.

Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories.

Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella.

How to fight fair with the ones you love. Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers.

I learned that I have friends and fans in my life who don’t care if I’m #canceled. They were there in the worst times and they’re here now. The fans and their care for me, my well-being, and my music were the ones who pulled me through.

I’ve had to learn how to handle serious illness in my family. It’s taught me that there are real problems and then there’s everything else. My mom’s cancer is a real problem. I used to be so anxious about daily ups and downs. I give all of my worry, stress, and prayers to real problems now.

I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true.

 I make countdowns for things I’m excited about. Even if they’re not big holidays or anything, it’s good to look toward the future. Sometimes we can get overwhelmed in the now, and it’s good to get some perspective that life will always go on, to better things.

I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans.

I’m finding my voice in terms of politics. Invoking racism and provoking fear through thinly veiled messaging is not what I want from our leaders, and I realized that it actually is my responsibility to use my influence against that disgusting rhetoric. I’m going to do more to help. We have a big race coming up next year.

I learned that your hair can completely change texture.  From birth, I had the curliest hair and now it is STRAIGHT. It’s the straight hair I wished for every day in junior high. But just as I was coming to terms with loving my curls, they’ve left me. Please pray for their safe return.

My mom always tells me that when I was a little kid, she never had to punish me for misbehaving because I would punish myself even worse. I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.

ELLE US (x)

[mysamcedesmadness]

Steerio Hearts Stuff & Stuff

White Devils and the Demons They Serve (Chs 15-17)

I was gonna do two seperate posts, but you two are the ones who do most of the reading and y’all actually read EVERYTHING, so I figured, even if it’s as long as a chapter, y’all would’ve read it anyways.

@sweetiedee85

Stevie can’t even sniff his fingers with Bukowski breathing down his neck. What is Bukowski up to with Cheerio? 

I. Am. Still. Crine. Over this comment. That is all. (Because, you just found out in Ch 17 what Bukowski was up to.

But I guess it’s the devil you know versus the devil you don’t.

Even though this is regarding Tesla, this is actually a fantastic summary of most of the characters in this story, hell - in the series. People often accept what their life seems to be instead of fighting for what it can be. That DEFINITELY happens in the context of having a mental illness, because everyday life can be overwhelming enough, so taking extra risks and chances are sometimes astronomical.

What’s sad is they would rather do that than come see their child. Time is more value, and we see they don’t care enough to spend any with her.

The Robinsons are the worst. I just have no other feedback of them for right now. Radja more than Champ - but they are a team and that team should’ve included their daughter and never does. In fact, I have a little arc that involves Radja coming up shortly and yes, she’s just the worst in it. 

But then those dang nightmares and training haunting the poor guy. I know it’s something he struggles with even after their married. He has triggers, and they usually lead to him growing and learning something different about himself and the way he views things. It seems that this is only the beginning of that journey.

Stevie sometimes suffers from psychosis, so he’s forgotten a lot of things that he’s been exposed to, because his brain was just unable or unwilling to process the trauma - much like his breakdown after Mary died. This is why later he still has repressed memories punching him in the gut and why it’s important to him to be a realist. He seems like an asshole a lot, for “Just being realistic,” but he knows himself (particularly after he’s out) and he just wants to make sure he’s trying to assess things normally and naturally, so that he doesn’t unintentionally wind up in a state of psychosis... Now, WE know that sometimes, it’s going to happen, anyway. But, these glimpses into his episodes are here for me to try to explain why Stevie is such an “asshole,” OUTSIDE of his racism. That’s a completely different issue which I’d never justify. Lol.

I do wonder if Tesla wants this footage. I doubt Bukowski has any good in him so is it his self need to have every part of Tesla in his grasp, under his control? Will she be somehow grateful he’s gotten this back? Idk but just the thought makes me sicker.

Tesla does NOT want this footage, wants no part of this footage, was alarmed by Bukowski and Stevie even MENTIONING this footage, and has absolutely no need for this footage. This is primarily about Bukowski’s control, and also his fetish. He enjoys watching. He enjoys knowing things. It makes him feel powerful to know things and to be able to see things. She MAY be grateful that he’s gotten it, but honestly, she’s still suffering from the damage of the event. She knows that it has already been done, and whether or not there is footage, she’s already suffered and has to live with it. Be sick, be very sick. It’s meant to be deeply sickening.

Anyway, Stevie is out of control lol threatening Derek was un called for. We know at this point she’s the one exception to that word, and that’s recent so I wasn’t surprised when he said it. I thought Cheerio would at least consider turning down Stevie’s offer but nope lol She just as toxic in love as him, and she sees beyond his training. I doubt I could have it in me.

Stevie is often impulsive in his decisions, but sometimes, they’re premeditated. Sometimes, he thinks things out, knows that his decision isn’t great and does it anyway. He gets so much better about this as he ages, but Teenage Stevie is deeply territorial and no matter what he says, he feels like he owns Cheerio.

And, no ma’am. I can’t relate to her, in that regard. A chick called me “Kunta Kinte” in 2007. I tried to beat her with a beer bottle in her own trailer, had to get dragged out of there and brought home and I still will call her a bitch, if I see her today.

  Angelwings

Ok... Who is Bukowski even using to make Tesla (Ally) jealous? I mean agh.

This had me cracking up SO HARD. You would be surprised the kinda pink dick pandering out there on the innanets. Whenever I had a successful porn blog, right here on Tumblr, I seen some shit. And there are folk less attractive and less charming that can somehow manage to get little sex games going with people, especially if they’re in a fetish niche (which gingers are).

ok so Tesla told her to have sex in the shower? If she's in the bathroom they accept verbal... side eyeing and looking all squinted eyed trying to imagine how they WON'T get caught.

This is because the orderlies won’t generally just burst into the bathroom while a resident is in the shower if the resident seems fine and is willing to peek out and show their face. They’ll only barge in if the resident seems off (trying to pretend that they’re fine) or is not responsive. They want to value their privacy to a certain extent, but not to leave them vulnerable, if they somehow got hold of a weapon or something.

It just goes back to what Stevie says to Sam. He has to constantly battle with his thoughts. At least he does that.

I touched on this a little bit with Dee. Stevie HAS to do this, to make sure that he keeps himself grounded. His triggers are so dynamic that they literally take control of his mind, for a time. He wants to not have to experience that, and he never wants to hurt the people he loves because of some type of break.

Hmm so Dani is trying to work at a library. That's kind of perfect. Hope she gets it and keeps up her therapy and stuff. It always makes me upset to see any hospital release patients before they are ready. I really hope Dani can transition back into society.

Oh, no - she’s not trying to work at the library. The library is one of the few places that poor people can have access to the Internet and by this time, even though the story is set for several years ago - a lot of the jobs and such are available to apply online. Dani would most likely apply online, because she knows that she might appear to not be normal when going in to get applications and people might “fire before you hire” her upon seeing that she’s not very normal. Sorry, I didn’t explain that. I know that the Texas Workforce Commission has access, but I didn’t feel like researching how unemployment works in Ohio, so I just went the library application route. Dani’s story isn’t over yet, so you’ll definitely find out how life went for her.

They function as a community, one for all and all for their cause. People can do anything when they work together even create monsters and killers.

People who lead abusive lifestyles often see their behavior as normal. Hence arguments TO THIS DAY of “My mom beat me and I turned out fine” or “People are this way because they don’t get beat enough.” Contrary to the cases upon cases of research and information that hitting children only causes trauma. Now, generally - children of abuse do NOT turn out to be killers and horrible criminals. Some go on to be kind humans and productive members of society... But even those generally have to address the trauma that was caused by their toxic environments.

Inevitably we know the fate of the hospital but in the other stories we never hear of the other characters. I hope they get the help they need wherever they go.

I have stories plotted out for most of the ones that we know. It’s gonna be a moment to get to some of them, but I’ll try not to drop the ball, completely.

Stevie was angry with Bukowski for hurting his Bust it Baby- learning so much. I had to look that up. That is Cheri by every definition if not now then later. She is well on her way. That exchange was cute the way Cheri acted. 

Bust It Baby Pt 2 was ONE OF MY FAVES in the club. (Telling my age, now. LOL) But, THEY would have been teens/kids around that time, so I didn’t feel bad referencing that mug. Bwahahaha. Cheri DEFINITELY becomes all of that for Stevie. But, yeah - she was a little bashful about it being said in a group setting.

Even Tanisha had to tell him about himself with Stevie. It's like Stevie was punished for all the children, well Mary got to Stacey but Sam was golden. Some couples should not procreate. 

I think it took a while for Dwight to comprehend that just because Stacie and Sam ‘turned out okay,’ that didn’t MEAN that he had been blameless in helping to shape Stevie the way that he did. He never saw himself as having anything against Stevie, because he loved him as much as he did the others (or so he thought - he just wasn’t CLOSE to him). And Mama T was able to see that Dwight’s not being close to Stevie affected how he handled him, whether or not he did love him - which she believed and trusted that he did, but she needed him to get that STEVIE needed to believe and trust it.

This Entire Review: I Have a Lot of Responses, Love

Bukowski is blinded by crazy. Any half decent individual would see red flags. DANGER! DANGER WILL ROBINSON! What an idiot. Poetic justice would be if Tesla killed his awhen he drugged and kidnapped her or whatever his chosen crazy decides to do. I just don't see him living after he knocked on that door.

Unfortunately, Bukowski’s time is not yet up. But, he has definitely poked a bear by reaching out to Max. Stevie making deals in an institution with a demon eww. Stevie has his number already, is he blinded by the vajayjay?

Stevie is blinded by both the caviar and his inability to access, the way that he would like to. He’s a teenage boy trying to squeeze quickies in all day in between heavily monitored times. That argument between Stevie and Cheri was like imagining popcorn pop. You know the explosion is coming. When it does your like damned that's some Good popcorn! I kept saying Oh, and scrunching up my face like Stevie's next words are gonna get him smacked and then he did it. He said the ultimate, ONE word that is complete Taboo in anger no less. *SMACK* ! Round two lol!

Stevie often feels attacked when nobody is attacking him. I blame Dwight for this, because Stevie spent most of his life feeling like he had to explain and defend himself, to the point where his mentality is paranoid and he thinks that he has to fight whenever a conflict or challenge arises. Cheri is not a violent person, but whenever she gets angry (Teenage Cheerio) will lash out, because she’s in a position where she can’t just go to the spa or have a smoothie. She’s relaxed more later because she has the freedom to simply escape for a moment. Here, she’s a caged bird. Cheri is hella patient with him and I get it. I have had to explain blackness to other races, as if EVERY race and EVERY culture and EVERY class does not have their own innuendoes and humor. Even his Arian idiot family. Like the lady at work told my coworker with at straight face 'Don't all y'all like fried chicken? I said what did you do? My coworker said I took a deep breath and saidNo! And what you just said is considered racist. Of course she asked how? My coworker said she just walked away. I probably would have a. been patient and broke it down, or b. said ungh hungh just like all y'all like caviar and filet minion. Just would depend on my mood but Cheri is time enough for Stevie. Most of how she handles Stevie I agree with.

I don’t. It’s not my job to bear the burden of educating people who (if they gave a fuck) could access resources to educate themselves. I made those mistakes when I was younger, and that shit was nothing but additional emotional labor added to the constant processes I had to go through, throughout the day in my black ass skin. I watch racists getting beat up for being trash on YouTube all the time. That’s handling that I agree with.Lol. Now there is no way in hell any man would not take Derek's behavior as a challenge or threat. I felt like he was trying to purposely show Stevie he could reach Cheri in a way Stevie could not and do things with Cheri that Stevie could not just to put it in Stevie's face then try and hide behind a smile and laughter like he didn't have an agenda. Even if he doesn't like her like that he KNEW Cheri was with Stevie. He should have acted accordingly. I think Derek was trying to be sneaky. Yes Stevie is a jelly monster and he is territorial and possessive but that is Stevie. Like Mason calling Cheri Ri Ri then correcting himself in front of Stevie. Mason is not deliberately trying to poke the bear. He calms all that down in front of Stevie and Stevie eventually learns that Cheri has to have other friends. I don't think that was Derek's mind set, befriend Cheri and Stevie. He just liked having the attention sounds like from everyone, in a mental hospital. Stevie is not stupid. Cheri is a little Naïve I think, especially when she meets Max. To me she made a couple mistakes with that. Trust no one. Describe new people in addition to looking up tags. 

This is highly problematic, in my opinion, for many reasons, all of which - I’ll respectfully address. Firstly, any man or person in general that takes the friendship of someone else with their partner as a threat is toxic, and possibly abusive. Control and possessiveness are not key points of love. They are key points of obsession and obsession is almost always dangerous when it involves people as the object.

I don’t think that I wrote anything to indicate that Derek was in any way trying to challenge or compete with Stevie, so that feeling seems to be some internalized antiblackness or at the very least, sympathy for the devil - in this case, that’d be Stevie. Because HE was wrong and he reacted. There is nothing wrong with a black kid getting attention from people or trying to impress or please people, so I’m not sure why that would be considered poking the bear or purposefully trying to upset Stevie. 

They are ALL in the mental hospital, and while Stevie definitely isn’t STUPID, he certainly is psychotic. He’s not always right. Even his instincts are frequently off, at this juncture of his life and it isn’t the responsibility of a black boy, who is here for his own mental health to coddle Stevie and think about all the ways that he may or may not be offending him by being generally friendly to everyone around him, which is literally all Derek does in this chapter. I only wrote him making jokes and being jovial, up until the point that Stevie threatened him, out of paranoia, after being told multiple times that he shouldn’t bother with it.

And Cheerio is definitely naive, but that also doesn’t mean that she should have had all the answers as to why not to suspect everybody that she met. She did her part to try to keep herself safe, and of course, Max would have had avenues set up as to not tip her off. He’s been trained to deceive. Saying that she made some mistakes sounds a little bit victim blaming to me, especially considering that she followed the rules that were given to her, and whenever she was abducted, she was run off of the road and taken. She hadn’t met up with him in the woods, or something. 

She was extremely paranoid (affecting her mental state and her peace of mind), because of everything that they had told her and she had no way of knowing that someone who’s information came back clean was someone else. I feel like this must be stated - Max doesn’t just LOOK like Max Giardi when he greets her. He’s not going up to her looking like somebody that she could Google and she’s just put her thumb in her butt and calls it a coincidence. He’s tactical. He purposefully entered her world. He wouldn’t do it in a way that any normal person would notice that anything off, much less someone that he would presume has been told to look out for him.

Bonus Face Claim:

Ashlee Brian as Derek (Originally a dance crew member in “The End of Twerking” episode.

[the-rxven-king]

@the anon i just got 

im not gonna post your ask because it feels like a private thing especially since you were on anon so i have no better way to say this to you and you trusted me enough to tell me what you did and im glad you had the courage to actually tell someone that kinda thing, even if it was just me, and i didnt want it to go without a response so... yea. this post is for you and p much only you so you can read under the cut and hopefully no one else will... since you were on anon this is the best i can do

first things first anon ill just go ahead and say thank you for having the courage to speak up and trust me? i mean im.... honestly not the best person to go to for this because as far as im aware im just a random dude on the internet to you idk if i know you at all but that you said anything at all to anyone takes guts and im glad you said something. keeping quiet is a hell i know well.

second thing: im sorry you feel the way you do. no one deserves to feel like theyre worthless. you have worth, i know you do, and thinking you are is really shitty. its a harsh thing to label yourself as, though. hopefully this doesnt sound preachy, but everyone has worth. you have worth. sometimes the problem is just not seeing it, not being able to reach it or find it. it feels like youre not worth anything, but you are. no matter how long it takes you to find out you have worth, you have so much. its there. in times like the ones youre going through it seems like thats impossible but youre worth something. if you hold on long enough youll find it. 

i dont want you to be killed, i know that for sure. you have worth to me, if that helps at all. im sure there are plenty of people who wouldnt want you to be gone, and before you can tell yourself otherwise, its true. there are people who care for you, there are. i promise you there are people who would hate to see you gone (again, not sure how much this helps, but i am one of those people).

i dont know if this is possible for you, because i dont fully know your current situation, or if you already have access to these things and im unaware because asks are small and you didnt give me this information, but if youre able please look into seeing a therapist. it could be beneficial to you and give you someone to talk to about these kinds of things aside from a teenage boy on the internet.... my inbox and pms are always open, of course, but it would be much better to go to a professional who can help you work through these feelings you have than just me. if this is something youve tried before and it didnt work, i encourage you to give it another shot, with someone new a fresh mindset. 

its not good to feel this way as im sure you know. its a dark, dark place to be, and i really hope you can pull your way out of it. youve got a whole life ahead of you to live, and no matter how long it takes, i hope it improves and you can find your worth and live life freely. life is like a roller coaster, not the best roller coaster since its kinda slow, but its a roller coaster for sure. roller coasters have their ups and downs, twists and turns, loops and falls, and right now your car is at a low point. at some point its going to go back up, but itll take time. it wont happen over night, it might seem like itll never happen, but ive never been on a roller coaster that never came back up. youll be ok, and everything will be ok. you arent worthless, and you are cared for, and youll be ok.

i wish there was more i could do for you, and i hope none of this came off wrong or preachy in any sense.... if it did, i apologize. i really do hope you feel better soon, anon, and please take care of yourself. you are important. sending you all my love and support through the internet along with a hug because it seems like you need one, and i wish i could give you one. and thank you again for trusting me with that. its hard to talk about those things.

[rivetgoth]

for the askmeme: odd numbers! (if it's too much you can skip some!)

OOH THANK YOU OMG it’s not too much I love never shutting up about music trust me

1: Favorite band?

Skinny Puppy of course lol. I don’t know who or where I’d be without that band and everything it means to me and everything it’s done for me. I know y’all all know I love it already but I can’t stress enough my love for this band and every single thing about it.

3: What's a band/artist you loved as a child but can barely listen to now?

HMMM My childhood relationship to music is weird. As a kid I didn’t listen to much music of my own accord and I thought that all music sounded like whatever you heard on a Christian rock radio station. The few bands I did get to hear that were actually good I still have warm feelings for (Elton John, Tom Petty, & Cat Stevens come to mind). That being said I apparently had a phase as a really little kid where I loved ABBA but I’m really not not a fan now lol.

5: Are you going to any gigs soon?

Oh HELL YES I HAVE VIP TICKETS TO COLD WAVES CHICAGO IN SEPTEMBER I’ll be seein ohGr, Cocksure, Lead Into Gold, Chemlab, Frontline Assembly, and more I’M SO EXCITED.

9: A song that gets you through shit?

Ggdhhdhdh I just realized there’s no 7 in this ask meme lol. ANYWAY the honest answer here would just be almost any ohGr song because nothing helps more than hearing my dad sing, but another big one that comes to mind in particular is “Witness,” which is a heartbreaking song to me that I frequently desperately need to hear.

11: A song you'd have sex to?

I wanna be fucked to some hardcore industrial hell music. How bout Revolting Cocks’ Stainless Steel Providers. Also Cuntboy by KMFDM, and Rash Reflection by Skinny Puppy? I’m sorry class.

13: A song for when you're lonely?

I love Boy George’s “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya” for lonelier nights, it’s so upbeat and George sounds so happy in it, I feel like he’s there with me telling me to be happy.

15: A song to jam out to at 4AM?

SOMETHING DURAN DURAN. Or maybe Soft Cell.

17: A song that punches you in the gut every single time?

Hmm, Skinny Puppy’s Amnesia, the distorted part always really really gets to me for some reason, although I could write a whole thinkpiece on The Process and how painful that whole album is for me to listen to for so many reasons. On a different note, Psychic TV’s I Love You, I Know.

19: If you had to pick one song to represent what you're feeling right now, what would it be?

Uhhhh Nine Inch Nails Wish.

21: A song that makes you feel alive?

Impossible question, I only listen to music that makes me feel dead. But actually after some thinking prolly traGek by ohGr, the single version, since the ending/second half is just so lively and fun and exciting and it just makes me so happy for Ogre if that makes sense..?

23: What are some lyrics you love to pieces?

Oh god there’s so many I couldn’t ever list them all. Some of my favorite song lyrics of all time include Mutiny In Heaven by The Birthday Party, You and Me and Rainbows by Tear Garden, Kiss by London After Midnight, Promise by Violent Femmes, Everyday is Halloween by Ministry, Goneja and The Choke by Skinny Puppy, Cracker by ohGr, Genocide Peroxide by Boy George... Some of my all time favorite single lyrics include “Everything disastrous is pure” from ohGr’s Bellew and “We’re broken wings but still we’ll fly” from Tear Garden’s You and Me and Rainbows... But I seriously could never list them all. God.

25: What's a band/artist you'd addict your children to from an early age?

My hypothetical nonexistent kids WOULD know and love Skinny Puppy. Have em singing Deep Down Trauma Hounds in their diapers. Glass Houses as a lullaby every night. =}

27: Has a band/artist ever inspired you to do something?

I literally can’t even begin to go into detail with this one; not to sound edgy and stupid but my entire life has been shaped by my favorite musicians and I swear to god every decision I make somehow reflects them so like yes in the hugest possible way ever absolutely.

29: What was your favorite band/artist when you were 12?

OGGDHDHD FUTRET AND LAPFOX LMAO

31: What's your favorite genre?

Just. Take A Wild Guess.

33: Do you sing?

Can I? Yes. Should I? Prolly not.

37: Do you prefer buying physical copies of albums or do you download them on the internet?

Skipping 35 since I already answered it. Anyway, I do enjoy owning physical copies of things, but in general I tend to just download em, since I like listening to music on my phone and stuff anyway where a physical copy would be useless, and I’m a broke college student.

39: Do you play your music out loud or with headphones?

Headphones ggdhdhhd I don’t like disturbing others with my music and I like keeping to myself so I’m not gonna go around blasting my bullshit.

41: A song that gives you the chills?

Nine Inch Nails’ Starfuckers Inc. always gives me chills at the end lol. Also Everyday is Halloween by Ministry, I swear 2 god I almost had a breakdown the first time I heard it. Also Ogre’s shrieking in God’s Gift (Maggot)... I’m gayhhsgsgg

43: A band/artist with an amazing instrumental but really bad lyrics?

OKAY NO OFFENSE BUT I’M JUST GONNA SAY IT AL JOURGENSEN CAN’T WRITE LYRICS FOR SHIT AND I LOVE MINISTRY BUT LIKE THE LYRICS ARE SO BAD SOMETIMES. LIKE NOT ALWAYS BUT. NOT INFREQUENTLY.

45: A song you love to sing to yourself?

I love singing Lou Reed songs and I can play a lot of em on guitar so I’ll sing and play; my favorites are prolly off Transformer, like Andy’s Chest and Hangin’ Round!

47: A song that represents a deserted city at night?

O I love this question. It would depend on the mood. I think my first thought was something Joy Division or Velvet Underground. Or maybe something off of Skinny Puppy’s hanDover, like Ovirt.

49: An upbeat song with grim lyrics?

LMAO I think a lot of industrial could be categorized as this because so much of it is really dancy while the lyrics are a lot darker. Actually just a lot of the music I listen to in general is like this. An outlier from my usual taste that comes to mind is Elton John’s Crocodile Rock which I love, that song is so depressing but catchy and fun. Hmm thinking about it now a lot of 80s music does this too even if it’s not typical goth or industrial stuff. I love music I actually only listen to music that sounds fun but is actually depressing?

53: Do you listen to instrumental music?

Skipping 51 because I did it already. Anyway I do, but not as much as I like music with lyrics since the lyrics are one of my favorite parts of music. But I can’t listen to music with lyrics while studying or writing since I’m a bad multitasker so there is some instrumental music I adore (also. video game OSTs.)

55: A song about drugs?

Immediate thought was Skinny Puppy’s Spasmolytic or Velvet Underground’s Heroin.

57: A band/artist you're proud of?

Oh MANY, since I look up to my favorite artists and their stories so much. Two big ones are Nivek Ogre of course and then Marilyn as well. Ogre because of his entire story, how he started from so little with no experience or background and he’d lost so much and just wanted to do something he believed in and he struggled through so much and battled illness and injury and addiction and lost so much but still to this day continues to do what he does and work towards what he believes in and he’s kind and caring and so full of love. He’s just such a wonderful person and I wish I could be half as good as him. Marilyn (Peter Robinson) for similar reasons, he’s so willing to speak out for what he believes in and not let anyone control him or his identity, and he’s gone through so much and had to fight such a horrible bout of depression and I actually got into his music right before he started releasing his first new music in DECADES. And he just is so positive and seems like he’s doing so much better now and he worked to rid himself of his addictions and is so candid about his mental health struggle and I just admire that so much. He’s going through a rough time right now I hope he’s able to pull through it safely :(

59: A band/artist with a sick aesthetic?

SKINNY FREAKING PUPPY, but if I’m being honest any 80s goth bands are so good and all of them inspire me every single day with their aesthetics lol.

[ryersonsmash]

Health Anxiety 101: My Experience and Tips for Coping

By: Annemarie Cutruzzola

It’s 4am, and I’m jolted awake by the strangest sensation – an intense throbbing in my big toe.

It wasn’t going away, I’d never experienced anything like it before, and the fact that woke me up seemed like a bad sign. So obviously, I turn to Google, and I’m bombarded with an endless list of toe ailments and in no time, I’m convinced that I have one of them. I vaguely remember drifting off to sleep with the thought that I could need minor surgery, according to some source on the internet...

It turned out to be a minor irritation that went away in a couple of days. So, I cleared my extensive Google search history, put away my Band-Aids and Polysporin, and moved on with my life. That is, until the next suspicious bug bite or muscle twitch.

I felt silly for thinking anything more was wrong in the first place, but at 4am, the concerns felt justified, the bad possibilities were endless, and the threat to my health felt real. This was just one example of the many times I have experienced health anxiety.

What is Health Anxiety?

Health anxiety, also known as hypochondria, is the unpleasant intersection of physical and mental health. It usually starts small – a random sensation, hearing about a new illness, or another source of stress. Then it becomes a fixation, and you’re unable to shake the thought that something could be wrong with you. You can become hyperaware of your body and constantly check on the thing that’s bothering you or actively look for symptoms that fit the ailments you’re worried about. Additionally, if you experience physical symptoms of anxiety, they can be interpreted as further proof that something is wrong. The diagram in this amazing self-help guide to health anxiety, sums it up best.

In the middle of a pandemic, it’s no surprise that more people are experiencing health anxiety. Coming out of allergy season and entering cold and flu season, common symptoms of other afflictions are being confused with COVID-19. Constantly hearing more news about the virus, regular updates on case numbers, and first-hand horror stories from those who have contracted COVID-19 can also be contributing factors to health anxiety in these times.

I’ve experienced health anxiety at various points in my life at varying levels of intensity, so I’ve learned some pretty good strategies for coping with it. Everyone experiences health anxiety differently, to varying extents, and has different methods of coping. The objective is to break the vicious cycle in whatever way works best for you.

Listen to Logic

So much of health anxiety is based on fear and irrational thoughts. Everything might seem terrifying as you’re experiencing it, but from a logical perspective, there’s usually a complete lack of justification for concern. Listening to logic can look like different things. It may mean a grounding exercise, where you get back in touch with your own body and identify what physical symptoms you’re actually experiencing.

It can mean comparing the symptoms you’re experiencing with the likelihood that they’re actually something to worry about. If you’ve barely left the house in two weeks and have been following all of the public health guidelines, is it more likely that your sneezing is COVID-related (not a common symptom of the virus, by the way), or simply an allergy symptom from the giant pile of leaves you were raking this morning?

By its nature, health anxiety makes it difficult to ignore even the most unlikely possibilities. But analyzing a situation with logic can get you out of a panicked state where everything seems doomed, and able to neutrally identify and evaluate your symptoms.

Don’t Google!

The internet is never the best source for medical advice, but when you’re experiencing health anxiety, it is hands down the worst source. When I symptom search, I gravitate towards the worst-case scenarios and the least likely possibilities. I can remember Google giving me health anxiety and worsening it, but not once can I remember it making my health anxiety better.

The temptation to Google your symptoms can be so strong, but it’s very unlikely that you’ll walk away from the dreaded search engine with any concrete knowledge or conclusions about the symptoms you’re experiencing. It’s even more unlikely that it’ll bring you any comfort. I’ve Googled everything from your run-of-the-mill sore throat to random sensations like “numb earlobe” or “noticeable vein in finger.” So I feel like I have some authority to say this: It’s not worth it!

Distraction can work as an alternative to this. Anxiety in any form tends to make your mind fixate on something endlessly. It obviously isn’t a cure-all solution, but sometimes distracting yourself by getting engrossed in another task can slow down or stop a harmful spiral of thoughts. This could look like so many things: picking up a book, watching TV, or talking to someone.

Trust your Body, Seek Help

When in doubt, trust your gut. Luckily, my experience with health anxiety has mostly involved minor symptoms that don’t last long. But if you can’t shake your concerns that something is wrong, getting definitive answers from a medical professional is the way to go. Even if it feels like something small or silly, there’s nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to your health – both mental and physical. However, for some with more serious forms of health anxiety, seeking reassurance from a doctor only temporarily relieves health anxiety, and leads to a cycle where you rely on that reassurance to function.

Like any other mental illness, you can also seek professional advice or treatment for dealing with health anxiety. You deserve to have peace of mind when it comes to both your mental and physical health.

Ultimately, health anxiety is just your brain trying to look out for your body, with the message sometimes getting a bit lost in translation. I still experience health anxiety, but I’ve learned how to live with it and tell it who’s boss.

SMASH wishes you all a safe and Happy Halloween! Come join us tonight at our annual Halloween Movie Night at 8pm EST as we watch Coraline together!