#i...do not know much about graphic design but i had to do something for today

[russellsppttemplates]

A little hope (Lando Norris) (Part 1)

Lando will give you all the time you need if it means you will work things out

Note: english is not my first language. I don't think I've ever written a piece without closure/closing off the subject like this, so constructive thoughts are appreciated... might do a part two depending on how this one goes, let me know your thoughts on it! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self-deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Here, gorgeous", Lando said as he opened the door for you, letting you in first and following suit, finding your places around the table as the meeting was about to start.

"Thanks, love", you whispered as you set your things down on the table, turning on your laptop as you gathered everything you needed to show them.

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do", Lando noted a while into the meeting already. He didn't know that much about graphic design, so if his graphic designer said they should do it, they were going to.

The frown on your face, however, didn't seem to agree, "I spoke to the marketing guys, as well", you looked at Anna as she nodded, "and they think this is also the best strategy if we want to expand it to this market", you clarified.

"Then that's how it's going to go, Y/N", Callum asserted, noticing your slightly antsy posture as you moved on to the next point of discussion.

This had been happening for a while, the thoughts plaguing you with the fact that, in the simples of terms, you worked for your boyfriend. While the relationship had nothing to do with how you got the job and position, and inside the team, no one seemed too phased by it, part of you wondered if you were taken differently because of your relationship.

"Alright, Y/N?", Tara said, calling you back to planet Earth, "yes, sorry. But I agree with that, yes, but could we do this earlier, maybe this week? It would match up with all the dates we have", you answered, earning everyone's approval as they booked the shoot for Friday.

A knock on the door startled you as a woman peeked, "I'm sorry, I'm looking for Anna? From Marketing?", she asked, looking at you, "are you her?", she pointed her finger to you.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/N, she's our graphic designer", Lando said with a big smile.

"That's Anna", you said as the ginger haired girl raised her hand, "I'm Y/N", you murmured the last part.

The uneasiness took over your body again when you noticed the woman's look directed at you, a mixture of a silent scoff and a despised expression.

"Do you need a ride home, baby?", Lando asked once the meeting ended, "I have to go somewhere before going home, but thanks anyway", you said, kissing his lips chastely and bidding goodbye to everyone.

"Is she alright? She seemed off today", Max commented as he saw your interaction with his bestfriend, "this project had been taking a lot out of her, she's been tired, that's all", he said as he looked at your back as you walked away from them, "at least I hope it's that".

Only it really wasn't that, and with your calendar and Lando's calendar, you only saw eachother again on the day of the shoot.

The fight you had the day before still resonated with you and Lando, each of you measuring your words and how you had behaved.

"In Quadrant, you are my superior and I respect that", you pointed between you two, "but I'm my own person and if there's something I say, I want to be heard as me, Y/N, graphic designer for Quadrant", you cleared, "And in the meetings, if I give an idea, I want it to be heard and seen as coming from a graphic designer with experience and knowledge, not your girlfriend who you're afraid will get hurt if you say no and always let me get my way", you explained.

"But who said that I don't respect you like that? Because I do! I've considered every idea you've said like I'd consider them if somebody else said them!", Lando attempted, "do you think my love for you is not genuine? Do you think my appreciation for you or how much I value, as a person and as a member of the team, depends on what? What do you think this is?", Lando snapped, looking angrier than you've ever seen him. He usually kept a calm stance no matter how stressful the situation was, so the slight raise in his and his tone was enough to show he wasn't his usual self.

"Is it my fault you are my girlfriend? Are we putting this relationship, our relationship, in a basket of cons for us and for our lives?", he sounded genuinely hurt at his admission.

You didn't mean it that way, and you knew he knew that, but the fact that his mind went there and considered it enough for him to say it out loud hurt you.

Despite Tara's insistence that you could be one of the models for the hoodie she claimed was made for you, you declined the invitation, feeling that it would only add to your self deprecation and the very few comments you had seen online about how "dating Lando has landed you a great gig when so many people are looking for jobs themselves". You weren't also in the best terms with your boyfriend, and since he was modelling too, it would hardly be a good idea to be so close to eachother whilst still working in front of the team.

"We printed the backdrop you sent us, Y/N!", the photographer, James, and his colleague, Kai, called for you as you went to inspect the piece. It wasn't greatly detailed, but had certain points already measured so the editing and designing would be easier for you once you go the pictures back from them.

"I've never done it like this myself, but a friend of mine from university has done this before and he said it was so much easier and the models can move freely as long as they're within the frame", you explained, sharing knowledge in case they ever found themselves with a similar issue in need of this solution.

So absorbed in the conversation about different techniques and the words they had done before, you missed Lando arriving to the studio along with Max who had started making sure everything was running as scheduled.

"First, it's model two and three", you said as you looked at the schedule Max held, "so that's...", you trailed off, looking again in the list to make sure you were calling the right names, "Lucy and Lando", you stated, looking around for them and seeing the boy laugh at something she had said.

"Guys!", Max yelled, "it's your turn", he whistled, grabbing their attention so they could get in position.

James kept telling them what worked best as Kai worked with the lights, carefully readjusting and pointing out whenever they weren't on the frame you had specified.

"Now it's just the male models", Kai said as Lucy stepped down.

"I'm sorry to bother, but do you think we can bring out the snack table around now?", she questioned as she clipped her hair back, not wanting to mess with the work that was done on the short blonde locks, "I woke up later than I wanted and I had to rush here so I didn't have much for breakfast", she cringed.

"I think we can, yes. There's coffee in there, too, so I might join you", you smiled, walking alongside her to the table the catering team had set up. You were planning to spend the whole morning in there, so food and drinks were ordered to keep everyone happy and content.

"Rough night?", Lucy asked as she say you make a triple latte from the expresso machine.

That would be a way to put it, you thought. You hated leaving things unresolved with anyone, but knowing you and Lando went to sleep without knowing where you stood, it was hard for you to close your eyes and fall asleep despite the tiredness you felt. You rolled in your bed countless times, changing the pyjamas you were wearing three times until you accepted that the choice of clothing wasn't what was keeping you from falling asleep. In total, you probably slept four hours, and you were hoping the coffee would help with that.

"I remember when me and Lando used to go out, there was this week where it was four nights!", she smiled, stirring the hot tea in her cup as she took one of the small sandwiches.

"You and Lando used to go out? I didn't realise", you asked, the curiosity killing you and the dread to know the answer even more.

"I mean going out as in out of the house and into clubs, parties and such", she laughed brightly, and even that didn't seem to settle your heart, "we found out we have mutual friends that work for the same chain of clubs. We never slapped a label on it, I think neither of us wanted the attachment or rules you had to follow, you know? He's always wanted to be free on his endeavours and do as he pleases".

"Sure", you gulped, drinking the hot coffee as you thought about her words, not going to far, probably for your own good, since you heard something fall, "I better go see what that is, excuse me", you smiled lightly.

As it turned out, there was a piece of metal holding the backdrop that had a smaller piece holding it together that wasn't the right size, "we have to tools in there, let me just change it quickly", you said, "you guys can go and grab a coffee and some snacks, they're really good", you offered, "I'll sort out the programming for the next set while I'm at it, too".

Carrying the piece to the room where you kept the tools, you turned on your laptop and ran the code, fixing the metal piece in the mean time when you heard someone walk in the room, "was the coffee that bad? I- Oh, hi", you muttered, seeing Lando walk in and sit in front of you as you worked on the table.

"Can we talk, please?", Lando wondered. Even though he was clearly tired and his usual bright eyes had required the makeup artist to apply eye drops on him twice already, he still looked as handsome as ever. His curls was bouncy and the green coloured hoodie was a perfect match against his tanned skin and the minimal jewellery he had on.

"Sure", you asked, setting the screwdriver down and looking at him.

"I want to apoligise if I made you feel unworthy, professionally and personally. It was never my intention, Y/N. I want to be there for you, and I want to protect you and help make sure nothing bad happens, okay? I'd hate to be the reason you feel bad, baby.

"But I also need you to tell me what's wrong, because I know something is bothering you and I don't care who I have to call or what I have to do to help, but you need to tell me", he stated.

Your eyes started to feel tight and threatened to spill tears you were sure had been building up for more than a week, "I'm a confident woman, I know what I'm worth", you reasoned, "growing up left from what society thinks women should behave and look like, I've had to grow thick skin and be confident in what I do. It's not that you've had other partners or flings before, it's the way I'm being labelled as your girlfriend. Suddenly, I lost my name, my identity and I'm something to someone, that's what people see.

"I love you, and I love being with you. I've had so many opportunities that I wouldn't have had in other jobs and in other relationships, but I'm not sure losing who I am is a fair price to pay", you added. "I need to think this through. I'm not in the right state to argue this and risk saying something I don't mean and hurt you in the process. I don't want to hurt you, Lando, and I don't won't to be hurt either, I'm sorry", you sighed, looking into his colourful eyes.

"I love you, Y/N, so much", he said as he took a step forward, testing the waters and not getting resistance from you which led him to press his lips on your forehead, depositing a slow and soft kiss there, "I don't want to hurt you either, but... Think about it, okay? Really give it some thought because there's a way and we will find it", he attempted, realising it wasn't his place to tell you how you should feel about something and finding a common ground.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we need your opinion on something, Y/N", Kai asked, sympathetically smiling as you excused yourself from the room and back to the studio area.

Lando went outside to cool off a little, thinking about your discussion and taking the opportunity that he wasn't needed inside for a while.

Had he been a pushover? Was that how you felt? You hadn't been yourself in the past two weeks, but he had put it down to the fact that you had been to the race with him and then Quadrant had this project that you wanted to see through from begging to end and it was on a tight schedule. You wouldn't be persuaded to take it easy, so Lando did his best to make sure you were as well as possible, but he seemed to have failed.

"I don't know how long it will be before they notice I'm gone and need help, so I'm advising you to spit it out while you can", Max jumped in, sitting on the floor and against the wall next to him.

"Just tired, didn't sleep well", Lando muttered. He didn't sleep at all, truth be told, images of your shattered expression kept replaying in his head as he tried to figure out what was happening to you two.

"I suggest you tell me the truth", Max squinted, "so, try again".

"Y/N and I have hit a rough patch? Our first big fight? I'm not sure", he admitted, "she isn't telling me much, but I think it's about the fact that she works for Quadrant, as in the company I, her boyfriend, own and something about treating her like and employee and not my girlfriend", Lando let out, starting to get worked up, "she tells me this, and I've kept my distance, and that's not been good either. Didn't she say that I should treat her like the employee she is?", Lando snapped as his body language showed another set of emotions.

"She is an employee, yes, and she deserves to be treated as such. But she's also the person you come home to, she was someone before she met you, she is a person outside of your relationship and you shouldn't meddle things. You know that dating you isn't easy and she's been getting the backhand of it", Max reasoned as Lando listened intently, "the social media team have been taking care of it, but there have been comments that are less than kind about her on Instagram, the email marketing too...! It's shitty, less than reasonable accusations, but it has been there... Y/N has never liked to be discredited, and I'm not saying you do it per se, but maybe it's where you should go first", he tapped his friend's back.

"She's not letting me in, how am I supposed to know?!", Lando got antsy again, feet tapping the ground incessantly as his breath got quicker and shallower as he struggled to focus a little.

"Is this rage you feel? Anger?", Max checked, handing Lando the ice-cold water bottle so he could focus on the temperature and not spiral out, "you're good, mate? What do you feel?".

"It's fear that I might lose her", Lando said as he allowed himself to cry, "I'm afraid of losing her because of something I did to her unintentionally. Because being my girlfriend is bad for her and I can't be selfish and tell her to be with me when she's suffering. Because I can't help that I'm proud of her and I won't to belt out how proud I am of her work and that I have her?", he let it all out.

"Have you thought about how it feels for her, though? Even for you, there are comments left and right about how you got to where you are, so imagine how it is for her", Max thought out loud, letting it all sink in.

By the time they came back to the studio, the models were gone and, by the looks of it, so were you as they tidied the place.

"Lando, Max", James called, "we're just finishing up and then we'll also get going. Y/N had to leave, she said something about her mother calling her and she needed to go. Didn't look life threateningly urgent, but she had to get going. Also- Lucy, I think her name was -, she left her number here for you", the photographer said, "she asked me to make sure I handed it to you", he smiled, "do you need mine too? I'm assuming it's for the contract payments?".

"Yes, there was a mishap with her contract, but we checked and yours are still there, no worries with that", Lando lied, impressed at his ability to come up with a half decent excuse.

Walking up to his car, Lando threw the card James gave him in one of the bins outside before getting in with Max, "let me just send this text, one minute".

To lovie ✨️

I'll give you all of the time that you need, but I'm not leaving this, I'm not leaving us. You're the love of my life and I'll wait as long as you need me to, so whenever you want to talk, I'm here, baby.

I love you to the moon and the stars 🤍

"I'll be damned if lose her, Max", Lando admitted, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and supporting his head on his hands.

"You two were made for eachother, Lando. You'll figure it out", his best friend comforted.

As he was reversing out of the parking space, his phone beeped with a notification.

From lovie ✨️

Thank you for letting me do that, I appreciate it more than words can say.

I love you to the planets and around the Milky Way.

For now, it brought a smile to his face, and a little hope. And he would hold on to that little hope.

Part 2

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[undiscovered-horizon]

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly. 

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office. 

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter. 

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval. 

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.” 

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen. 

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it. 

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper. 

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

[warping-realities]

Making Amends (Repost)

Eric Campbell wasn't sure where his life had taken this turn. But if he had to pick a moment, it would be the one when he revealed to his high school best friend, Ryan, that he was gay and in love with him.

Ryan, although receptive to his friend's sexuality, refused any interest in him and from that moment on the friendship cooled down. The situation worsened when Ryan started dating Vanessa, a classmate for whom Eric had no sympathy and who, upon discovering his secret, decided to make his life a real hell. Telling the whole school the truth about his sexuality, which made Eric move to another city.

Between a shaken friendship with someone who was moving and a relationship with a girl who soon revealed she was pregnant with his child, Ryan opted for the second option. And for more than 20 years the two friends did not see each other.

With the sudden death of his father, the only living relative he still had, Eric was forced to return to his hometown to organize the house and the few assets he inherited. Which put him back in proximity to his old friend, today a successful lawyer, who ironically lived on the same block, along Vanessa and their son, who was spending his college vacation at his parents' house.

While Ryan kept the lean body and the long shiny hair that he was so proud of since his youth, Eric accumulated excessive weight, due to the long hours working as a graphic designer, a lot of fast food, and a complete lack of exercises, which associated with his scruffy beard and messy red hair gave him an unkempt look.

It's not that his life was horrible, his career guaranteed him financial stability to live comfortably. But it wasn't a happy life either, as his youth experiences prevented him from having any meaningful relationships and raising a family. And that's what he thought as he slowly fell asleep while watching porn videos, lying on the couch at his parents' old house.

....

“Hello son” Eric got scared when he heard his late father's voice. Looking around he found himself sitting on the same room he had fallen asleep on but with the body and appearance of when he was 18 years old.

“Dad..? But you passed away..”

“Yes, I'm dead, son. But that doesn't mean I can't do something to make amends with you.”

"Make amends? What do you mean?

"The truth is, I didn't support you when I should have, even though I knew I could have done so much more for you than I did. All because deep down I couldn't accept and love you for who you are... but no more. Tomorrow when you wake up you will receive the first of my gifts, after that I want you to go to your old friend Ryan's house to receive the remaining!”

….

It was a strange morning for Ryan, first he woke up alone in his bed, with the odd feeling that someone should be lying next to him. What didn't make the slightest sense, that side of the bed had been empty for over 15 years, when Vanessa, his ex-wife, had abandoned him, leaving him to raise the couple's son, Jacob, alone. Thinking about it made his head hurt, giving him a feeling of unreality.

Speaking of unreality… Ryan was at that very moment sitting across from his old school friend, Eric, who had decided to pay a visit, while he awaited the outcome of his father's probate process. But this Eric was very different from the image he had in his head, acquired by seeing the photos posted on the other man's Instagram, which he had discreetly followed in an embarrassed way over the last few years, thinking with regret of his actions in the last year from school.

The Eric sitting across from him was a fine specimen of a man, with well-developed gargantuan sized muscles, a perfect face and very well-groomed hair. Contrasting with the obese and careless figure that insisted on appearing in the back of his head.

“So, where's Jake? You know I love that boy.” Eric said with a smile on his face.

"He must be in his room getting ready for the day" Ryan replied without thinking. But soon a question came to his lips

“What do you mean with “love”? When did you see him?”

“Yesterday, and the day before, and in all the holidays he spent with me since his childhood.” Eric answered with a smile.

"I do not know what you're talking about. Jacob never spent a day with you.”

“Did you hit your head somewhere, Ry? Jake has spent more time at my house than his own since Vanessa left. You decided it was better for him to stay with his godfather than a nanny.”

“I… I… don't…” Ryan stammered. As consternation came over his face.

“Ry, is everything okay? Now you really worried me.” Eric replied with concern.

It was then that hazy memories surfaced in Ryan's mind. He leaving Jacob as a child at his friend's house, the three walking on a beach, a video sent from an old cell phone, showing Jacob holding a tooth and laughing with a toothless smile while Eric's laughter could be heard in the background.

“I, yes, yes. I don't know how I could forget about that, Red"

The old nickname returning to Ryan's lips as if had never left.

“But I don’t understand, you left a long time ago…”

“Yes, Ry, but I came back when my best friend asked me to help him raise his son”

“Sure, sure. - That made sense, didn't it? "For which Jacob and I will be forever grateful," he concluded.

“There's no need to thank me, ever, I did everything with the greatest pleasure, I love the little devil, and speaking of him, it seems he's not so little anymore. Have you been working out, Jake?” Eric said looking at the skinny dark haired young man who entered the room at that moment. Which in turn replied somewhat disconcerted:

“Humm, no…not really. But… who are you?"

“Jacob, this is no way to talk to Uncle Eric””

“Uncle… Eric … ? what the fuck, dad?

“Jacob, what language is that? You may be a grown man now, but inside my house you won't treat an old friend like that, apologize, now!"

"But, but…”

“Leave the kid alone, Ry. He was always hot-blooded. And he was always a smartass to. I'm sure it's some joke, isn't it, Devil?"

"I don't know what… "- Jacob started to say, but stopped at the same moment when he noticed his father's stern look. “Yes, a joke of course, Uncle…?”

“Hahaha, and he continues! Always the same devilish boy, even though he's a man now, and what a man, look how big you are kid, look at that musculature!”

Both Jacob and Ryan were unable to understand Eric's comments, Jacob had been a quiet and serious child, a behavior he maintained until adulthood, in addition to that he was always averse to physical activities, preferring to pursue academic achievements, as well as his father, which translated into a thin body for life. But those memories began to blur and mix with those of a mischievous boy, given to pranks, who from an early age practiced all kinds of sports.

"Ah, sit here beside me boy, I want to know everything you're up to in college, you must be the terror of the sororitys, and the fraternities too..." - Eric said with a wink, as he pulled Jacob making him sit down up next to him on the couch.

“Hum, I don't know… I don't know… - said Jacob with a feeling of anguish in his chest and a mess of discordant thoughts and memories in his head. From spending his days diligently studying in the college library, except when he was playing chess with friends, to memories of spending his days diligently training in the gym and his nights going to parties, always ending up accompanied by a beautiful woman... or man.

"Calm down little demon" Whispered Eric in the boy's ear, who finally relaxed his shoulders and smiled. “Dad is here and everything is going to be okay.” He concluded, enveloping the boy in a hug and giving him an affectionate and long kiss on the head.

Seeing the scene Ryan thought that was too much and got up with the intention of separating the two.

“Hey…” he started to say. But his head began to hurt intensely, with the objects spinning around him, and the last thing he saw before falling to the ground was Eric's smiling face, as he caressed Jacob's head leaning against the man's huge chest.

…..

It had been a strange morning for Ryan. He woke up lying on the couch in the living room, his head a little dizzy, and with a feeling of strangeness with the environment around him, as if the atmosphere was denser. When he looked at himself he realized that he was wearing pajamas, but he remembered changing clothes when he woke up, but if he was waking up now…. would that have been the day before? Still confused and with his head throbbing he walked slowly to the kitchen thinking about having a glass of water while he waited for this feeling of strangeness disappear.

Upon entering the room, Ryan got a big scare! Standing behind the table was a red haired giant, half naked, smiling in his direction.

“R-Red? What are you doing here."

“Hey Ry. I'm sorry, my thoughts were far away. I see you're awake, I thought I'd take you to bed, but even with those arms I don't know if I'd have the strength for that, big guy!"

“Big guy?” Those words echoed in Ryan's throbbing head. He had always been skinny, but with time and a workout routine he had acquired a more toned musculature, yet being called "Big Guy" made something resonate inside him... but someone like Red calling him big didn't make sense, as the fact that someone was sitting in Ryan's kitchen, helping himself to his coffee, and worst of all, practically naked.

"Red, what are you doing here, and almost naked?"

“Since when are you a prude, Ry? And as for what I'm doing here, I'm making breakfast for you and that devilish boy. Did you see the time he arrived? I imagine not, since you were sleeping on the couch…. You'd think college would knock some sense into our boy's head..."

“Our…boy?” Suddenly Ryan had a flash, a image of Eric approaching Jacob, whispering something in his ear, his smile looking at Ryan while hugging him...

“Jacob! Where is Jacob.” "What you do with him?” He asked with an accusing tone.

“Calm down Ryan, boys will be boys, regardless of age. But we can talk to him, parent to child if that's important to you” Eric answered with a soothing tone, apparently misunderstanding the reason for Ryan's indignation. Who in turn was staring at the giant in front of him with stupefaction.

“From parent to child?” What do you mean by…” Ryan began to say, being interrupted by the entry of an attractive muscular young man with vibrant red hair, totally naked, exposing his muscular body, with a large pole hanging between his legs, swinging from side to side as he trotted to the kitchen table.

“Morning, dad…” - said the young man passing by him while stretching, making his huge cock swing more willingly.

"Dad…? What… how… Jacob??? What happened??? What are you wearing?"

"Hum, nothing?." Answered the young man. Bursting with laughter along with Eric. While Ryan watched him, who was nothing like the thin boy he knew as well as the back of his hand.

“Hey, Devil, where's my hug? Eric asked, approaching the boy and hugging him, not caring that the young man's cock was exposed.

“Daaad…” replied the young man, with mocked irritation as he hugged the other man.

That scene made Ryan's brain shatter into a thousand pieces, to the point where he stood there watching without being able to form a single word, dumbfounded. With his head pounding harder, as the sense of unreality heightened.

“What the fuck is going on here”? Ryan yelled as he finally gathered his strength. Nothing there made sense.

“What kind of language is this, father?” said Jacob in an unconvincing imitation of a strict father.

“Your dad is looking like a prude old man today, Jake. Frankly, he doesn't even look like the man I chose to spend my life with and father my child with." Eric replied containing a laugh.

That was the last straw. Ryan cupped his face in both hands, sighing in frustration. With the throbbing in his head finally reaching its peak as he blacked out.

….

Ryan woke up lying on the couch in the living room, with his head a little dizzy, and with a feeling of strangeness with the environment around him, as if the atmosphere was denser. When he looked at himself he realized that he was wearing his robe and couldn't avoid a strong feeling that he had been through this same situation before. Confused and with his head throbbing, he closed his eyes in an attempt to think more clearly. And that's when he heard a familiar voice.

“Good morning, Big Man. Soon the coffee will be ready, it's time for you to open your eyes to reality!”

A feeling of anguish and fear dominated Ryan's chest, with a voice saying in the back of his mind that it would be best not to listen to anything that person had to say, to get up and leave without looking back. But a second voice silenced the first one, it didn't make any sense to leave the house where he lived, the house where his son lived, the house where his husband lived…. The first voice tried to fight these thoughts. Tried to say that they were misleading, that something very bad had already happened to his son and that the same could happen to him. “Nonsense, said the second voice, Jake was fine and healthier than ever, after all he was lifting as much weight at the gym as Ryan since he came home for the holidays, although neither of them comes close to Red in that regard. ”

"No, no, Jacob didn't lift any weights"

“Of course he would, with a father like Red, genetics and true dedication together are the best combination.”

"No, no, Eric was not Jacob's father, I’m Jacob's father"

"Of course he was Jake's father, they both were, and it didn't matter that the boy didn't have his blood, he was his son, period."

"But, but…

“No buts, his fatherhood was as real as his marriage was real and he would like to see who would have the courage to say otherwise in front of him. He might not be as big as Eric, but he was far from a wimp, years of exercise and a strict diet had given him a body to envy.”

As those thoughts played through the battleground that was Ryan's head, the truth within them was manifesting itself on the outside. With the robe he was wearing fading out of existence and revealing the muscular body they hid, while his luxurious hair shortened and lost its shine and a stubble beard appeared on his face. Eyes open but without seeing, at least not this changing reality, lost while the world changed.

“Yes, he would very much like to see who would challenge the infamous Big Man Ryan in a dispute, after all his fame preceded him, both in court, where he was a defender of gay rights, and outside of it, where he had already been involved in some fights while defending the same rights.”

“Big Man… gay rights… no… fights… no”

“Yes, this attitude started back in school, when Red confessed to him his sexuality and that he was in love with him. That was probably the happiest and most important moment of their lives, when Ryan, as passionate as his friend, responded with a kiss, and the couple's fate was sealed. And anyone who dared say anything about it would have to deal with him, although at the time he wasn't yet "Big Man Ryan", running away from a fight was never an option.”

“No…. Eric… no… Vanessa”

“Vanessa, that bitch! A single night of thoughtless drinking on Eric's part after a silly fight between the couple and the viper took the opportunity. Bitch! But that night was why Jake was born, and Ry wouldn't know what to do without his little red demon.”

“Jaco… no… dev…”

“It was that wretched Vanessa who put Ryan on the path of civil rights. The bitch, revolted when she was rejected by Red, who committed to assume and take care of the child she was expecting, but not to marry her or have to live with her more than necessary. So she decide to take revenge, telling everyone at school and town about Ryan and Eric's relationship. Which in turn resulted in the biggest beating Eric has ever taken in his life. Upon seeing the condition of his boyfriend, Ry made a promise, which he still faithfully kept to this day: he was going to defend the man of his life with everything he had.

“N…. Nh…”

“It was then, at the end of high school, that the idea of law came to mind. Along with the desire and dedication of physical exercise. Ryan spared no effort to achieve his goals, including using anabolic steroids, after all, not everyone has the genes of a red-haired giant like Eric. The results speak for themselves, Ryan has grown to massive size over the years, though in return he has lost all the hair he was so proud of in his youth.

“N…. no.. no… YEAS!!

Again the exterior manifested the interior modifications. In an instant in Ryan's place stood a huge man, with balding hair, a graying beard, and thick, developed musculature, a match in size for Eric himself.

"And it wasn't just in size that they were a match for each other" The only voice present in Ryan's much less agitated head whispered. And that voice was not wrong, both men had a libido proportional to their height and wingspan, being known to break several beds throughout their married life due to their insatiable and uninhibited sexual appetite.

Closing his eyes again, as his posture relaxed as he accepted reality Ryan felt the last words spoken by his husband echo in his head:

“It's about time you open your eyes to reality, open your eyes to reality, open your eyes… open your eyes!!!

And “Big Man” Ryan, fierce defender of civil rights, amateur bodybuilder, devoted father, loving and warm husband, voracious lover… finally opened his eyes, stretched, while getting up and finally flashed a smile to the love of his life.

“Liking what you see, Red, you old pervert?” He asked with a provocative voice.

“Just admiring the material, and congratulating myself on the investment.” Was the playful response Ryan received as he walked over to meet his husband, while throwing his boxer briefs on the floor leaving his big cock free to swing happily between his legs.

“I think the best investment was mine. I paid for a red hot giant and got a wonderful lover, plus an amazing son as a gift.” Ryan said as he approached Eric.

“By the way, speaking of amazing, have I told you how much I loved that you grew a beard? But I think I prefer your hair longer, there's only room for one big bald man in this house."

“I thought you missed that head full of hair” Eric replied very close to his husband's provocative face.

“What I miss is this mouth sucking my dick and this cock in my ass.” Ryan replied.

“What language is this?” Was Eric's last comment before giving himself to his husband with a passionate kiss. And fuck madly on the living room floor.

And it was with both naked, one next to the other, lying down and soaked in sweat and cum that the couple's son found them.

“You know, some people would be extremely embarrassed to find their parents acting so shamelessly.” A comment made by a smiling Jake, wearing only his underwear, when he saw his parents lying on the floor.

“And since when are we a bunch of Puritans, little devil?” Was the answer he received from a smiling Ryan, while getting up after giving his husband a last passionate kiss and passing by his son and giving him a kiss on the cheek, not caring that he was walking totally naked through the house.

"I'm just going to take a quick shower and get ready for work, you two wait for me before eating."

….

Eric “Red” Campbell was sitting at his desk, after a family breakfast, thinking about life's reminiscences, when he was surprised by a soft kiss on his neck. With a smile on his lips he turned and found the manly but smiling face of his man staring back at him.

“Ready to destroy some bastards, Big Ry?”

"Always! I wouldn't be the infamous Big Man Ryan if Don’t break some idiots, would I?" Ryan replied. “But you know what I'm ready for? Round two! Get ready Red, tonight it's my turn to fuck this big ass.

“And why wait until evening?”

“Don't tempt me, Mr. Campbell.” Was the answer of a smiling Ryan while walking to the door.

Eric turned to the window and watched, mug in hand, as the fine specimen of a man that was his husband trot with steady strides across the front yard toward his huge SUV. With a smile on his lips he thought about how happy he was with his marriage, his son, and the direction his life had taken.

[abysshare]

I feel like this needs to be said but i feel like I'll just be talking to a brick wall for the billionth time.

The ableism of disabled villains in fandom is so beyond tiring. Its bad enough when a grey or protag character gets it.

Today I'll be using Curly from Mouthwashing and William Afton from FNAF as an example.

Curly, isn't really a grey character. Maybe more of a protag, but since we play as Jimmy for most of it, he is kind of an antag. But for this post i will be putting him as a protag. Which reminder.

Protag doesn't mean good guy exactly.

Anyway.

Captain Curly is a burn survivor as well as a disabled man, with no skin, no hands or feet, and is left with one eye. The damage is pretty bad, and the Nurse ( Anya ) has done the best she could with what she had, which is pretty damn good considering all things.

How does the fandom treat him? Its a mixed bag but of course. Ableism.

They either give him "dog buttons", or infantalize him, coquette-ify him, erase the situation just because "its easier" or whatever else. And then theres some people who genuinely try by getting him to a proper hospital so Anya or another doctor can try and fix what they can, as well as give him an AAC device or a wheelchair, so on and so forth.

Its either shit as unfortunately expected or good enough that makes people genuinely do research or call out ableism.

Now lets look at William Afton. A villain, murderer, mad scientist and so forth. For this post I'll be strictly talking about The Fourth Closet William Afton and Burntrap.

For those who are not into FNAF. The Fourth Closet is a seperate timeline from the games, an AU. And Burntrap is TECHNICALLY not William now, but when Security Breach came out, we didn't know this.

A bit more backstory for those who do not know. William has an Animatronic suit that he can go into to perform or kill, but it has these things called springlocks. If something happens, they can go off and hurt and eventually kill him.

Moving on.

William Afton is a Springlock Victim ( and even though no fire happens in the book before the ending of The Fourth Closet, i would argue and say he does indeed have burn scars as well in the graphic novel ) aka ragged Metal throughout his skin.

As Burntrap, he is a metal burned skeleton with leftovers of Springtrap/Scraptrap with burnt flesh.

How does the fandom treat both versions of him?

As Burntrap: some people like him, some don't. Its purely because at the first reveal we all thought it was William himself somehow even though he is supposed to be dead-dead for real. His design CAN be cool, scary and great in the right spotlight.

However.....

Most people took the "haha peepaw" route of memes. Some being ageist and some being ableist. Making him a senile old man in a wheelchair or a walker with Vanny being his caretaker. Most of the time throwing him down the stairs or beating him with his mobility aid or threatening to. Sometimes they would also draw him in diapers with poop in it.

Utterly disgusting, ageist and ableist behavior all because this is a villain.

How do they treat TFC version of William? Well.... i don't see much of him to be frank. But either its coquette-ifying him ( which is just as gross as coquette-ifying Curly ), genuinely calling him pretty or being absolutely being ableist/rancid, or removing his scars all together.

What is the point I'm getting at?

If its a villain, like William, to Darth Vader to Hordak from the She Ra remake, to Belos from TOH.......

They get mocked for their disabilities because abled folks ( and even some disabled folks ) thinks the Villain or whoever deserves it as punishment.

But these same people will turn around and infantilize and baby, or dogify or coquetteify "good guy" disabled characters.

I haven't seen this in the Arcane fandom, while i don't doubt people have been ableist to Jinx, Silco or Viktor , at least it isn't as "loud".

Ableism isn't cute or funny. And while i UNDERSTAND these are characters- and that they are not real.

It HURTs real people.

And I'm talking as a disabled chronic pain person, so don't even start with me.

Ableists and shit will be deleted, ty.

[reelmegabyte]

ever wonder why spotify/discord/teams desktop apps kind of suck?

i don't do a lot of long form posts but. I realized that so many people aren't aware that a lot of the enshittification of using computers in the past decade or so has a lot to do with embedded webapps becoming so frequently used instead of creating native programs. and boy do i have some thoughts about this.

for those who are not blessed/cursed with computers knowledge Basically most (graphical) programs used to be native programs (ever since we started widely using a graphical interface instead of just a text-based terminal). these are apps that feel like when you open up the settings on your computer, and one of the factors that make windows and mac programs look different (bc they use a different design language!) this was the standard for a long long time - your emails were served to you in a special email application like thunderbird or outlook, your documents were processed in something like microsoft word (again. On your own computer!). same goes for calendars, calculators, spreadsheets, and a whole bunch more - crucially, your computer didn't depend on the internet to do basic things, but being connected to the web was very much an appreciated luxury!

that leads us to the eventual rise of webapps that we are all so painfully familiar with today - gmail dot com/outlook, google docs, google/microsoft calendar, and so on. as html/css/js technology grew beyond just displaying text images and such, it became clear that it could be a lot more convenient to just run programs on some server somewhere, and serve the front end on a web interface for anyone to use. this is really very convenient!!!! it Also means a huge concentration of power (notice how suddenly google is one company providing you the SERVICE) - you're renting instead of owning. which means google is your landlord - the services you use every day are first and foremost means of hitting the year over year profit quota. its a pretty sweet deal to have a free email account in exchange for ads! email accounts used to be paid (simply because the provider had to store your emails somewhere. which takes up storage space which is physical hard drives), but now the standard as of hotmail/yahoo/gmail is to just provide a free service and shove ads in as much as you need to.

webapps can do a lot of things, but they didn't immediately replace software like skype or code editors or music players - software that requires more heavy system interaction or snappy audio/visual responses. in 2013, the electron framework came out - a way of packaging up a bundle of html/css/js into a neat little crossplatform application that could be downloaded and run like any other native application. there were significant upsides to this - web developers could suddenly use their webapp skills to build desktop applications that ran on any computer as long as it could support chrome*! the first applications to be built on electron were the late code editor atom (rest in peace), but soon a whole lot of companies took note! some notable contemporary applications that use electron, or a similar webapp-embedded-in-a-little-chrome as a base are:

microsoft teams

notion

vscode

discord

spotify

anyone! who has paid even a little bit of attention to their computer - especially when using older/budget computers - know just how much having chrome open can slow down your computer (firefox as well to a lesser extent. because its just built better <3)

whenever you have one of these programs open on your computer, it's running in a one-tab chrome browser. there is a whole extra chrome open just to run your discord. if you have discord, spotify, and notion open all at once, along with chrome itself, that's four chromes. needless to say, this uses a LOT of resources to deliver applications that are often much less polished and less integrated with the rest of the operating system. it also means that if you have no internet connection, sometimes the apps straight up do not work, since much of them rely heavily on being connected to their servers, where the heavy lifting is done.

taking this idea to the very furthest is the concept of chromebooks - dinky little laptops that were created to only run a web browser and webapps - simply a vessel to access the google dot com mothership. they have gotten better at running offline android/linux applications, but often the $200 chromebooks that are bought in bulk have almost no processing power of their own - why would you even need it? you have everything you could possibly need in the warm embrace of google!

all in all the average person in the modern age, using computers in the mainstream way, owns very little of their means of computing.

i started this post as a rant about the electron/webapp framework because i think that it sucks and it displaces proper programs. and now ive swiveled into getting pissed off at software services which is in honestly the core issue. and i think things can be better!!!!!!!!!!! but to think about better computing culture one has to imagine living outside of capitalism.

i'm not the one to try to explain permacomputing specifically because there's already wonderful literature ^ but if anything here interested you, read this!!!!!!!!!! there is a beautiful world where computers live for decades and do less but do it well. and you just own it. come frolic with me Okay ? :]

*when i say chrome i technically mean chromium. but functionally it's same thing

[writersblog20]

Captain crunch and the future

Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: After a big and very exciting opportunity, you tried to unwind and relax a bit and how else would you do that other than hanging out with Pedro Pascal, a joint, some music and a box of captain crunch

Warnings: so much fluff, reader gets picked up by Pedro, weed, joints, edibles, mention of anxiety, age-gap (not mentioned tho but reader is in mid-twenties), friends to lovers

Words: 4,8K

A/N: I just wanted to make clear that I’m not sexualizing the word: Baby girl. It just makes my heart warm up and feel fuzzy inside. I just want to be Pedro’s baby girl

Captain crunch and the future

You were currently located in LA since your uncle was a famous DJ who you worked for as a videographer, photographer and graphic designer. You did also a lot of pr work for him as a part of your studies. Kind of like an internship but you knew that this was going to be a big part of your job which you were fine with. You loved your uncle and the work. You kind of had a brother and sister relationship. Besides, you both came from nothing and had to build up this career. You’ve been through a lot of shit together and he openly admitted that you kept him grounded. Reminded him of who he really was and where he came from.

But maybe the most part that you enjoyed a lot was that one of his good friends who is Pedro Pascal. You had a crush on him and loved when he would come over. But because you were both so busy, you hadn’t really had a lot of time to get to know each other. Yes you’ve drank some beers together but that was always with a group of people. He was always kind to you though, which always made your heart skip a beat. The soft glances that you both gave each other and would smile sweetly. You’ve caught him looking at you multiple times before and every time that you caught him, it brought butterflies to your stomach.

Tonight your uncle was giving a party but you had the opportunity to attend a festival, known as Coachella and photograph the artists on stage so for obvious reasons, you took the job. It was a big part of your dream and it made you extremely excited.

Pedro stayed at your uncles house for a while as well. He had a acting job close to your uncles house so your uncle invited him in and you couldn’t be more excited about that because that meant that you would see each other more often and interact with him. For some reason Pedro gave you so much comfort just by being near. You felt very attached to him, he made you feel safe and brought you for some unknown reason, peace. So that’s one of the many reasons that you liked him near you.

Today was the day that you would have that festival and you were almost jumping through the roof. This was such a huge opportunity that you couldn’t even believe it and you did it all yourself. Without any help from people who could easily get you in. No, you wanted them to want you for your talent and for your hard work. That felt the most fair for you. You didn’t want to be that person who got in because someone powerful. That just felt wrong to you. You wanted people to see you for your work and hire you for that reason.

You happily walked into the kitchen with a bright smile. “Good morning!” you cheered and Pedro and your uncle were laughing at your excitement. They were happy and excited for you too, matching your energy. And like I said, your uncle knew where you came from and look at you now.

Pedro was making pancakes while your uncle was working on something. “There you go princesa. You need some good breakfast before you go to work.” You felt flustered by the nickname. It was the first time he used a pet name for you and you felt all fuzzy from it. You smiled shyly, which he returned, and thanked him. You dug in the pancakes and they were some of the best pancakes you’ve ever had and before you knew it, your plate was empty. “That was really good! Thank you Pedge!” This was the first time you gave him a nickname as well and you could see Pedro blush and get flustered. His smile was as bright as the sun while he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome sweetie.” He was anxiously standing around and this time your uncle looked up in suspicion from the interaction between the two of you.

You brought your plate and mug to the counter and grabbed your stuff and let out a deep shaky breath. “okay, I’m gonna go. Whish me good luck!” you told them and kissed your uncle on his cheek as they whished you all the best and gave you some encouraging words before you left.

~time skip~

It was 1 AM and you finally made your way home. This was the best experience you’ve ever had and you knew that it was going to be tough to get some sleep from all the adrenaline running through your body but you were still too tired to go to your uncles party right now. The thought of changing into something nice for the party while your whole body felt like it’s been hit by a truck (Ten times), you felt dirty from all the sweating and the idea of getting into some serious conversations was something that you’d rather skip for now.

You walked through a side door so you wouldn’t encounter any people on your way in. But Pedro saw you the moment you came into vision and all of a sudden, the party didn’t matter for him anymore. He wanted to hang and chill with you. Hear your stories about how it was. That was his favorite thing actually, hear you speak about things that you felt passionate about. The internet would call him a ray of sunshine but they would think different if they met you. Because you were the true sunshine in his mind. The way you shined was contagious and even though you never chilled just the two of you, you had that effect on everyone around you.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me right now?” Oscar joked as he swatted Pedro’s arm. He couldn’t look away from the spot where you were just seconds ago. Pedro snapped out of it “Ehh, sorry what?” he awkward chuckled. Oscar had met you too and loved you for obvious reasons but he could see that his best friend was falling head over heels for you. “You like her don’t you?” Oscar asked with a smile. Pedro started to blush and chuckle awkwardly. “I eh…. Yeah, I like to hang with her.” Of course Oscar immediately knew that he was skipping over the question. “Come on now Pedro.” Pedro shushed him a little while looking around, hoping that nobody heard them. Oscar chuckled “Then go to her. I bet she wants someone to talk to right now. She had a very eventful day I bet.” Oscar encouraged him. “Yeah, but I’m here with you.” Oscar waved him off. “I’m going to go home to my wife anyway so come on hot shot, go and talk to her.” Pedro hugged Oscar and made his way inside.

Pedro walked into the kitchen (Your uncle had such a big house that it had 2 kitchens. You could say it was two houses in one. So on the other side was the party and this side it was your space.) You weren’t there so he walked around a bit until he heard the shower. He found himself relax a little, knowing where you were right now. Pedro went to his own room and quickly changed into something more comfortable before walking downstairs again.

You got out of the shower and put on your oversized pajamas. You got your edibles, joint and your plushy with a heating pad inside and made your way downstairs. You were met with Pedro who was leaning on the counter, scrolling through, what you figured was Tiktok and eating some captain crunch straight from the box. His hair was a bit ruffled and he was wearing some funny, yet cute pajamas. He looked so comfy that you just wanted to cuddle with him. The familiar butterflies came back and you smiled softly.

“Don’t want to attend the party either?” you asked him with a soft smile playing upon your lips. He quickly looked up and the cutest smile appeared on his face when he looked at you. You felt your heart swell up and you quickly looked down. “I was there for a couple of hours but then I saw that you came home and I wanted to know how it went. If you want to talk about it of course!” He quickly added. You smiled and was so happy that you could tell someone. You nodded and walked over to him. You placed your plushy in the microwave and put on the tea kettle before sitting on the kitchen counter next to Pedro who was standing besides you and was following your moves.

You started telling him all about it and how you managed to connect with bigger artists. It was like your dream was about to come true. Pedro couldn’t wipe away the smile that was plastered permanently on his face from how passionate you talked about it.

You made yourself a cup of tea and one for Pedro. You popped an edible in your mouth and Pedro raised his eyebrow up in amusement. “What was that?” he asked you, knowing fully well what it was. You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Eh… Edibles…. I just want to sleep and I know with the adrenaline I have right now, I won’t.” Pedro chuckled “So…. You have another one?” he asked you carefully. You looked up at him surprised. “Yeah, you want one?” you offered and got one out of your pocket, handing it to him. He smiled again. “Thank you very much.” He giggled a little, releasing sparks in your stomach. He ate the edible and you showed the joint to him. “So…. You want to get high right?” you asked him, holding the joint up. Pedro smirked “God I love you.”  you giggled at his reaction.

You got the tea and you both settled down in the lounge room where you could smoke. The room was softly lit with some neon lights and some salt lamps. You sat in the comfy couch, holding the heating plushy against your abdomen. Pedro put some music on and plopped next to you. You noticed that Pedro took the captain crunch with him and you chuckled when he got a hand full out of the box and offered you a couple, which you gladly took.

“Never expected to share a box of cereal with you while getting high.” You chuckled and Pedro as well when he thought about it. You lit the joint and leaned back more while Pedro looked at you, without you knowing it. He watched the way you inhaled the smoke, how your shoulders started to relax, how you leaned your head against the cushions while staring at the ceiling, how your lips got attached to the joint as you inhaled more smoke and slowly puffing it out before handing the joint to Pedro.

It was quiet but more like a comfortable silence with the music playing in the background. You were finally starting to relax as the adrenaline wore off and Pedro noticed since your head slowly started to lean against his shoulder. He had a soft and adoring smile as he took a puff from the joint. His head started to lean more against yours, both slumped into the couch. “Thank you Pedge.” You told him, taking him by surprise but yet the nickname you gave him started to flutter his heart. “For what baby girl?” the new nickname he gave you made you feel all the fuzzy feelings

“Just being here. With me.” Pedro readjusted his position and sat a little up. “It’s my pleasure. I like hanging out with you.” you couldn’t hide the smile that creeped up your face. “I like hanging out with you too. Even though, we never really hang out together. You know, just the two of us.” You told him and Pedro started to sing “Just the two of ussss.” He giggled as so did you and softly hit his arm while he laughed. Yeah, typical Pedro, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Pedro got the captain crunch box and placed it between the two of you, eating some as he slumped back into the couch. Your eyelids started to feel heavy from how fuzzy you felt inside. The warmth radiating of off Pedro, your heating plushy, how the weed kicked in and just how comfortable and safe you felt around Pedro made you sleepy and finally relaxed. “Can we do this more often?” you mumbled tiredly. Pedro chuckled softly. “Of course we can sweetheart. I’d love to.” You leaned more against him but this time you didn’t do it subconsciously which took him by surprise. He got his arm from behind you and placed it over your shoulder, pulling you closer and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

You both listened to the music and you felt how your body started to ache when you finally relaxed a bit. You closed your eyes and didn’t knew when it happened but you fell asleep on Pedro’s shoulder.

Pedro was deep in thought about you. This all felt so natural and well, it felt like home. You felt like home. He was at peace when you were around and when you weren’t, it was like a big piece was missing. He was debating to tell you that he liked you but he was petrified to loose you. “I really like you baby girl…” he whispered, holding his breath from anxiety but when you didn’t respond to him, he looked over at you, fast asleep, drooling a tiny bit on his sweater. He smiled adoringly at you, sort of happy that you didn’t hear it and things were still the same but that also meant that the nagging feeling was still there.

Pedro let out a soft sigh from relief and figured he should bring you upstairs. He stood up carefully and placed his arm underneath your legs and your back, picking you up. He slightly groaned because of his back. He knew that his back was going to kill him but he didn’t have the heart to wake you up. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and neck, still asleep and snuggled your face against his chest as you mumbled something in your sleep. His heart felt like it was going to burst from all the love he felt radiating for you.

You were stirring a bit but was still fast asleep until Pedro gently placed you on your bed. You immediately laid down on your side and Pedro carefully tucked you in and placed a kiss on your forehead, ready to exit your room until you quickly grabbed his hand. Pedro got startled for a minute, not expecting you to wake up or anything. “Please stay…” it almost sounded beggingly. Pedro looked into your heavy eyes, his heart and stomach going loose with butterflies. He nodded and without saying anything, crawled next to you in bed. You turned around, waiting for him to be comfortable.

“Come here baby girl.” He said with a raspy voice, hinting that he was comfortable. You immediately let your head rest on his chest with your arms wrapped around him. His hand was in your hair, comforting you while the other drew circles on your back and it didn’t take you long before you fell into a peaceful sleep again.

Pedro stared lovingly at you. It almost became unbearable to not tell you about how he truly felt. He wanted to shout it out on every roof that he was completely and utterly in love with you and how proud he would be if he could call you his girl. God the thought of it was bittersweet but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally he convinced himself to tell you the next day. At the beach if you fell up for it and with that thought, he finally fell asleep himself.

You woke up, a little confused as to what happened. Your mind still foggy when you tried to gather every bit of information from the day before. The festival…. God the festival already felt like a dream as if it never happened. You felt a pair of arms tightening around your waist and got pulled towards a chest. You looked up and saw Pedro. You smiled and already felt calmer. Everything just felt safe when Pedro was around you. it scared you because no one ever felt safe but with Pedro… he was your home. You’ve never really had a feeling of a true home but you would bet money on it that it would feel like when you’re with Pedro.

The sun was shining through your curtains and a ray of sunshine fell on Pedro’s face, waking him up with a grumble. It was almost ironical. A sunshine on (a bit of a grumpy) sunshine. You chuckled when Pedro slowly woke up from the sun in his eyes. He turned towards you so he would be away from the sun and slowly opened his eyes, to find you already with a soft smile looking back at him. Pedro couldn’t help but smile back, you just had that effect on him. “Good morning.” You greeted him with a soft smile. “Good morning sweetheart.” He told you and pulled you closer to him and kissed the top of your head.

You were more than happy to oblige for the hug. Your head resting on his chest again with a permanent smile on your face. “I don’t mind waking up like this.” It slipped out before you realized. Pedro just chuckled and you hoped that he wouldn’t think too much about it and find out about your crush on him. But of course he did. Pedro was already far away in his mind, trying to figure out if you meant something with that or not. Your phone went off and you saw that Pedro had put your phone in the charger before he crawled next to you last night.

You got out, not expecting a phone call from anyone so it got you curious. Especially since it was a day after the festival and it might had something to do with that. You didn’t recognize the number and frowned but answered it. You looked at Pedro who sat up, leaning on his elbows. “Hello, good morning, Y/N/ Y/L/N speaking” you greeted the other person.

Pedro looked at how your aura was visible in the sun and how magical you looked at this moment. You always looked magical but now… with the sun shining down on you, it was like a fairytale, like magic. You were magic. He got abruptly out of his thoughts when you became extremely excited and silently started jumping around, while playing it cool on the telephone. “Yeah, that is amazing! I’d love to! Yeah….yeah I’ll see your email soon. Thank you. You too, bye!” You hang up and Pedro quickly got out of the bed, knowing that something amazing just happened.

“They asked me to do more festivals and I’ve been asked to be the photographer for multiple concert avenues and even artists want to work with me! Not only for photography but also with graphic designs!" Pedro was flabbergast just as you but so extremely happy for you. “Oh my god!” he told you and held out his arms open for you to jump in and you did. He twirled you around while you laughed, still from disbelieve. “I need to tell my uncle!” you told him abrupt and got out of the hug, way too excited as you ran down the stairs, alarming everyone who might have still been asleep. Your uncle quickly came to your side, thinking that something bad had happened. He looked up where you came from and saw Pedro. He was already frowning but the moment he saw your wide smile, he knew that you were okay and that you were just excited.

You told him the same thing and he picked you up from happiness and twirled you around as well. “I’m so proud of you! Look at us now!!” you both whipped away some happy tears and gave each other another hug. “Hey! You still going to work for me right???” you knew that he was scared that you would leave. “Of course I will! I might need some help so maybe I need to start a business and stuff” Your head already going three thousand per mile. “But yeah, yeah no I won’t leave! Unless you want me to but otherwise, no.” your uncle grabbed you in a hug again. “Good.” Was all he said, stopping you from rambeling.

~Time skip~

The morning was chaotic and you were completely running on adrenaline right now and when Pedro asked you to join him on a, more remote spot on the beach and get high you couldn’t say no. You would never say no to Pedro. The driver of your uncle dropped the both of you off. You and Pedro chatted while walking to his secret spot. When you arrived, it took your breath away. It was gorgeous. You just stood there for a minute, taking in the view when Pedro walked up to you and stood beside you.

“I understand why you come here so often. It’s gorgeous here.” You told him without looking away from the view. Pedro nodded, not saying anything. He wanted to tell you that you were a better view. That you are gorgeous and that he didn’t needed to go to this place when you are around because you are so much more breath taking than this view but he couldn’t. So he decided to just nod and say: “Yeah it’s pretty amazing.” He chuckled a bit nervously.

You both started unpacking and put some music on before diving into the water. You giggled when the cold water hit your skin. It was refreshing more than anything else. Pedro came walking up to you and stood next to you. You looked at him but he was already looking at you with a loving smile that made you feel all fuzzy inside and shy. You couldn’t help but giggle from nervousness that he also gave you. He chuckled as well and softly splashed some water on you.

You did it back and before you knew it you both had a whole water fight. You got more into the deeper part and Pedro started to swim. You looked a little around, feeling a bit nervous. You loved swimming but you were slightly afraid of what laid underneath the water. Just the thought of it made you wince. “Come on!” Pedro yelled excitedly. You took a step closer but that was the part where you needed to swim. Pedro immediately noticed your discomfort and swam towards you. “You can hold on to me and rest on my back.” he told you with a soft smile. He didn’t made you feel like you were overexaggerating or belittling you for being scared. No nothing like that, he would never. Instead he tried to help you out and well, it also gave you just another excuse to be closer to him. “Are you sure?” you asked because of his back pains. “We’re in the water baby girl. It’s okay.” He chuckled a bit and you agreed.

Your arms loosely hanging around his shoulder and your head resting on your arm and against the side of his head. You felt so fuzzy inside, from the man below you and the sun hitting your skin, it felt like you were walking on the 9th cloud.

After a while of swimming, you both laid down on the towels with the joint between your fingers and after a couple of hits, you passed it down to Pedro. You laid on your stomach with your face towards Pedro. “Thank you, Pedge. For this and last night ya know.” Pedro smiled shyly “Trust me it’s my pleasure darling.” You smiled and took the joint back when Pedro passed it down back to you. “We should really hang out more.” you told him and you saw sparks in his eyes, making you smile brightly. “I’d like that idea.” You nodded “Yeah I mean we’ve hung out before but never together. Well since last night that is.” Pedro smiled and thought back to the moment.

“Last night… you said something when I was half asleep… what did you say?” you asked him. You heard him but you weren’t sure if that was something that happened in your dream or if he really said it. Pedro looked shocked and that was almost all you need to know. Pedro became flustered, started blushing and stuttering a little, panic visible in his eyes. “So you do like me. I thought it was just a dream.” You told him softly. Pedro was too scared to say anything since you haven’t confirmed it or denied him. “I’m glad it wasn’t though.” You whispered softly as you played with your nails.

Relief, happiness, excitement washed over him and he immediately relaxed more. Pedro laid down on his stomach as well and softly grabbed your hand where you were playing with your nails. His digits softly going over them before placing a kiss on the back of your hand. You smiled and felt yourself grow a bit shy. “I’m glad you heard me in that case.” He chuckled softly, making you chuckle as well, both connecting your eyes.

The laughter slowly died down and all there was visible was adoration in each other’s eyes for one another. “I’m glad you told me.” your voice barely a whisper. Pedro looked down for a bit, blush visible on his cheeks again when he looked up, soft smile lingering on his face. He moved closer to you and cupped your face, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek. He looked down at your lips and licked his own before connecting his to you. It was soft and sensual, releasing all the butterflies in your stomach. Pedro took his time with kissing you, wanting to put all his love in the kiss and oh boy did he do that.  

When he pulled away you both started chuckling again. “Let’s not tell my uncle this yet.” You told him with a nervous chuckle which Pedro duplicated. “That sounds like a good idea right now. I’d like to spend some more time with you before he's going to kill me." he chuckled and gave you another sweet kiss. Yeah, you’re uncle is going to kill him. (not really but he won’t make it easy on Pedro either even though he is one of the best guys on this planet. He was dating you and boy was he overprotective.) “So… did he tell you about his new shows he’s going to?” you asked him amused and Pedro’s face fell a bit. “Oh no he didn’t. But that means you need to go too right?” he asked you, trying his best to hide the disappointment but you saw right through him.

“No silly. That’s why I asked. He’s gone for 5 days, working with other guys and gave me some time off.” you chuckled and sat up. Pedro’s eyes lighting up. “Really? That’s great! I can take you out on a proper date, we can go to the movies together, go to a museum, maybe even a concert….” You stopped Pedro from talking with a kiss and a chuckle from his rambling. “I’d love too. But I’d like to hang out with you at home as well. Just some quality time.” You told him with a soft smile and the adoration in his eyes had never reached this high. “God, how I like you baby girl.” You chuckled and pulled him in for a longer kiss, laying back on your back as he hang slightly above you.

You couldn’t help but pull him in for a hug. Your heat just ached for it and he chuckled, kissing your cheek and forehead. “I’ll always keep you safe, baby girl.” He told you and looked you in the eye. You smiled softly. “I know.” Pedro kissed your lips again and pulled back with a smile. “Good.” You smiled back and you couldn’t be more excited for the future. With everything coming up and to be able to share that with Pedro… that was what made it even better.

[chaosduckies]

Friends In Small Places (Chapter 1)

The size shifter story is finally here! This is more of a slightly sad piece, even though this first chapter isn’t really all that gloomy and monochrome, I actually have this entire plot line planned out and everything, and whew is the ending going to be something.

But I hope you enjoy! (this chapter is mainly just for introductions so I’m sorry if there really isn’t anything interesting TwT)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Depression, major anxiety, slight gore warning? (Though nothing actually happens)

1-Liam

Today the main hall was bustling with people crowding the board that had all of the activities and clubs posted on. Most of the time people didn’t care all too much about it, only the people who were actually in those clubs, but today was different for some reason. Fitting in between the seemingly hundreds of people, I saw what the commotion was all about. The psychology classes were all being called to a meeting at four. Which was when most classes ended, but still. It’s rare that this school ever calls meetings. It just so happens that I was taking psychology though. 

I sighed, moving back on the free sidewalk get to the library. A friend was waiting for me to help her study for a test she had in just a few hours. I thought I might as well help seeing that I’ve already taken the course. I used to think that college was extremely strict from how my old high school teachers described it, but in reality it’s not that hard when you just take the time to study and take a few practice tests the day before one. It was just two-and-a-half years before I major in psychology and become a therapist. Well, that was my dream anyways. In this world, it was a lot harder given that most therapists get assigned to a size shifter. That was something I didn’t want to do. Well, maybe if it was one who could only shrink, but that’s maybe it. It freaks me out knowing that there are some shifters who could be as tall as a small skyscraper, and some even bigger. A shiver ran down my spine even thinking about it. But that won’t happen. 

Among the few people sitting at the quiet tables lines with pencils, a few pieces of notebook paper, and a lamp that barely even worked, there was a girl waving her arms around aimlessly trying to gain my attention. I laughed softly before walking and sitting down next to her. It seemed she had been here for hours with how she kept her space. Papers spewed all across with scribbled down notes that was barely even legible, colored pens in a mixed mess with her other writing supplies. It made you wonder how she had even made it to college. 

“I see you’ve been hard at work, Rhya.” I set my slightly heavy bag down and started attempting to clean up the vast sums of paper all over the desk and try to keep her notes in order. 

“Yeah well, not everyone can be all neat and tidy as you are.” She lightly elbowed me before grabbing the stack of papers in my hand and shoving them in a folder. I guess she was going to re-do them after all. Either that or she didn’t need them. Despite this being primarily a nursing and health school, Rhya was in the art department. Of course she had to take the core classes along with her own elective, but she plans on becoming a graphic designer. 

“It’s not my fault I know how to study and you don’t.” I joked around, watching her pull out her computer and grab a few empty pages on notebook paper and her calculus book. 

“And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to have any fun.” She stuck her tongue out playfully before pulling up a practice test. 

“Hey I know how to have fun, just not when I know I have better things to worry about.” She solved the first problem right, pumping her fist up in the air as she wrote down the question and highlighted everything she needed to do. I’m also guessing she planned to study whatever notes she was making. 

“I guess you have a point. How’s that psychology major coming along?” She had asked, writing down the problem and attempting to solve it. I sighed, pointing to the number she was missing, “You square root that,” Rhya groaned, “It’s going good. We have some kind of weird meeting later today though.” 

“Oh? Do you know what about?” Rhya asked, but I could tell she was hiding something from me. She knew something. 

“No. Do you?” I skeptically looked at her, earning a side eye right back as she had paused her writing for a moment. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” She grumbled, I shook my head, a slight smile forming on my face. She knew I would win this argument. 

“Okay well, this might not be true, but I heard that a few psychology students were chosen to have a training. Like, the real deal kind of thing. Size shifter and all. That the ones chosen were supposed to act like one of those special therapists.” My heart nearly skipped a beat at the news. Where did she even hear this from in the first place? There’s no way that’s even real. 

“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed nervously. Even if it was true, I doubt they’d choose a sophomore. I’ve only really had a few practices and I still have a couple more years until I become the real deal. 

“Would I lie to you?” She turned to me, a worried look on her face. Did she think I would have to go through with that? I sincerely doubt it. There was no way they’d put me on whatever list they have going on. Maybe my upperclassman though. They could choose Chelsey, she was really good with everyone and a senior. They’d most likely choose her. Maybe even Ryan since he was really experienced. Actually, he was a size shifter himself, but he’s so good at controlling his emotions that he doesn’t even need to worry about accidentally shooting up a couple feet. 

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I doubt they choose someone with barely any experience. Don't’ worry about it.” I smiled, pointing back to Rhya’s computer to tell her that she needed to get to studying and stop worrying about me. Seriously, she really needed to study otherwise she was going to fail. I can almost guarantee that she’ll be crying to me later when she fails her test. Not my fault she doesn’t study. 

——————

The gym was a large space, but our entire class only took up one tiny portion of the bleacher space as our instructor and several other people dressed up in fancy suits were talking on the ground. I sat next to Ryan, who was playing with the green-colored band on his wrist, showing that he was in one of the five classes of size shifters. Purple represented that they could shrink down to an inch or maybe even smaller if their emotions had the better of them. Blue represented that they could shrink too, but not as much as the one’s with a purple wrist. Green represented that they could both shrink and grow, but only to a certain height. Yellow meant that the shifter could grow to be the size of about a small building, or maybe even a little more depending on how they’re feeling. Red was by far the worst one. To me at least. The shifter’s with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Which was why all shifters with a red band were all forced to be with a specialized therapist for only them. Because if they lose control of their emotions, it could end pretty badly.  

“I’m glad you all saw the announcement on the board. I’m a little surprised really.” Mr. Smith shoved his hands in his front pant pockets, taking a look at all of us before his eyes laid on me, smiling warmly. Why? Something was up. 

“These two gentlemen here are the head of the SSU. Also known as the company that helps size shifters in need. Recently, there has been a shortage of individuals that are willing to work with shifters in helping them control themselves. These two are on the look for candidates-in-training to help fill those missing spots.” 

The two men in suits walked to the front, holding out a clipboard. Those had whoever was going to be picked for this. But why this school? There was another college not too far from here. They could choose from them. Unless they were, and the “tiny” shortage was actually a big one. Or… no. They wouldn’t do that, right? It’s the SSU, they’ve literally helped the world become safer for decades. They wouldn’t be doing an experiment, would they? 

“It’s wonderful to see all sixty-two of you young scholars gathered here today. As your professor already said, we are both from the head office at SSU looking for the best of the best to fill in those empty spots, regardless if you do or don’t have any experience.” That last part made a shiver run down my spine. Ryan turned his head to me, patting me on the back. There was no way they’d choose a nobody like me. No way in hell. 

“This list contains twenty of you who will be taking part in this. You will be in charge of taking care of your designated partner until we can find a professional replacement suited well enough to take over. If I call your name, please stay behind after we dismiss everyone.” The tall man smiled, looking down at the clipboard and calling several names. The anxiety pricked my skin like icicle shards, it had almost seemed like the man reading off names was speaking in slow motion. A few deep breaths, and it was back to normal. 

“Ryan Wright.” He smiled while earning several compliments and congratulations from his fellow classmates. 

“Chelsey Torres.” She giggled a few seats away from us. 

“And Liam Rover.” 

My muscles tensed up at the mention of my name. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or if it was just beating horrifyingly fast. I could tell people were trying to praise me, but I couldn’t hear, their appraisal only reaching my ears in a muffled and slow manner. I managed the most sincere smile I could while trying to hide how much I was trembling. Maybe this would be okay? Maybe I’ll be lucky and not be paired up with a shifter who could potentially crush me between two if their fingers if they really wished to. Was the room cold or was it just me? 

“Everyone else may head to their dorms. Thank you for coming.” 

After everyone had filed out of the empty gym, the other shorter man dressed in an identical suit as the taller one started calling out our names all over again, handing them a red folder with presumedly the shifter we’ll be assigned. Was this how it was when you’re actually a professional? You just get assigned to one? You don’t get to know them or anything? 

Once I was handed my folder, I dreaded every single second of opening it. Please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be eas-

Oh. 

It was only a picture of who we were partnered up with and anything that might be worth mentioning about them. Wow was I overreacting. Then again, that didn’t exactly smoothen out the anxiety that was still pricking at my skin. Though, this shifter didn’t seem so bad. If anything, he actually looked pretty nice. The only thing I had noticed was that he was diagnosed with depression. He kind of looked like it too if I were being honest. It seemed hard for him to smile for the picture. Why did I also get the hint that he wasn’t feeling very good either? I guess I’ll find out when we officially meet. 

“Inside you’ll find who your partner will be for the foreseeable future. You’ll still be coming to your classes, which was why we mainly wanted to stick with the upperclassmen, and afterward go back to where we are currently housing your designated shifter. You have three days to pack everything you need and want, and you’ll soon be living off campus. Just think of it was having a roommate that needs constant supervision.” 

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I’m almost entirely confident that this shifter won’t really be a big deal. I mean, he looks about a year or two younger than me. So he just graduated high school? Agh, I have no idea. I’m just jumping to conclusions. But, hopefully they won’t make me handle anything crazy. That I can’t do. 

——————

They were driving me across the city to go meet up with the shifter I’ll be taking care of for however long. For all I know it could be a few days or weeks. I would think someone would want to step up for the job instead of letting students do this, but I guess not. Chelsey and Ryan have texted me a few times that they were getting settled in already while I was still heading over. It was already around thirty minutes just to get across the place, so that means I’ll have to take a bus almost everyday just to make it to my classes. That’s just great, but I’m in no position to complain. I actually tried talking with Professor Smith about it, but he told me that he had no say in the matter at all, which was weird. I doubt he would want his younger students to even take part in this. 

Along the streets were the many, many buildings that both accommodated for humans and their much larger or smaller companions. Although I’ve only ever been around Ryan about twice when he’s giant, it really wasn’t that bad. He can only grow till someone was like the height if his entire hand so it really wasn’t even that bad. Of course it’s still nerve-racking, but I trust him. Plus, we were at a small party with our little friend group. I doubt he could even bring himself to hurt someone. So really I wasn’t too worried. The only other shifter I’ve been around is an old high school friend of mine, but she goes to a different college now. 

Hundred of houses passed by us as we drove into a little neighborhood. What really made me worried was that the driver wasn’t exactly stopping at the normal-sized houses. Where was he going? I watched grimly as some of the huge houses we passed by came to a halt to one on the very end of one of the many streets. This one wasn’t as big as the other one’s down the street, but it wasn’t exactly small either. At least to me. So… I was paired up with a shifter who could only grow. That’s great. Just… great. 

I grabbed my bag and the small suitcase I had brought with me that was just full of my clothes and some stuff for school. Well if I’m supposed to stay here almost all of the time now I have to find something to keep me busy. And apparently from the immense size difference that will be between my new roommate and I. Of course I was terrified! If he really is diagnosed with depression and was a shifter who grew that only made matters worse for me. I hope whoever plans to take over for me does it soon. 

It took me and the driver to reach the doorstep, but eventually the driver gave it a knock. I swear I could hear some mumbling coming from the other side, but I didn’t dwell too much on that. Most.y because the extremely large door started to open slowly, but I saw no one on the other side. Maybe he was shy? 

“Well I may take my leave, though I have been ordered to tell you that a bus comes in the morning at around 6 just down the street from here, and another will take you back here around 5 and 8. Also, if anything goes wrong, to call this number on your phone.” He handed me a folded slip of paper, then took his leave. I shoved the slip in my pocket, hesitantly taking a few steps into the huge house. 

It was neatly cleaned around the place, though I couldn’t really see from my view on the ground. Everything around me was huge. I mean I’ve been to one of the rooms on the bigger side of the campus, but those rooms were smaller. It’s not an entire house filled with furniture. 

As I took a few steps out more, I jumped when the door had lightly closed behind me. My eyes trailed up and up, finding the face of the person I had seen in the picture. His eyes grew wide when I met his gaze, then bit the bottom of his lip before sliding his back against the wall behind him. 

Everything in my body told me to run, but if I did then I would only get scolded for it later. This isn’t even what I wanted to be! I wanted to be a normal therapist that helps regular adults and kids feel better. Not a human who could easily trap me in a fist and just kill me. I would have been fine if they could only shrink, but this was much worse. 

I faced down, taking a few deep breaths that barely even help me in this situation. I had to take care of someone fifty times my own size? How was that even possible? There weren’t even any smaller sized things around this place. Nothing that could help me get around easier either! 

I guess I could attempt to get his name. I mean, nothing could go wrong then, right? Just maybe from a distance… even if he could, at any point in time, just grab me whenever he so wanted. I felt sick just thinking about being held. Wouldn’t I have to be though? I can’t exactly just climb everywhere I want to go. 

“H-hi. Um, I’m Liam.” I forced myself to walk closer, even under his gaze, but I stopped walking closer when he moved himself further in the corner, looking a bit saddened. He probably knew I was scared. Maybe. I hope I’m some-what hiding it well enough. Though, I’ve never really been that good at it. 

“Oh, um, C-Casper. You can call me Cas if you want.” He kept his voice to a very quiet whisper. So he knew that if he talked too loud it would hurt my ears. At least he’s self-aware. Though, I couldn’t help but feel bad. I may be utterly terrified of him, but I mean he hasn’t really given me a reason to be truly scared, yet. 

“Nice to m-meet you, Cas.” I put on my best fake genuine smile. What? Have to find some way to convince him I wasn’t scared. Even if my body was trembling like crazy and my heart threatened to just come right out of my mouth. 

“Y-you too, sir.” His hand slightly twitched, but he just shook his head, giving me a sad look. ‘Sir?’ Why did he call me that? I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I turned to look at the place, not finding a place to put my stuff. I sighed, hurrying to place it up against the wall opposite of Cas. This would be fine. Yeah, yeah. 

Casper, overall, seemed pretty nice. He had a black, messy hair that complimented his light-brown eyes. He wore a baggy long-sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans I have no idea why he was just wearing jeans in his own house, but it’s whatever he wants to do. Not my place to comment. The only real thing that caught my attention were the light bags in his eyes. Has he been sleeping? 

“Did you want to come here? Like, willingly?” He had asked, slightly leaning a little closer to my spot in the middle of the floor. I admit, it made me a little uneasy, but I don’t think he realized it. It just made it really hard to answer his question when all I could think about was how easily he could kill me right now. He wouldn’t do that, right? He seems so nice. Even if I’m barely two inches to him and I could easily just be crushed or accidentally killed if he wasn’t being too mindful. I shuddered at the thought, but forced my voice to work with me. 

“I-I’m just a student at a college. They just told us we were going to help out shifters, for like, real-world training I guess.” I started speaking a little fast and I could hear my voice slowly get quieter the more Cas seemed to lower his body to me. I felt so small compared to him. It’s overwhelming really, but it’s not like I can just back out. I already asked and they said if I did then I wasn’t cut out to stay in the classes. Seriously, all I wanted was to either be a therapist or a social worker. Not take on these huge responsibilities of making sure an entire living being is doing okay and doesn’t have any malicious intent to just… Aghhhh. 

“Oh. Well, I’m not exactly the best person to be paired up with.” He laughed sadly, holding up his wrist and revealing a red band. A little squeak left my mouth as I stood in place, practically frozen in fear. Why did they pair me up with him? They gave me more than I can handle. There was no way I could do this. I bit the side of my cheek, struggling to keep my composure. 

Cas caught onto my fear, scooting as far away from me as he could while making sure I wouldn’t freak out. Why did he move away? I was going to be fine. I think- But I was okay. Just as long as I keep a certain distance from him for a while. It takes me a long time to adjust to new things, and this might take me a while, but I couldn’t just do nothing. It was obvious to me that Cas was afraid of something, I just couldn’t figure out what just yet. 

“I’m fine, Cas, I promise.” I nervously smiled, hiding how terrified I was. Shifters with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Great. Seriously, what have they done? They think I can handle someone who already looks like he’s struggling to keep himself together just by meeting me? I didn’t really want to find out what would happen if he doesn’t contain his emotions. Was there a person partnered up with him before? I knew I wasn’t going to be getting any answers, but there was no harm in asking them. 

“O-Okay,” He whispered, getting in a more comfortable sitting position, “Are you sure though? I don’t mind giving you an hour or two to get used to… everything.” He looked away for a second, and I could tell something was on his mind. Along with the constant moving away every time I had tried to walk closer, or when he knew I was scared of him, I would think to say that he’s scared of himself. Or, at least hurting other people. It makes sense actually. I’ve heard stories that a lot of shifters realize that they can really hurt people and just try their hardest not to interact with people smaller than themselves. It’s like they collapse on themselves since they don’t want to hurt anyone. I guess Cas and I weren’t so different. 

“Okay, look, it’s obvious that you’re more afraid of yourself than I am of you,” Cas’s eyes widened, “How about we both try to help each other out? I’ll keep trying if you do.” I held out my hand without thinking. A compromise between the two of us. I know we both met like five minutes ago, but I’m pretty sharp for people my age with little experience. But, honestly, maybe this wasn’t so bad. I think all that Cas wanted was the relief that he won’t hurt people. Or something like that. 

“You’d go through with all that? I’m not exactly mentally stable.” I could tell that he was worried, but I just nodded my head, a genuine smile on my face that I hoped he could see. 

He eyed my hand for a while, and I still hadn’t realized what was wrong until he lightly pinched my hand between the tip of his pointer and thumb, barely even lifting it up and down for my own sake. Oh he has no idea how scared I was right now, but he didn’t have to know that. Just a little more pressure and he could just yank my arm right off-I shook that thought away. Don’t think about that right now. It would be okay. Just as long as I get an idea of what to do when he does eventually lose control or something. I had zero idea. I think the thought that stuck in the back of my mind was making me more worried than anything really. I’m just a stress toy for him. But I’ll just have to get over my fear. There was no way I would let this stop me from graduating. Not in a million years.

——————

Sorry for a slightly boring chapter! I did a LOT of world building for this one, and had to map out almost every single interaction through the course of the entire story plot. There also wasn’t much g/t but again, it’s just an introduction chapter. (I’m doing what I love and no one can stop me hehehe-)

But I hope you enjoyed reading! I promise the second chapter will have a much, much better g/t interaction. (Oh trust me it will >:3) I hope you all have a great day/night!

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

How is Discotek able to get a metal rider, Kamen rider, and a kikaider, have a neatly design original cover graphic with bonus material but shout factory gets crumps??

It's fair to acknowledge that a very very significant amount of why Shout has only been able to do 5 rider shows in almost as many years is that a lot of this relies on licensing fees. From what we've learned over the years, Toei charges obscenely high fees for Heisei Riders; essentially the same amount you'd expect from a singular franchise. And of course this varies from series to series; something like W or OOO will be more expensive than your Agitos or Kivas, or your Showa Riders. But naturally Shout wants to get the more popular ones that'll actually make fans happy (and not just Cina) so they've been having to play this really stupid game with Toei for a while. If you want to get the popular modern Kamen Rider shows you have to go through hell.

This all goes out the window when you're talking about shows from the 70s and 80s with a (tragically) small amount of relevance today. Discotek has said the reason they went for Juspion first is literally because it had the lowest licensing fee out of all the Metal Hero series and when that did well, they were able to go for even more (which still were not that expensive; as you can imagine Toei isn't asking much for Sharivan or Jiban in 2024). Obviously we can imagine Gavan and KR BLACK are much more expensive, but as those are your big heavy hitters to begin with; your Ws and Kuugas of the era; Discotek probably felt comfortable enough to pay higher fees for those. We are at the end of the day talking about a company that just released Berserk earlier this year.

For all we know Kikaider and V3 might be expensive but I feel confident in saying they cost significantly less to license out than any popular Heisei Rider and that Discotek felt good about their price when their general business is dealing in retro otaku stuff, compared to Shout being sullied with the fascinating task of trying to build a franchise out of modern Kamen Rider shows on a younger audience while still being expected to pay a fortune for them.

[rosella35]

Kaleb's Bad Day: Part I

*clears throat* It's been a while, G/T community!

I don't get as much time for writing anymore with my uni degree in its final years, but this is a one-shot I've been working on for an obnoxious amount of time now based on a prompt I got a while back: What if Kaleb, my borrower character, shrunk in class?

To set the scene since the last time I updated Borrowed Courage was in 2022 *sobs*, Kaleb and Brooke live in a world where the borrower race was discovered 10 years ago and unbeknownst to humankind, many borrowers use a drug called "Upsize" to temporarily grow to human size and blend into society. This one-shot is canon but probably won't be added to the main story for timing reasons. It's set roughly 2 months after Brooke first discovered Kaleb's secret identity as a borrower.

Part II will be up tomorrow - I hope you like!

Content warning: contains angst, swearing and nudity (not graphic).

****

“Alright. For the rest of today, I want you to work independently through the exercises in chapter two of your textbooks. I’ll be floating around if anyone has any burning questions.” Mr Bell instructed the class. From his seat at the back of the room, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration. On any other day, he would be more than happy to follow his teacher’s instructions; learning about human history was one of the things he’d enrolled in school for in the first place. From a young age, Kaleb had been fascinated with the way the giants that owned the world had came to be that way, while his kind— the borrowers— had spent their lives hidden away in the shadows. Today, though, he was only half paying attention. Kaleb ran his hands through his scruffy brown hair, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant pounding that seemed to reverberate all the way from his skull to his fingertips.  

Something was off. 

It wasn’t uncommon or him to be getting headaches from going consecutive days using Upsize, the drug that allowed him to attend human school at five feet nine instead of five inches tall. Even so, they hardly ever set in this early in the week, and were never an issue unless he was moving around too much. This one felt different. It had barely set in twenty minutes ago and was already driving him crazy. With a pained sigh, Kaleb tried to preoccupy himself with opening his textbook to the designated chapter. It felt weird to consider, since borrowers didn’t get sick nearly as often as humans did, but… maybe he was coming down with something.  

From the seat adjacent, Brooke Tucker glanced up from her own work to frown across at him. “Are you good?” She whispered, leaning forward with her hand on her chin. 

Kaleb immediately stiffened, surprised she’d even noticed his discomfort. Am I that obvious? “I don’t know.” He said uneasily. “My head is killing me.” 

The human girl’s brow creased in concern, an expression she rarely ever directed at him. If he weren’t so distracted by the pain, Kaleb probably would’ve been flattered. “Could be a migraine.” She suggested, before adding in a lower voice. “Do borrowers even get those?”

“Yes, we get migraines.” He whispered back, rolling his eyes. Since she’d discovered Kaleb’s true identity back in September, the human girl had made it her mission to find every opportunity to tease and mock him about being a borrower. Still, Kaleb couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about this particular headache felt familiar. No way. That’s impossible. He dismissed, turning back to his textbook. “It’s probably nothing.” He assured her.

That was when he felt it.

BADUMP. 

A sudden wave of pain reverberated through his body, making him sit bolt upright in his desk like he’d just stepped on a live wire. It was a sensation Kaleb knew all-too-well, because he’d experienced it every afternoon after school for the past four years. 

His Upsize was about to wear off. 

“Shit.” He hissed, feeling the colour drain from his face. His mind reeled, struggling to make sense of why this was even happening. It was like one of his worst nightmares come to life. He should’ve had more time. He always had more time. Had Rodney messed up his dose? 

Kaleb ground his teeth together, forcing himself to focus. There was no time to dwell on the ‘why’. He had to get out of sight, and fast. 

BADUMP.

The room spun as he was hit with another rapid full-body ache, and Kaleb almost collapsed out of his chair. He felt himself start to shiver uncontrollably, the primal fear of being seen overwhelming his senses. “Kaleb, what the hell’s going on with you?” Brooke’s voice echoed somewhere beside him. “You’re making a scene.” 

Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit. Kaleb didn’t have to look up to know that the whole class was staring at him, a tingling feeling that sent his borrower instincts to flee into overdrive. He glanced across at Brooke, gazing unblinking into her judgemental grey-green eyes like they were his lifeline. In that moment, he made a decision.

“Why’re you staring at me like that, it’s creeping me—”

“Come with me.” Kaleb blurted out. 

That was all the warning Brooke got before he’d clamped his hand around her wrist and launched out of his seat, dragging her along behind him. 

“Sorry Mr Bell, we’ll be right back!” He announced in a rush of adrenalin, practically stumbling out the classroom door. Brooke, who had been too bewildered to react to their sudden exit, finally came to her senses as they entered the empty hallway. She ripped her hand out of his grasp, ears reddening in second-hand embarrassment from what had just gone down.

“What the fuck was that about?” She hissed, though her expression shifted to concern when he leaned heavily against the wall several paces in front of her, clutching his head. For the first time, Brooke noticed the raw, unsuppressed fear in his eyes.  

“I can explai—” Kaleb started, but broke off with a startled yelp when he felt the shrinking process finally kick in. He could only catch a glimpse of Brooke’s startled expression before the ground rushed towards him and he was swallowed up by his human clothes that were suddenly hundreds of sizes too big. Within the span of a few seconds, he found himself back at his original five-inch-tall height and buried beneath the course folds of his t-shirt, chest heaving from the lingering adrenalin and body frozen in terror as the reality of his situation dawned. 

Brooke, having witnessed the whole thing, did a double take. “What in the—” One second Kaleb had been standing there in front of her, and the next… Her eyes fell to his unoccupied pile of clothes, and she swore, realising what had just happened. 

“Kaleb? Brooke? Is everything okay with you two?” She froze at the sound of Mr Bell’s voice from inside the classroom, his footsteps growing closer and closer.

Panicking, Brooke scrambled to scoop up the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes, quickly locating the squirming figure buried within, and shoved them behind herself. The second he felt her fingers close around him and lift him blindly into the air, Kaleb’s heart leapt into his throat. He shivered involuntarily, the sensation of powerful human hands around his entire frame serving as a stark reminder of how little control he had over their current situation. All he could do was make himself as small as possible in her grip and trust Brooke to handle things with the teacher. 

“Y-Yep!” The human girl said, turning around just as the Mr Bell poked his head out the classroom door. Her hands tightened protectively around Kaleb’s smaller form under the clothes, feeling his tiny heartbeat flutter like a bird’s against her fingers. She cleared her throat awkwardly in attempt to compose herself. “I mean… actually, Kaleb wasn’t feeling well. He went ahead to the nurses office, but would you mind if I go too? J-Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

The teacher gave her a strange look, and Brooke held her breath, waiting for him to notice the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes behind her back and effectively blow her cover story. After a moment though, Mr Bell’s expression softened to concern. “Oh, of course you can.” He said with a nod. “I hope he feels better soon. Don’t worry about missing the rest of the lesson. I’ll email the two of you supplementary work later today.”

She managed a strained smile. “Thank you.” 

The moment he disappeared back inside, Brooke took off down the hall, her mind stalling on what she was supposed to do next. There was no way she could actually take Kaleb to the nurses office without exposing him, and it would be too suspicious if she just up and left the building in the middle of class. She cursed. There was really only one place that would give the two of them some privacy, which made her uncomfortable even thinking about, but Brooke didn’t really have a choice. 

Resigned to her fate, she made beeline for the girl’s bathroom. 

Locking herself inside a cubicle, Brooke let out a relieved sigh. She sat down heavily on the closed seat of the toilet, turning her attention to the bundle of Kaleb’s human clothes in her lap and the tiny muffled voice she could suddenly hear through the fabric. “Can’t breathe—!”

Eyes widening, Brooke loosened her hold around the clothes. It seemed silly now, but in her haste to get to somewhere private, she’d almost forgotten that Kaleb had been with her the whole time, buried underneath the layers of denim and cotton.  She was about to reach in to try and pull him out, when she realised that somewhere amongst the folded material, Kaleb was not only borrower-sized but naked. Face heating up at the thought, Brooke sat back against the toilet and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Okay, you’re safe to come out. We’re alone.” 

Sure enough, it wasn’t long after she’d spoken that Brooke noticed a miniature head of scruffy brown hair poking out through the of one of the t-shirt sleeves as Kaleb revealed himself at last. He blinked rapidly in the harsh fluorescent lighting, scrambling to cover himself with his blanket-like clothes. Without his usual shirt and tan jacket combo, he seemed almost smaller than usual, his bare shoulders slim and pale and his breaths short and fast. Fragile was the first word that came to mind. Intuitively, Brooke knew that compared to humans, borrowers really were fragile and vulnerable, but those were never words she’d associated with Kaleb. Now though, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that his entire body trembled like a scared animal in her hands. 

That didn’t stop her from glaring daggers at him. “What the fuck, Kaleb!” She hissed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

Kaleb flinched instinctively, his hazel eyes shooting up to meet her now much larger grey ones. Brooke’s angry expression faltered. Shit. He looked terrified— even more so than the time she’d found him on the apartment roof all those weeks ago. She swallowed, turning away uncomfortably. That look in his eyes… It didn’t suit him at all. 

The two of them didn’t speak for several minutes, awkward silence permeating the cubicle. Kaleb took that time to try and compose himself, his full-body tremors slowly dissipating as he tried to calm his pounding heart. It wasn’t easy to do by any means, but he appreciated Brooke’s patience. Finally finding his voice, he tilted his head to meet her eyes. 

“S-Sorry.” He said, holding the material of his shirt around his nude frame with white knuckled hands. He licked his dry lips. “No one saw… did they?”

Brooke sighed, making a conscious effort to shift to a gentler tone of voice. Now probably wasn’t the time for their usual teasing banter. “No.” She reassured him. “Just me.” 

Kaleb visibly relaxed at that, minuscule shoulders slumping under the thick material of his shirt. “Thank god.” He breathed, almost too quiet for her to make out. So he hadn’t been seen by anyone else in the class. Just knowing that was enough to ease a significant portion of his built up anxiety. With a clearer head, Kaleb finally paused to take in his surroundings, and his jaw immediately dropped when he caught sight of a toilet roll as long as he was tall. “What the—” He exclaimed, looking up at her with an aghast expression. “Is this the girl’s bathroom—?!” 

Brooke held back a snort as his tiny face turned beet red with embarrassment. Much more like the Kaleb she knew. “You didn’t exactly give me much time to think of a better place to go.” She pointed out, sitting up straighter on the toilet seat. “And while we’re on that topic, what the hell happened to you? Isn’t your wonder drug supposed to last the whole day?” 

Kaleb flinched at that and peered down at his smaller form, pathetically dwarfed by the clothes that had fit him perfectly less than ten minutes ago. Already, without the disguise that was his human height, he was starting to feel like the fraud he was; just another borrower trying and failing to carry himself with the same level of confidence and liberty as a human. “I-I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Maybe my uncle messed up the dose.” He wrapped the the fabric of his shirt sleeve tighter around himself, feeling more exposed than ever. “This has never happened to me before.” 

“Clearly.” Brooke said. “If I hadn’t been there to cover for you, you’d’ve been screwed for sure.” 

She felt him shiver at that fact, almost making her regret her choice of words. “You’re right.” Kaleb looked up at her again, his expression earnest. “Thank you, Brooke. Really.” 

Brooke blinked. That was unexpected. She shifted in her seat and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blush. With their current size difference, that was unlikely. “I-It’s fine.” She said. “So, uh… what now, then? Do you have any more Upsize you can take?” 

Kaleb pursed his lips. “I don’t keep any spare pills at school.” He admitted quietly, shuddering again despite the course fabric around him. “With Upsize, you need to wait at least an hour after shrinking before you can take another dose. It’s supposed to give the medicine a chance to leave your system, kind of like a cool-down period.”

“Right, of course that’s a thing.” Brooke sighed. She tried racking her brain for an alternative solution. “Well then, can someone come get you? Surely Evie would. I bet she’s bored out of her mind back at the apartment without having me to spy on.” 

Instead of laughing at her poor attempt at a joke, Kaleb looked horrified. “I can’t just leave early!” He exclaimed. “I’ll miss maths next period. Mrs Crowley said she’d be giving out final exam tips today!” 

Brooke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re kidding.” She started, holding back a disbelieving laugh. Looking closer at his tiny, pleading features though, her smile faded. “You’re not kidding.” She deadpanned, groaning. “Come on, Kaleb. How the fuck are you supposed to come to class like this? You don’t even have any clothes!”

Kaleb’s cheeks heated up and he pulled the shirt sleeve a little tighter around himself as he was reminded of his current nudity. “I can get clothes.” He insisted, his usual confident demeanour returning in full force. “I have a spare set in my locker. Climbing gear, too.” 

Brooke would have face palmed herself if her hands weren’t still cupped around his tiny frame. She regarded him quizzically. “Well that’s great, but isn’t your whole thing supposed to be not getting seen by the rest of the class?” 

Kaleb shook his head. “I don’t have to actually come to class. You could just, y’know, let me off into the air vent and I can listen in from there.” He suggested, giving her a clumsy shrug from amongst the bundle of clothes. 

Brooke just stared down at him, completely lost for words. “You’re crazy.” She muttered. “You’re actually fucking crazy. You literally almost shrunk in front of our whole class, and now you want me to just let you go off into the walls so you can catch some stupid exam tips?” 

“Brooke.” 

She didn’t hear him, her voice rising in annoyance as she continued. “And then what? Am I supposed to just stay back and look for you after class, like that’s totally not suspicious at all?!”

“Brooke.” 

“Ugh!” She wanted so badly to bang her head into the cubicle door. “Why do I even get myself into these situations? I swear, ever since I found out about you and your stupid little secret, my life’s been a fucking disaster—!”

“BROOKE!”

She broke off with a start at his exclamation, caught off guard by how loud he’d managed to sound despite his obvious disadvantage in size. Brooke bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose. She almost jumped when she felt a slight pressure on her thumb. Kaleb had reached out to touch it with his much smaller hand, stroking the digit in attempt to reassure her. “You good?” He asked. 

“Y-Yeah.” Brooke replied weakly, her mouth dry. She didn’t want to say anything but the feeling of his tiny hand on her finger felt so… weird. Kaleb almost never initiated physical contact with her when he was borrower-sized.  

He nodded, meeting her eyes again. “I’m sorry.” He said with obvious embarrassment. “I got a bit ahead of myself there. I guess I just thought you’d want me out of your hair so you could get back to class. If you can help me to my locker, I’ll call Evie to come pick me up, and I’ll just email Mrs Crowley about the exam later.” 

Brooke sighed at his words, a much simpler solution coming to mind that she was probably crazy for even suggesting. “Or you could just come with me.” She pointed out, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement when he blinked up at her. “What? Did you forget we have the same maths class?” 

“Come… with you?” Kaleb repeated, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “As in, on your person? Where would I even go—?” His broke off, eyes trailing upwards to the chest pocket of her oversized denim jacket at the same time hers did. His face lost several shades of colour, and he shook his head firmly, despite knowing deep down that he might not have any say in the matter. “No way. No way. I’m not gonna sit in your pocket all day like some house pet, Brooke! That’s just… that’s just embarrassing!” 

The human girl smirked down at him. “Well, would it be any more embarrassing than being tiny and naked in the girl’s bathroom?” Her hand inched up to ruffle his hair teasingly. “I mean, unless you’re secretly a pervert?” 

Kaleb swiped at her already retreating digit. “I’m not a pervert!” He snapped, pointing his own diminutive finger up at her accusingly. “You brought me here, not the other way around!”  

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She giggled. “You’re always so easy to work up like this.” 

Kaleb bristled. “Yeah, well can you blame me? When I’m like this, there’s five extra feet of you to piss me off!”

“Fair point.” Brooke smirked. “So, what’s it gonna be then?” Her hands edged closer around him, as she impatiently tapped her foot against the tiles. “I can’t just keep sitting on the toilet for the rest of the day.”

Kaleb sighed, turning his gaze downwards in defeat. He had to admit she was right about that. Stalling was only prolonging what they both knew had to come next. “Fine. I’ll come to class with you.” He hesitated. “Just… can we please get my clothes first?” 

Brooke looked at him, shock evident on her face. Did he really believe that she wouldn’t let him get changed? It was humbling to think that with Kaleb like this, without his bag or climbing gear, he was essentially putting his life and his autonomy in her hands. Just knowing that made Brooke soften her voice ever so slightly. “Um, yeah, of course. There’s no way you’re coming with me in the nude. That’s fucked up.” 

Kaleb breathed a sigh of relief at her reassurance, offering a grateful smile. “Okay… Well, in the meantime, could you grab me a piece of toilet paper? To cover up, I mean.” 

Brooke blinked, glancing across at the roll beside her. Hesitantly, she tore off a small strip of toilet paper between her thumb and index finger and handed it down to him. Kaleb took it, ducking under his sleeve for a moment to tie it around his waist like a towel. He looked down at his handiwork, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll do.” He muttered to himself, letting the oversized shirt sleeve fall away so that he was standing at his full five-inch height in her cupped hands.  

Despite herself, Brooke almost did a double take when she saw his bare chest for the first time. There was no denying it; Kaleb was ripped. The thought had never occurred to her, but considering his active lifestyle, she really shouldn’t have been as caught off guard as she was. A little more of a tan, and he could’ve belonged in a body building magazine. She tore her eyes away before he caught her staring, but that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating up. 

She coughed. “Right. Ready to go then?”

“That depends.” Kaleb smirked knowingly. There was really no way he could have missed a stare that size. He took a bold step forward in her cupped hands and flexed his muscles tauntingly. “Did you want a closer look?” 

“W-What?”

“Who’s the pervert now, huh?” He teased, throwing the label right back at her.

“Shut up!” In that embarrassment-riddled moment, Brooke reacted in the only way she could think of. She poked Kaleb harshly in the chest. Like always, he staggered backwards with a yelp at the impact, but this time neither of them had taken proper stock of their surroundings. As if in slow-motion, Kaleb tripped over the folded clothing behind him, simultaneously jostling free the poorly secured knot holding up his toilet paper toga. All hope of modesty gone, he fell flat on his back with his legs gracelessly splayed… within full view of the human girl holding him. 

The two of them stared at each other in silent shock for several seconds, and Brooke wished she could bleach her eyeballs. Instead, she opted for the next best course of action.

���AHHHH!”

[hidiustd]

28.05.2024 — finals season

the day feels a little surreal (maybe because i didn't get much sleep, i need to fix my sleeping schedule, but with the end of the semester it seems just impossible), but i'm really proud of myself today!!

got a 97/100 in stp marketing and decided to try and talk to the professor to see if i could do something extra to get a 100/100. she was like ok we'll figure something out and then just texted me few minutes after that i didn't have to do anything and that she would add 3 points just for being active in class. i've never been so happy that i didn't skip a class in my life haha. she literally gifted me 3 points.

the upshot of the situation is that we really should try and speak up for ourselves if we feel like we have the resources to do so (or maybe write an email or smth). worst case scenario is they say no, and best case scenario well.... we might get a nice surprise.

got a 97/100 in design and graphics and i'm just ecstatic. i thought it would be a c. not a big deal because it doesn't affect anything, but i'm just glad it turned out better than i expected. i didn't go to a negotiation because i don't have the energy for extra assignments in that subject (wanna say i hope to never repeat it again in my life but never say never)

participated in an event about leadership and as i understand i won some small prize for actively participating in the discussion (just so you know, i never win anything and it was as unexpected and weird as possible).

handed in the last practical assignment on marketing services, so only the final exam is left, the same story with business planning.

tomorrow i have to start and finish my term project on business planning and i think i'll be doing it all night (hopefully i won't go crazy cuz i had like 3 months???? for it and still doing it the day before the deadline lol). the good thing is that i don't have to do all the work by myself and my two uni besties are in a team with me and we'll do everything together (and we'll rant about it together as well). i really like teamwork, guess i'm just very lucky with my classmates, they're amazing <3

🎵: run like a river — jamica (and yep i can't draw but i love it and i tried to draw my new plants but failed miserably)

[gabessquishytum]

So we’ve seen a lot of Mafia AU stuff, but may I add my Mob Collections Department Hob to the mix?

Morpheus’ heart flutters a little in his chest when he opens the door one day to a stranger, a gentle professor-looking guy with a messenger bag slung across his chest. But then the man slips his hand into the bag and pulls out a crowbar. His deep chocolate eyes go hard as he steps over the threshold, and Morpheus instinctively retreats.

He knows exactly who this must be. This is the guy who breaks your fucking kneecaps or legs or fingers or whatever when you can’t pay back what you’ve borrowed.

Morpheus knew he shouldn’t’ve gone to a Mob loan shark to pay for Art School, but his family wouldn’t help him get a “useless” degree, wouldn’t cosign the loans, and he won’t be 24 till the end of this year, so he can’t even be considered independent! What the fuck else was he supposed to do?!

The stupid thing is, his heart is still fluttering.

Actually, it’s fluttering harder. There's a distinct possibility that Morpheus’ circulatory system is deeply confused and currently mistaking terror for arousal.

“I… I’m an artist,” Morpheus stammers. Maybe he can live without functional kneecaps, but if this guy smashes his fingers, he’ll be destroyed.

Hob nods, casually resting the crowbar against the back of his own neck as he looks around. He’s in no rush. His target is a skinny pale thing that Hob is pretty sure he could break across his knee if he had to. He hopes he doesn’t have to. Sometimes just walking in the front door is enough to get people scrambling for the cash they “forgot” to pay. Though… this poor guy might not be so lucky. The man Hob’s been sent after today — what was his fancy name? Morpheus?  — lives in a nearly empty studio apartment, entirely furnished with vivid canvases and one fold-out mattress on the floor. Hob reaches back to lock the door while he takes in the expansive scenes of… some fantasy world? It’s like nothing he’s ever seen. A dreamy mix of magical creatures, starry galaxies, keen eyed ravens, and glittering abstractions. 

Well, maybe if he’d gone into graphic design — made some boring logos or something — he’d’ve been able to pay his bills.

Morpheus is madly tallying his resources in his brain.

He’s got about 18$ coming in from Patreon. If he does a sale on prints, he might be able to move a few extra, but the profit would be less… He’s already skipped anything fresh at the grocery store this week, subsisting on spaghetti, diced tomatoes, and baked beans — the only things the calories-per-dollar calculation would allow. 

No matter how he does the math, it comes up short. 

When the man takes a silent step toward him, Morpheus panics. His mind goes utterly blank. His heart is still doing it’s fucking stupid thing. 

He kisses the man.

Hob’s used to this. Plenty of people try to pay their debts with their carnal talents. He’s not usually interested. The problem is this: Morpheus is hot. The kiss is deep and warm and… feels oddly real? Like genuinely passionate? Morpheus’ long fingers send tantalizing chills through Hob’s skin. Now, the broke artist is sliding to his knees, and when he looks up, his pupils are so thick with arousal that his blue eyes are almost black.

Sigh. 

Fine. He can suck Hob’s cock this one time, and Hob will take care of this payment out of his own pocket. He gets paid well and is good at his job — people like him, he's not your typical goon, he's pleasant until he needs to be otherwise, and gives them every chance to search the couch cushions, so to speak. So the cash isn’t much to him. But in this business, paying other people’s debts is a bad habit to get into. Anyone would go broke doing that. 

But Morpheus’s lips feel so good, and Morpheus is, like, into it. Like laving Hob’s balls and working his fingers into his cleft and over his asshole. He opens his throat so Hob can really ram himself down there. And by the time Hob comes (gritting his teeth & trying/failing to tell himself it’s not that good), he actually feels kinda bad that he’s gotten such a good deal on a quality blow job.

Two weeks later, Hob is resolved to be the consummate professional — strictly cracking bones or collecting cash, whichever’s appropriate, but definitely not getting off on the clock.

But Morpheus opens the door without hesitation, and he’s wearing black joggers, slung low on his jutting hips, and… a lacy body suit that plunges almost to his naval, is so high cut it frames said hips, and is sheer enough in the right places that his pale rose nipples poke through deliciously.

SIGH.

Fucking fine. 

Hob can bend Morpheus over the counter and fuck him hard this one time. But he makes sure to get in a few good hard spanks on that creamy ass. Hob’s not completely derelict in his duties, and this is an enforcement job.

(This is not even remotely the deterrent he hopes it is. For the next two weeks, every time Morpheus squirms as he sits on his bare hard floor as he paints, he will think of Hob’s sharp hands. Even when the pain fades, he will recall it acutely in his imagination as he strokes himself.)

And Hob pays Morpheus’s second installment.

It might surprise you to learn that the interest on a Mob loan shark’s loan is… not exactly competitive. By the third time Hob visits, the amount owed has barely gone down, thanks to sky-high rates that would put the payday lenders to shame. The third payment would be massive for anyone, but for a starving artist it’s catastrophic. 

But Morpheus is creative and determined to give Hob the full value. 

This time, Hob spends the entire night on Morpheus’s folding mattress on the floor discovering new ways to come undone in the artist’s clever hands and pulling Morpheus apart in turn. (Figuratively.) Morpheus begs to take his punishment from the sharp sting of Hob’s hands again, and Hob turns his backside beet red as every moan and cry from Morpheus’ lips goes right to his dick until he’s jerking himself off and coming on Morpheus’s back, marking him like he’s Hob’s own. Like neither of them belong to some cranky old Mob boss, but it’s just them, signing their names into each other’s skin.

By morning, they’re lying in each other’s arms and just talking. 

Morpheus tells Hob about going to Art School even after his parents tried to force him into something useful. He confesses the difficulties of making a living as an artist and on the internet especially. It’s not as easy as people think. He would do something else, but the pictures in his head just need to come out. Exhausted and trembling, he speaks of the way they grow in his unconscious, expanding to take up everything else, bringing chaos and cracks in his foundations if he doesn’t give them form and allow them an orderly outlet on the canvas.

Hob holds Morpheus tight to his chest as if that could ease the pain there, and he opens up, too. Hob didn’t used to be this. He was a History professor! He has no right forcing other people to make money! But then his wife had gotten ill. And this doctor — an arrogant prick who’d never taken anyone’s concerns seriously, who had years of secret complaints against him but was too much of a “star” to get fired — botched the surgery. And Eleanor and their unborn babe had died on the table. Hob had gotten a — frankly insulting — settlement from the hospital. Then he’d hunted down the doctor (who’d had connections in some shadowy parts of town — he hadn’t become a star by being good at medicine), and taken his revenge. The underworld had taken notice. 

And this paid a lot better than adjunct work.

Plus, unlike at the university, Hob’s skills are appreciated. Most humans of the twenty-first century are a lot easier to find and pick apart than the evidence on post-plague upheavals in labor relations in the fourteenth century, and Hob spent seven years doing that for his PhD. He’s persistent and meticulous. Not sloppy like some enforcers. Hob knows how to cause damage that hurts like hell but heals well. He’s done his research. (Something he’s finally getting paid for after over a decade in academia!)

Hob doesn’t even like debt collecting! It’s not his calling. When he’d been slogging through History essays, he’d fantasized about opening a pub. Sometimes he still does — his skills could come in useful breaking up bar fights, throwing out the jerks, keeping things peaceful. 

As the sun comes up, he kisses Morpheus softly on his lips. 

He pays the massive third installment.

On the fourth visit, Hob slips his hand into the messenger bag again and Morpheus’ heart thuds in something like fear. But instead of the crowbar, he pulls out a thick, wooden paddle. When his eyes rise to meet Morpheus’, there’s only a little of that old hardness left but mostly a question. Morpheus moans at the sight, the blood already shooting to his cock.

He really should borrow money from the Mob more often. 

He lets Hob bend him over the counter and ply the paddle all over his ass till he’s crying and begging for release. And then Hob is fucking him and biting into the meat of his shoulder and stroking him hard and fast as he thrusts against Morpheus’ bruised ass. They wind up tangled in the sheets long past morning. (The fourth payment is even bigger than the third.)

At some point, as Morpheus is boiling spaghetti for two, Hob decides fuck this job. 

Of course, it’s the Mob, so he can’t just put in his two week’s notice & shit on the boss’s desk like decent people do. So later, Hob — whose a genuinely nice guy when he isn’t cracking your skeleton & has built up his own little following within the business — pulls a Red Wedding and eliminates the entire current leadership. Fuck those guys. They were assholes anyway. People are happier now. (Anyone who wouldn’t be happy was invited to the wedding.)

Hob doesn’t actually want to take on the responsibility of a large crime syndicate, so he hands the reins over to a trusted buddy. Then he and Morpheus get the fuck outta there and start new lives in the big city where Morpheus can do real art shows and Hob can run his pub and feed Morpheus only the freshest food and lots of it, and every beating is strictly desired and thoroughly appreciated and never involves a crowbar.

BESTIE THIS IS SO GOOD!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW GOOD THIS IS. This is the most amazing mini fic.

Ngl I wish Hob would come around here with his "crowbar"

Honestly I love this concept of Mob Hob so much. I feel like it works so well with his canon storyline. It's not hard to imagine him reluctantly (but very effectively) smashing in kneecaps. And yeah he feels bad about it, but hey. Hob has had his own struggles and he wants to keep a roof over his head.

But he's not immune to a pretty little Dream, huh? He's not a nice guy, he just wants to get his dick wet. He's not in love or anything. I mean, he's not gonna shake up his entire life and risk everything by going up against the gang he's supposed to be working for.

.......right? 👀❤

[nepenthean-sleep]

Historical Fashion in The Priory of the Orange Tree

I'm not a historian, but I've spent a significant amount of time over the past decade researching historical fashions from across the world. Naturally, this colored my reading of The Priory of the Orange Tree when I first read it in 2019. I started rereading Priory this month in anticipation for the release of the sequel, and I thought it would be fun to share my ideas for the clothing styles of the various countries in the book, based on real-world historical fashion. I also wanted to use this as a moment to compare some of the fashions of Priory with those in the forthcoming A Day of Fallen Night. These are by no means definitive; they're just my personal headcanons for the book, but I thought some fans and artists would appreciate this as a reference.

To begin, Inys and Queen Sabran's court reminded me heavily of Elizabethan England, so while reading Priory, I mostly thought of the book taking place in an analogue to Earth of the mid-to-late 1500s. This colors my perception of the various clothing styles, so you will notice that most of the countries will have clothing from the same century or thereabout. This extends to Fallen Night, which takes place 500 years earlier, but only for the countries that I was able to find enough reference information on. (Trying to find fashion references for eleventh and twelfth century Europe and Africa on the internet is very difficult!) I've made (terrible; I am not a graphic designer) collages to lower the photo count in this post, but please keep in mind that this post is still image-heavy.

SEIIKI

Seiiki is based off of Edo-era Japan. In keeping with the 1500s theme, I have imagined fashions similar to those of the very early Edo period and the late Azuchi-Momoyama period. With how they are described in the text, I believe the wealthy and fashionable in Ginura would likely dress more like the fashions from the early 1700s with elaborate nihongami and extensive sea-themed accessories.

For A Day of Fallen Night, this would land us squarely in the Heian era, my personal favorite of the Japanese historical eras in terms of fashion. Now I can only imagine Princess Dumai with extremely long hair lmao.

SEPUL

Sepul is based off of Korea. We don't know much about Sepul, but for Korea, the 1500s would have been towards the beginning of the Joseon dynasty. 16th century hanbok looked more similar to the hanbok of Goryeo, as opposed to the more "classical" 18th century style of Joseon hanbok that is used today in film and re-enactments.

For Fallen Night, that puts Sepul in the middle of the Goryeo dynasty, when it followed Song dynasty fashion. However, Sepul is a queendom, and during the Silla period, Korea had three regnant queens. Because of this, I imagine that the queens of Sepul would likely dress more similar to the royalty of Silla, with their elaborate crowns and gold chains.

EMPIRE OF THE TWELVE LAKES

The Lacustrine are based off of China, and the 1500s lands us in the later half of my favorite Chinese dynasty: the Ming. We don't get to see much of the Empire, but what we do see is very lavish and grand, much like Ming dynasty hanfu itself.

500 years back lands us in the Song dynasty. One of the interesting trends of the Song dynasty was pearl makeup, something that would likely be popular in the Twelve Lakes due to the continent's general aquatic theme.

INYS

Inys is based off of England, and while reading I imagined something similar to the fashions of the 1560s and 1570s during Queen Elizabeth I's reign. I'd also imagine that Inys would be "behind" in terms of fashion compared to Mentendon, due to how Inysh society and fashion is described as more conservative.

MENTENDON

Mentendon is based off of the Netherlands, and I particularly imagined it similar to the Dutch Republic, especially in regards to the country's relationship with Seiiki. The Dutch began trading with Japan in the early 1600s, so much of my headcanon for Mentendon is based off of the Baroque era, particularly the 1630s and 1640s. Mentendon seems to be the most liberal nation of the West, so I'd imagine their fashions to be more forward-facing while still retaining a lot of the similarities to the Elizabethan era, such as the usage of lace ruffs, doublets, and kirtles. Aubrecht and Truyde are described as having long, loose, curling hair, which fits perfectly with the popular hairstyles of these decades.

YSCALIN

Spain was the inspiration for Yscalin, and I imagined something similar to the 1540s and 1550s, particularly modeled after renaissance Italy as opposed to the Tudor stylings of the English and French.

LASIA

Lasia is based off of the Kingdom of Kongo, a state that existed in present day Angola, Republic of Congo, and Democratic Republic of the Congo from 1390 until 1857, when it was colonized by Portugal and made a vassal state of the Portuguese Empire. As such, it is difficult to find references for Kongolese fashion without the influence of Portuguese-style clothing. As far as I am aware, the references below are from the 1500s and 1600s and represent Kongolese clothing without European influence.

THE ERSYR

The Ersyr is based off of Iran. We don't get to see much of the Ersyr in Priory, but Chassar would likely wear Ersyri fashions even when away from home. For Iran, the 1500s puts us at the beginning of the Safavid Empire. The reference images below are from the 1570s to the 1650s.

For Fallen Night, the eleventh century would be the Abbasid Caliphate. Below are images of artwork from that era to give a general sense of the styles during that period.

If anyone has any additional information or corrections about the fashions from these time periods in this countries that they would like me to add to this post, feel free to send me an ask or a DM. Thanks for reading! Looking forward to reading A Day of Fallen Night later this week. :)

[notfinancialadvice]

WordPress Shifts in industry news I am not a part of but enjoy gossiping about

I used to do a a lot of work using WordPress as a system. It's easy, cheap to build and maintain with, etc.

I do not anymore. This has nothing to do with WordPress. It was exclusively a "a few years ago I received the opportunity to bow out of the industry as a graphic designer in order to pursue a cocktail of art, fantasy, economy, and business"

I used to be a customer of Advanced Custom Fields. I am no longer, for the same reason as above, I am no longer a web developer. Their service was good to me and I enjoyed it tremendously while I had it.

I have therefore no stake in this game and thus no public opinion.

And yet I enjoy the drama of it all so here we are.

WordPress is forking.

Or maybe it isn't a fork.

The core, mesmerizing, (and I do not say this lightly) potentially civilization changing beauty of open source software is the ability to meet different, often diametrically opposing, priorities.

"Civilization-changing is kinda heavy language?"

via

No :)

A significant portion of the internet as we know it today is powered by WordPress. It has and will continue to shape the entire scope and scale of internet development for longer than anyone reading this will be alive -- for good and for ill.

WordPress was primarily a blogging system that could build websites as well. With the introduction of externally-based Advanced Custom Fields, it became a powerhouse web builder as well.

The short version: You could easily say "put this image / text / whatever here in the template."

It was a game changer to many smaller scale developers (hi) with a tiny staff. It allowed us (me + team) to grow much more powerful very quickly and very affordably.

Digging into the news further, there is / was chatter about pulling in the core functionality of ACF into WP's main system.

It brings an interesting point to the open source space.

And goes to my original points above.

If you make something open, how much control do you have over it? If you profit from it, how long can this last before it gets pulled into the core?

That is a risk as a developer -- you could potentially lose your business because it gets folded into the larger entity, but on the other hand, until that point, your reward was immediate accessibility to a market / system a million times larger than you, that you had previously no hand in building.

It is a tragedy of the commons.

I had long forgotten this phrase.

I'm familiar with the concept -- a public finite resource is at risk of overuse from all because it is available to all -- it largely joins with the core issue of economics itself -- how do you find balance with finite resources and infinite desires.

It is the nature of art on the internet.

Artists want to make art and it to be seen, they put it online. Audiences do not by nature owe them anything, the art is available to view for free, but without audience support, the art will stop or degrade in posting frequency.

More directly, to the WordPress sphere, what is the responsibility to the core system (thus other users)? What is the responsibility of the users to the core system?

Objectively speaking, building and maintaining a system like WordPress requires a lot of resources.

The open source nature allows for competing priorities to be served provided enough resources, because you can always say "I don't want to follow your path of ABC, I want to do BCD" and then do that.

The open source nature also allows you to say "I made a widget, it costs $100/year"

But the core can say "Hm. That would make our system stronger. Yoink. Now it's ours and is free."

Then you have a market race to push to build the better whatever.

I...

...do not have answers.

To any of this.

I am left realizing.

It feels like macroeconomics and personal economics grinding against each other in a way that is traditionally seen across countries (if not the world) and decades (if not centuries) -- but in this instance, it's a much smaller scale (kinda? WP powers a lot of the internet and influences a significant portion of what it doesn't power).

And weeks and months.

Instead of decades and centuries.

This is a fun piece of bone to chew on.

I freely admit it is fun exclusively because I am not involved. If I were, it would be fucking nerve wracking.

[yandere-to-express]

Goth and the thembo

Chapter 2


cw for obsessive behaviour and stalking, but, well, you guys knew that was coming, right? maybe the cw should just say "peter",,
(there's also some misgendering, but i promise it's very brief and non-hostile/unintentional!)

Dog barking. Microwave beeping. Smell of the instant meal they just pulled out. Big stretch...  

Breathe.  

“Be quiet, Blossom,” they sighed half-heartedly, already drained only 10 minutes after getting home. The little chihuahua sneezed confrontationally, staring out into the hallway, alert. It was probably the neighbour’s kids getting home from whatever sports club they usually attended. That, or their brothers were coming home after visiting whatever new friends they’d made at their own schools.  

They decided they were too tired to care.  

Legs weaving through the suddenly interested cats and dog now they were holding a plate of food with careful practise, Y/n carried it upstairs to their unfinished room, the blank walls staring at them almost accusingly with boxes of things that still had yet to be unpacked as they clicked the light-switch on.  

Speaking of unpacking...  

Y/n sighed as they sunk into their mattress, spoon in hand as they half-heartedly ate the curry on their plate, the events of the day almost dulling their usual favourite flavour down considerably, cheap chicken tikka masala not covering their taste buds in a comforting embrace the way it used to. Maybe it’s just the way it was made over here.  

Anyway.  

Yeah, they made a new friend in the least likely place, but that was nerve-wracking enough. They thought...They thought that because they got detention something terrible would happen. And when it didn’t...They didn’t know, the impending sense of doom still hadn’t left entirely, so it was exhausting enough just processing it from the comfort of their home. It was a miracle they hadn’t devolved into tears at school, especially with how loud it was in the cafeteria today.  

They couldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t , this was a new start. They weren’t going to blow it like they did back in Year 7.  

...No, they weren’t thinking about that right now. They’d unpack that memory when they had the mental capacity to do so.  

...What were they thinking about again? Oh, right, school today.  

So yeah, double-period History was boring until Peter showed up, French 2 was a wash (seriously, they were thankful they took it as a GCSE before they left England, they were further ahead than they thought they’d ever be), Graphic Design just went over the same old stuff they already learned back home, and Algebra 2 was even easier like, c’mon! Algebra wasn’t supposed to be easy! At least move them up a few classes if it was like that! They were so worried about the past two years of GCSEs (as well as the three months of Sixth Form that they promptly – and gladly – abandoned when the family moved overseas around Christmas) being earned would be useless now they were here, but it just meant they were too far ahead! And they weren’t allowed to join the Seniors so late into the year either! Back in England they’d been so worried about having enough intelligence, but now they apparently had too much of the stuff, and it was irritating! They’d rather keep being a “gifted” student back in Years 1 to 6, thank you very much. At least AP Physics was more of a challenge, but, well, it was AP Physics . It didn’t get much harder than that, in their opinion.  

Why was all this a problem? Because without work that would take more than 25 minutes to complete on average, Y/n was terrible at focusing. Worksheet finished? You’d think that they would ask for more, right? Wrong , they just stared out the window absently, maybe doodling in a book that they brought for that purpose if they remembered, trying their best to keep their cool when the class got rowdy and the teacher had to shout over the noise to call the class to attention again. It was worse than back home, honestly. The classes were bigger, for one thing, so that immediately meant more noise.  

Man, maybe they should have just gone straight to college. Oh well, too late now.  

They licked their spoon clean as they finished their meal, just opting to leave the cutlery and plate on one of the piles of boxes to take down in the morning, closing their curtains (their parents insisted that they at least hang those up) as they shrugged off their zip-up hoodie, tiredly undressing ungracefully and throwing on some pyjamas. After leaving the room for a few minutes to brush their teeth (hey, they were an idiot who ate unhealthily and kept dirty dishes in their room, but oral hygiene was still one of their top priorities! ...thanks for scaring that into them, Mum), they reached into a small box by their bed, pulling out an old pink DS, checking the cartridge and settling on the game inside, ignoring Blossom’s barking as they heard their brothers return.  

Pokémon Platinum would help them out for now...  

Y/n woke up with a start, eyes snapping open as they heard movement outside. They wiped their bleary eyes as they looked around. They’d fallen asleep with their DS, it seemed, the melody of Jubilife City at night out of place as their anxiety rocketed. Was this the beginning of a robbery?! Were they being robbed?! They scrambled to pick up their DS, tapping the Pokétch a few times to get a sense of how late it was and-  

Oh. 11pm. That was when their dad got home from work, which was confirmed by the door creaking open downstairs, his mumbles of greeting to what Y/n assumed was their Mum or a brother muffled by the floorboards beneath them.  

Man, were they dumb, huh? They let out a shaky chuckle at their own stupidity, shutting their DS and putting it on the makeshift nightstand (you know, just a stack of boxes, like what anyone else has in their bedroom) next to their bed. They lay back down, screwing their eyes shut in an attempt to sleep.  

Surprisingly, it actually worked!  

...Unsurprisingly, they missed the way the moonlight cast a shadow on the figure sitting in the tree just outside their window...  

Ok, that was way too close for comfort.  

That old dude who went inside almost saw him, apparently there was a family dog that hated people walking by, and poor Y/n looked terrified! They looked as though they were about to die (no, not them, they’d never die, he’d make sure of it)! But, fuck, if the streetlight was just a few inches closer to the house...  

Peter shivered as he looked back into his darling’s darkened room with his huge, almost luminous, cerulean eyes, safe in the knowledge that not many other people would be out at this time, and none of them would see them from the sidewalk. He waited for what felt like an eternity, watching as the rest of the lights shut off before making his next move.  

His mother and sister picked on him for looking scrawny, but he hardly felt it as he lifted himself up on the branch above and hoisted himself onto the balcony and into the doors that they must have left open by mistake (honestly, it was February! Never mind the dangers of the world outside, what about the cold?! Oh, he’d have to take care of them, help them stay safe and healthy)…  

Unless they were expecting him...?  

He felt a shiver race through him, caused by the excitement and the chill (it was 23 degrees out there, ok?!) as he tip-toed into the room cautiously, praying to whatever deity out there that he didn’t step on some old, creaky floorboard. Thankfully, his darling’s room didn’t seem to have any (good, they deserved the best room in the world, he couldn’t bear to let someone as adorable as them to live uncomfortably, and they were so small! He was actually a little worried some of the piles of boxes would topple over and crush them!), and he was right by their side in a flash.  

He stood, watching over Raine with a little uncertainty of what to do now, looking at the rise and fall of their chest. They were wearing some pyjamas with some yellow fantasy animal thing on it (Pikachu, right? So adorable ...), and they gave a little snort as they slept, a little bit of drool escaping their mouth.  

If Y/n knew they looked like that while they slept? They would’ve been mortified.  

But, to Peter?  

They looked like an angel sent from the heavens. His darling angel. Fuck, how could anyone look so adorable and beautiful?  

...Well, the cold was no longer an issue for him, it seemed.  

Peter knelt down, placing his chin onto the mattress as he continued watching them breathe. Watching as their face scrunched up a few times, muttering nonsensical things out loud as they dreamed (he had no idea what a cookie cat was, but fuck, they were just so cute!) . He stayed there for hours, ignoring the plea for rest from his eyes as they drooped more and more. After the first half-hour, he’d gotten bolder and moved his face closer to theirs, able to smell their wavy brown hair (they must have used coconut scented shampoo before school, he realised, but God , it was addicting, he’d have to get some of his own just to be reminded of the scent of them ) and gently wipe away the line of drool leaking from their barely parted lips.  

...Deep within him he knew it was gross, but he licked the liquid away in a flash and, stars above , that was even better than their smell!  

He whispered praise to them as the night dragged on, petting their hair and caressing their cheek tenderly. He even got a little absent, sleepy nuzzle on the hand back (he was never washing that hand again)! His darling kept mumbling stuff about ice cream from outer space, and choosing something called a Bidoof (whatever it was, they giggled in their sleep about it being God, and, in case you hadn’t guessed yet, he did another mental bluescreen at how adorable they were being) to fight something called an Arceus?  

But then, they said something that made his heart (and, ok, maybe his pants) swell and his face turn bright red.  

“Mmph, Peter...Bite me...Sharp teeth...”  

Oh.  

Oh boy.  

The goth kind of just...sat there, staring at Y/n in bewilderment.  

Yesyesyesyesyes darling, he could do that!  

He cursed under his breath, averting his gaze out of bashfulness (somehow, he had some shame still left inside!), and pausing as he noticed the sky outside was brightening.  

Fuck , he’d been there all night!  

Peter hesitantly got up, looking back at Y/n as he made his way back to the balcony. The sun was only just peeking up behind the horizon, but it was enough for some golden rays to hit his darling’s body.  

Yeah. He was right. They had to be an angel, they looked so fucking beautiful and peaceful like that.  

He wouldn’t mind waking up next to them like that in the bed, some day.  

He shook his head, brushing his ebony hair out of his face, gazing over Y/n face and body one last time, before hopping out the balcony and back into the tree, scaling down it carefully and landing a little clumsily onto the wet grass. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hesitantly walking away, back towards where the school and his own house was.  

He was going to be so exhausted today.  

...It was totally worth it, though.  

“Someone’s chipper today,” Lucy noted as Y/n skipped into the classroom, sitting next to her with a smile. “You’re even in on time! Did Detention really scare you so much that you didn’t wanna be late again?” 
“Good morning to you too,” they frowned teasingly, pulling out a little sketchbook and their pencil case. “Nope, I just...I dunno, I didn’t sleep in for once. I actually slept great for the first time in, what? Ever?” 
“You look it, your eye-bags are basically gone!” 
“Oh, no, that’s makeup. But! I actually had time to put some on for once!” 
“Aww, Y-Y growin’ up!” Lucy teased and wiping pretend tears away and, patting them on the back and jokingly wiping away a tear. “But, how was Detention by the way?” 
“Oh, great, actually. I got some work done and I made a new friend,” Y/n admitted, beginning to doodle. Lucy smiled widely, seeming to be genuinely happy. 
“Good for you! I’ve noticed that my crowd seems to put you off – don’t give me that look, I’ve seen your face, I’ve worn that face, I’m only still around those loud assholes because they’re Vio’s friends, so I know how you feel – but, seriously. I’m happy for you, now you’ll have someone less obnoxious than the soccer team!” 
“You’re talking to me as if I have no friends other than you,” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her, grinning. 
“You know what I mean! You only really hang out with me and Vio, as well as that nerd in your History and Physics classes. TJ?” 
“TK, and they’re a sweetheart, I’ll have you know.” 
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but, anyway! Who’s your friend?” 

Y/n glanced down at the doodle and realised that without thinking, they’d drawn the new friend himself.  

“Oh, take a look, I just finished a drawing of him,” they pointed. Lucy followed their finger, their smile dropping as her violet eyes widened, pupils contracting. 
“No,” she hissed quietly, whipping her head back to face the other, panicked. Y/n groaned at her expression. “Not him! You can’t be friends with him, he’s- well HE FUCKING CURVE STOMPED A JOCK AND TEEETH ARE ALL GONE!” 
“Trouble? Yeah, I know, TK told me, but he was nice enough to me!” Y/n whispered back, frowning. Lucy shook her head violently, ignoring how her earrings bashed against her cheeks as they swung on her ears. 
“You can’t! Peter King is- He's-” 
“If he ends up being horrible, I’ll just back off! I’ll be fine, Lulu!” 
“But!-” 

“Excuse me, girls,” came Mrs Stewart’s voice and, ew, there’s only one girl here, Y/n grimaced, Lucy frowning as she caught on too. “Could we have some silence whilst I do roll-call, please?” 
“Sorry Miss,” Y/n slumped, staring down at their paper. Lucy continued to look on with irritation at the teacher, absently squeezing their hand in comfort. 

Soon enough, registration passed, and the class continued with its noise before the first bell went off to signify the change in classes. Lucy looked at Y/n, eyes worried.  

“She’s a shit teach, huh?” 
“I’m used to it, it was worse back in the UK,” Y/n shrugged, packing their things away so they wouldn’t have to hurry when the time came. Lucy sighed. 
“I’m sorry, y/n, I- Fuck, not just that old bat, but about Peter. I’m just- I don’t want you getting hurt, ok? And, well, he makes others hurt a lot. But, if you wanna try, I won’t stop you. You’ll tell me if he does hurt you though, yeah? Vio and the boys’ll kick his ass for you, heck, I’ll join in! It’d put my brown belt to good use!” 
“Thanks, Lulu,” Y/n smiled, picking up their bag as the bell rang. “And, hey, I can beat him up too if I have to! I do swimming! I have the muscle!” 
“You’re a bit small compared to him, Y-Y.” 
“So’s everyone else!” 
“You’re 5’4!” 

They paused as they walked, before laughing loudly.  

“Ah, whatever, you probably won’t need to, anyway. See you at Break?” 
“See ya, good luck in the halls!” Lucy shouted over the noise, grinning as she made her way to her Business class. Y/n sighed, looking back at her momentarily before pushing on through the crowds. 
“I’ll fucking need it,” they grumbled getting pushed to-and-fro by all the taller students, pulling up their hood and tugging on the cord to block out the smell of deodorant and teenage sweat as they made their way to a hopefully quiet classroom. 

Media had better have some sort of challenge today.

[theskeletonprior]

The Twenty-Second: Blasts from the Past

This is a casual little writing challenge to get myself into a habit, perhaps, or if not, to get some words from the meat of my brain to the pulp of the page. All of my stories for this challenge are set in the world of RAVENOT, and if you’re curious, you can take a look at my WIP intro right here. And if you’re really keen, you can read the first chapter (sort of a pilot as I toil) right here! Now onto the daily ramble.

I haven't been writing as much as I'd like, mostly because I've had some self-work that I've needed to do more. I've needed to rest, and think about how I'm using my newfound free time, and balance that with the practicalities of the world I'm living in. But also, in the wake of the announcement of a Soul Reaver 1&2 Remaster I've fallen back into some serious brainrot about a series that has been incredibly formative to me. When I saw the trailers I got so excited I was literally jumping up and down, which is not something that usually happens to me. There's also a graphic novel coming? I am absolutely frothing at the mouth, which for a skeleton is a pretty mean feat. I've loved the Legacy of Kain series since I first stumbled upon it at a time when I was too young to be playing M-rated video games. I have two tattoos featuring symbols from the series. It's the second most serious relationship I have in my life, and that's almost not a joke. I've been keeping a candle in the window for more ever since Legacy of Kain: Defiance came out. The story is incredible, the voice acting is excellent, and the character designs are absolutely bonkers. No one does vampires like this, and if they do, it's probably with thanks to Legacy of Kain. So yeah, anyway, if you're curious, there are lore videos on Youtube, and someone has also uploaded all the story cutscenes for your viewing pleasure. And it really is a pleasure. I'd recommend taking in the lore videos first, because it'll make the cutscenes easier to put together, but honestly they're pretty watchable even if you don't do that. Anyway, I've been immersed in that awesome story again, but it did strike me that it was even more formative than I've given it credit for--but that realization has actually fired me up about my writing in a roundabout way. My stories really are love letters to things like this, and thinking about it that way has been really exciting. I'd lost sight about how some of my favorite stories can make me feel, so this was like getting hit by a truck if getting hit by a truck could be awesome and affirming of one's craft. So I've been taking some time for immersion in someone else's very good work, and that has been nourishing, even if my word count hasn't budged much. (I did also work on The Bishop of Black today with my husband so I am still writing. So many projects, and only one me!) Anyway. I need it to be December urgently. Vae fucking victis, or whatever. And now, the tiniest excerpt ever:

The night wore on, the guard changing twice before the sky began to blush with the first light of day. Yarrowling came, looking weary. "'Til dawn, you said." Ravenot drew themself up, their long shadow passing over Yarrowling's wizened face, but before another word could pass between them, the first screams shook the morning air.

Until next time! Taglist: @alexanderflowerbird @void-botanist @carmillasboywife @ceph-the-ghost-writer

As always, let me know if you’d like to join or leave the taglist, and I’ll act accordingly.