#it now exists as a surface for me to store clothes in between clean and dirty

[egg-tats]

hey @aberrantcadaver I have some chair experience:

ok, so first, all gaming chairs are bad. they're overpriced and usually poorly designed, stay away

second, the absolute pinnical of chairs for desk sitting is the Herman Miller aeron. these puppies are expensive as fuck new, but check if there's anywhere nearby that sells used office furniture and you might be able to snap one up cheap.

speaking of cheap, amazon sells like 50 dollar office chairs. these are evil. NEVER spend less than you need to on anything that seperates you from the ground (chair, bed, shoes, car). you might save a bit of cash now but it'll cost you way more later. my office chair broke right at the start of the pandemic and the few months I spent sitting in this were personally the worst part of that period of my life.

if there is an office surplus place nearby but no aerons, still grab one from there if it's in good condition. a business knows that a worker with a back injury isnt a worker at all so they'll usually get nicer chairs than you'd expect for even a cheap office

at the low end of acceptible and affordable, you've got two options: Ikea (their chairs are fine I've been sitting in an Ikea jarvfjallet for like 12 hours a day for the last 2.5 years and it's still fine. most people reccomend the Markus but that wasn't an option for me in 2020 for global pandemic reasons) and the Costco faux leather one that everyone gets.

Now that I've used one, I prefer the mesh-backed chairs, if you tend to run cold you might not like it as much but it's a personal decision more than anything.

good luck with your chair struggles!

yo do you know shit abt chairs. i need a new one but the stores around here dont have anything & im 90% surw gaming chairs are a scam anyway. im queer & neurodivergent & i sit like it so there better not be armrests i cant put my legs under/over. anyway ty have fun w your streams :)

also ive realized i cant call myself aster after all bc thats the name of our dog from two dogs ago & just the thought of the shit jokes id have to put up w from everyone who knows is killing me lmao still best name tho i like the flowers too

oh my god were u hte person who was going to name urself after me lmao. s all good broski uhhhhhhh. im gonna keep it a bukc fifty with u i live in a dorm adn i just use the one htey gave me. it's kinda padded but ohterwise it's a cheapass office chair. despite spending like. literal hours gamign i dont really care what chair i sit in as long as it doestn make my ass hurt

im sure someone in hte notes could help u out though best of luck my dude

[heavenbarnes]

when it’s that time of night

Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, fully clothed sex, implied age gap, canon-typical spookiness

Word Count: 3.4k

i finally finished stranger things and i’m just as hot for hawkins chief of police as i was when i started, so here we are x

Gathered around Joyce Byers' kitchen table, your gaze flickered between the comotion unfolding in front of you, and Hopper. Things had undeniably changed since that evening, and those same things had only seemed to get, well, stranger. A silly part of you hoped that if you glared at him hard enough, things would start to become clear.

"I wouldn't normally do this, but you're about one of the only people I can trust."

Jim stood on your doorstep with three of the neighborhood kids, and one young girl you'd not seen before. This was not something you anticipated when you started seeing Hopper, but nevertheless, you stepped aside and let them in.

Maybe that was why he had brought them hear, because it was in your nature to care more about their safety than what made sense. You let the kids have your TV remote and flick through your records, before you turned back to Hopper with a kind of expression that said "you do this with all the girls that let you sleepover?"

And after that, in all hushed tones in your very small kitchen, Jim divulged tales of disappearing children and ones that could move things with their mind.

"I just need you to keep them safe for a few hours, then I'll explain even more."

As much as he did explain, you felt like the more you saw and heard, the less you knew. Listening to these kids, try to tell you that Joyce's son had been kidnapped by the monster from their boardgame? You felt like you needed to lay down a while.

Your skills ranged from serving diner meals on rollerskates, and driving the neighborhood boys crazy in the process. You weren't sure how you'd fear as a monster hunter. Young Jonathan Byers snapped you from your thoughts by throwing a theory out to the group.

"So for us to strike whilst the iron is hottest, we'd just need to know when it will all start happening again?" 

Everyone murmured in agreement but Hopper wasn't having it.

"Ok, so when exactly would that be? Are you going to tell me there is just a time that these things are all going to kick off?"

Your ears pricked up and suddenly your mouth was opening before your brain could catch it.

"Three in the morning." That had everyone's eyes on you.

Not used to hearing you join in on these things, Hopper prompted you to carry on.

You pushed up off the wall you were leaning against and spoke again. "Three in the morning, the witching hour."

"What is the witching hour?" Jonathan pressed you further.

"My Grandmother used to tell me about it, in folklore they say that three in the morning is the witching hour." You stepped further towards the table where they had all congregated.

"It's when the veil between this part of the world," One of your hands lay flat beneath your chin, whilst the other lay palm turned up in line with your belly "And this part of the world,"

"Like Australia?" Dustin questioned, receiving a smack in the arm from Mike.

"No, like the underworld or what you guys call the upside down, it's when the veil between the two is at it's thinnest allowing the unforgiving to travel through."

They all looked from each other and back to you, beginning to fear that you might be onto something.

"Believe me, I work in a 24-hour diner, if things are going to get strange it's going to be at three in the morning."

"What kind of strange?" Joyce spun round at that comment, a sort of pleading in her eyes.

"The lights will pulse, and the machines will start to get these electricity surges, I hate working the nights in there." The look she gave you began to prick the hairs on the back of your neck. "Why are you looking like I've just laid the last piece in your puzzle?"

"Because I think you just have."

Ever since you spoke the witching hour theory into existence, you hadn't been able to get it off your mind. That very next day, your boss called the house and told you that you'd be on the night shift, and Veronica's kid had mono so you'd be doing it alone.

Something told you that you'd made a mistake speaking it outloud, that now this- well whatever this was, but now that it knew you knew it's secrets, it was onto you. However that could've all been crazy, and maybe Hawkins was getting lazy with it's electrical and it just got screwy when they thought everyone was sleeping.

Regardless, it was now 1.41am and there wasn't a customer in sight. It was just you, the empty diner, and the fast approaching witching hour. For the first time in your life, you actually wished one of the town's teenage boys would come in and hound your for a date, just so you had some company.

You resorted to wiping down the counter for about the 30th time that night, a spot of mess at the one of the back booths catching your eye. Leaving the counter, you roller-skated down the back of the store and cleaned up the leftover baskets and napkins. You were bent over the table, flicking the the cloth over the surface when you heard it. The bell on the door.

Your blood rain cold and just about every hair on your body stood on end. An unexplainable feeling drifted over you, that feeling when you know it's all gone wrong, but there just isn't anything you can do about it. That feeling enveloped you and it took over you, you couldn't even bring yourself to turn your head.

Heavy, heavy steps were heading your way and you knew it was do or die. You could try shoot the gap to the backroom, that or beat whatever it was with your bare hands. As it got closer you geared up all your strength and spun around on your skate in an instant.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU STUPID FUCKING-"

"GOD, PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Hopper gripped your wrists and stilled you moments before you lay your fists in his eye sockets. Your breathing slowly came back down to a normal pace, but you could still feel your pulse rattling around in your body. Of course it was just Hopper, of course it wasn't a boardgame monster stopping by for a snack.

"What are you doing here?" You still sounded exasperated as you pulled your arms from his grip and threw yourself into his chest.

He brought both his arms around your shoulders and pulled you further into him, giving you a moment to calm yourself down. "I came in to keep you company, I know you've been a little on edge since you brought up that shit at the Byers' house."

"God, thank you so much, I'm sorry for trying to beat you to death." Voice muffled by his chest, your sentiments were still appreciated.

He brought you back down to the front of the shop and you took one side of the counter each. Fixing him a coffee as a half-hearted apology for the near miss, you slid it across the counter to take place of an olive branch. He accepted with a grin, unable to stay mad at you, even when you're trying to knock his teeth out.

"I am actually so sorry, I really have been on edge, I don't know why." Your head fell into your hands, gently tugging at your own hair.

"Hey, hey come here." He called you around the counter, turning around in his stool as you got closer.

Pulling you between his spread legs, you settled back into his hold, allowing those big hands to rub down the spanse of your back. Even his touch alone could soothe you, even when you were still a little terrified of a time on the clock. His hands moved to your lower back, gently rubbing away all the tensions you'd held inside you for sometime.

There was something about Hopper, from the moment you finally let him drive you home after a shift, giving in to his multitudes of compliments about your roller-skates and your coffee pouring and your little uniform. He was warm and he was kind, he made you laugh and he felt good when he wrapped himself around you. Oh, and it couldn't be forgotten that the Hawkins Chief of Police was unbelievable in the sack.

"You got any customers tonight?" His voice rumbled against your whole body, sounding from deep insdie his chest.

You pushed back from him, letting his hands fall to your waist and your eyes meet, your fingers played with the buttons of his uniform.

"Not since 11.30, and I won't see anymore, I never do." You sighed, tipping your head back with a petty groan. "I still don't know why they have me here so late."

Hopper's hands drifted lower, ever so slightly, until his fingers were toying with the hem of your dress. The gentle touch pricked your skin up, understanding from a touch alone exactly what his intentions were. You kept your gaze fixed on his, a look in your eye that almost seemed to say "go for it."

One of his hands took yours, long fingers slotting between yours as he pulled you out from between his legs. Your roller-skates glided you easily along the linoleum floor, putting you out in front of him.

"Do a twirl for me?" His mouth quirked up into a smirk, making a heat rise up your neck and settle at your cheeks.

You didn't so much agree as he did it for you, lifting your arm and twirling you around on the wheels of your skates. If your dress wasn't so tight, it would've spun around you, but your apron did it for you. An unmissable grin spread across Jim's face, watching your little pose at the end as you both giggled.

"I believe they have you here so late to keep you in this little uniform just a bit longer." His voice was gruff, pulling you towards him again.

"Oh is that what it is?"

"That is what it is," His hands went back to the hem and seemed to sneak under it. "It's to make life harder for me."

"So, this is about you?"

"All about me, it's so I have to sit at home and just think about your pretty ass skating around in this tiny fucking dress, and there isn't anything I can do about it."

It got hotter in the diner, right in that very moment, you could feel it spreading across your body as you lent into him. Your lips ghosted just moments above his, so close he could feel your breath on his skin.

"Well you aren't at home now," You whispered, very nearly placing your lips on his. "What are you 'gonna do about it?"

He didn't have to tell you, it was rather a display to show you what he'd do. His lips came to yours, his signature was a domineering kiss that left you reeling an unable to think of anything else afterwards. His kisses left a hold over you, the way his tongue felt against yours, the way his hands moved against you. This man had you good.

Standing up from the stool, he wrapped one hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him in one swift movement. Your hands went up to his jaw, feeling his coarse beard under your fingers as you pulled his face closer to yours. One of your hands took his hat from the top of his head and hung it off the register beside you.

Hopper kept his hand on your waist, and left the other go beneath your thigh. In one swift motion he lifted you, placing you down on the counter before pushing the skirt of your dress up your legs. With a hand on each knee, he spread them apart and pulled you right to the edge, pushing himself between them to get even closer.

You moaned into his mouth, the feeling of him handling you like his brought a wave over you, making your legs shake around him. One of his hands traveled higher up your thigh, making it's way past the bunched fabric and between your legs. Two fingers pressed firmly against the seat of your underwear and it was made apparent, just how wet he'd gotten you.

"Fuck, little lady you are always so good for me, aren't you?" His voice was nearly a bark, lips moving down your jaw and to your throat.

"I try my best, chief."

His motions stopped at the sound of that name, and within in instant he was pulling your underwear down your legs. It hung around one of your roller-skates as he pushed both your legs over his broad shoulders, leaning you back till you were perched up on your elbows.

Hopper's mouth found the meeting of your thighs, his tongue coming out to lick a fine stripe along your heat. Your mouth fell open and your hands flew to his head, fingers threading into his hair as he began to move his tongue against you.

Gasps and nearly pathetic whimpers fell from your lips as he worked against your clit, rolling it against his tongue with unreal precision. The only word leaving your lips was his title, the sound of chief filled the diner and bounced off the windows.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart as your body willed you to clamp them around his head. Your hips rolled forward, pressing you further into his mouth as his tongue moved down further before coming back up to that one spot.

So quickly, you could already feel that tension building inside you, a fine line of pleasure that was ready to snap. His eyes rose up to you, locking with you and making about every muscle inside you tighten. That look in his eye, it could've killed you the way you knew exactly what it meant.

He had a sweet tooth only you were pretty enough to sate.

One of his hands left your thigh and moved below the counter, you listened to the sound of his belt buckle as he haphazardly undid it one-handed. You heard his fly next and it was incredibly apparent that he was palming himself as his tongue still moved against you.

The thought, the image in your mind, the sounds he made as he moaned against your wetness it was all too much. Your head tipped back, fingers tightened in his hair as you cried out for him. You felt that line snap as your release washed over you.

Hopper never let up, lips still pursed around your clit as you rode out your high, nearly overtaking you. He never went to far, always new the line and he pulled back as he stood to full height. Your legs fell to his sides and you looked up to see him grasping himself in his hand.

His other hand trailed against your sensitive heat, two fingers dragging through the wetness that remained there.

"You have the sweetest fucking pussy I've ever got my hands on." He growled as he dove in for a kiss, the taste of you ever present on his lips.

He took that hand from between your legs and used it to slick up his cock, twisting your wetness around himself as he lay his head at your entrance. He dragged it along your sensitive cunt, before slowly pushing his way in.

The gasp that fell from you was iminent, Jim had a stretch like nothing else. Your body relaxed into this kiss and into him until he was hip-deep within you.

"And your pussy is so fucking tight, I can't believe how lucky I got." 

"It's all for you, chief, fuck me like you mean it."

So he did, his hands slid to the other side of the counter and gripped the edge before he delivered the first incredible blow. Your back arched up and a cry was ripped from within you as he pumped his hips quickly against your own.

Your hands shot up to grip his arms, feeling the muscles tensing beneath the cotton of his work shirt. Legs tensing up around his hips, moans and whimpers still steadily coming from you, it only seemed to spur him on like he was listening for the way you fell apart for him.

"You look so good taking my cock, pretty girl." He huffed, one hand leaving the counter to come and grip your hip.

He pulled you back against him with every thrust, striking deep inside you and rolling your eyes back in your head. Still on edge from the flood of pleasure he had just dipped you in, you felt like you were right there, teetering on the edge and waiting to be pushed over.

Always knowing exactly what he was doing, exactly what would drive you crazy and have you falling apart around him. Maybe this is what it had all been about, that talk about being with an older man, you'd heard the stories and he'd proven them all right.

From the moment you'd started sleeping over with each other, Hopper had changed your life. You didn't know if you could go back to nights without getting your back blown out by Jim Hopper. He would always talk about how he couldn't believe he got a pretty young thing like yourself, but you didn't know how you'd lucked out on someone that made you feel the way he did.

Gripping onto his uniform and crying out for him, you felt that hand on your hip slip down to your clit, rubbing furious circles against it. Another moan of that name, that title that until you had said it, was nothing more than a work give name. Now, the way that you said it gave it a whole new meaning.

It had gotten so bad that he had to stop asking you to call him that in front of people, after he'd pitched a tent the day you visited him at the station. Now that was reserved for teasing.

The way he touched you, how he knew your body, it had you dangerously close to coming undone for him once again that evening. Your heat clenched around him, dragging him in with a raw cry ripping out of your throat and rising above the both of you.

That line snapped once more and you couldn't help the way your hips rose from the counter and your body twitched under the mountain of pleasure. Over the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, you could hear the words of encouragement coming from Hopper.

He rode out your high with you again, pulling you back against him and refusing to let up as you felt him faltering slightly. "That's my good girl, 'gonna make me come."

You reached your hands up his chest, pulling against his shirt as you arched your back for him again. Your lips pursed as you mustered the strength to call out to him.

"Come for me, chief."

And that was enough to do it for him, his hips stilling tight against you as he came deep in you. Grunts and chopped cries of your name could be heard as he pulled you flush towards his chest, arms wrapped under your back as his heart hammered against both of your chests.

He let you back down from the counter, fixing himself as you pulled up your underwear and smoothed out your uniform. You placed his hat back on his head as he sat back on the stool, before you slotted back between his thighs.

As he wrapped his arms back around you, you heard, and then you saw it. That electrical pulsing, that buzzing that seemed to come from the lightbulbs. Right as your heart-rates had just come back as they should, you physically felt yours pick up again.

"Baby, what'd you call that damn time again?"

Your eyes moved from the flickering lights to the big clock on the wall, the one you usually focused on for your breaks. The hands were pointing clear as day, three in the morning.

"The witching hour."

[ifeellikeameowster]

Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic

Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.

Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)

Pairings: None!

Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)

Author's Note:

I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)

Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.

The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.

Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.

It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.

Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.

He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.

"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"

He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?

"…"

Well, what else was there to do?

He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.

He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.

He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.

He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.

Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.

"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.

Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"

Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"

"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"

Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"

Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.

Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.

"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.

"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."

"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"

Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.

"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"

"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"

"Wha- I- I asked you first!"

"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.

"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"

Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."

"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"

"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"

"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"

"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."

"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."

"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"

"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."

"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.

"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"

"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."

"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."

"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"

"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."

Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."

"Mhmm, sure it is."

A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.

"Just answer my question!!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"

"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"

"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."

"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"

"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"

"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"

He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.

Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.

"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"

"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"

"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"

"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"

"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"

"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."

He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."

"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...

Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.

Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.

"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."

Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.

"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.

Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."

"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"

Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.

"What?"

Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"

Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"

"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."

Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.

"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"

"..."

"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"

Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-

"Ow! What the hell are you-"

-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.

"You-You're hugging me?"

"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."

Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.

Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.

"...But I thought you hated me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"

He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."

"You do it first!"

"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"

"With medieval weapons?!"

"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.

"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"

"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"

"And there's the name calling again."

"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"

"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"

"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"

"You're completely unreasonable!"

"And you're too stuck up!"

Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.

They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.

"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"

"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"

"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"

"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"

"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"

"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"

"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"

Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"

Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"

"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.

"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"

"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.

The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.

His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.

"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.

"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"

"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.

Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.

Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.

Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.

Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"

Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."

Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."

"Wait, the same castle…?"

Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."

"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"

Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*

"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, bitch!"

"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"

Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"

"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"

"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.

Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "

"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"

Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.

"I have the best idea!"

"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."

" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.

"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"

Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.

"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"

"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"

Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"

"......what?"

"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"

Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"

"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"

"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"

Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"

Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.

The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.

"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."

He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…

Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.

Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"

"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"

Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"

Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."

Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…

"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."

Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, in Thomas' living room.

"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.

"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.

Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"

"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"

"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.

"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"

"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"

"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"

The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.

"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"

"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"

"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"

The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.

Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"

They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.

"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"

Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.

"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"

Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.

"Me!"

"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.

"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.

Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.

Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"

"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.

"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"

"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"

Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"

At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.

The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.

"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.

Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"

"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"

"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.

Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.

"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.

Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."

Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.

"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."

"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.

"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.

"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.

Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"

In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"

The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.

Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.

The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.

"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.

"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.

"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"

Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"

Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"

"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"

"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"

"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.

"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.

"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"

"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"

"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"

"I'm hallucinating?!"

"Yes, that is what I just said."

A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.

Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"

"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."

"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"

"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"

"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"

Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.

"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"

"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."

"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.

Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"

"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.

Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!

"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.

"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.

Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"

"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."

Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.

"...What? Where am I?"

"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."

"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."

"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"

The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.

"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"

He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.

Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"

"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"

"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"

"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."

Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"

The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"

"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."

"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.

"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"

"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.

The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.

[powermaknae]

Make a Wish

Birthday Boy! Yuta x Reader

You always celebrated Yuta’s birthday in a big way with surprises, friends and, of course, cake. This year you decided to do something very special for him.

~Smut, oral sex, hair pulling, kinky stuff, toys, unprotected sex, party themes, mentions of light drinking

Word Count: 2.3K~

A/N: In honor of our Takoyaki Prince’s birthday, I whipped up this little thing. If this doesn’t say that I’m a simp for Nakamoto Yuta, I don’t know what does. This man could spit in my face and I would thank him. (Sorry for any mistakes. I speed wrote this to get it finished and did not edit it at all :} ).

 Yuta’s birthday was always so special to you. You finally were able to celebrate the love of your life’s existence and shower him with love. You spent so much of your relationship not being able to celebrate it with him due to his busy schedule and other promotions, but this year, his big two five, you were finally able to celebrate together.

You had been planning it out, you would surprise him by ordering his favorite cake and invited some of the members over for drinks. You even went out and bought little decorations and balloons to put around the dorm.

You had a super secret surprise stashed away in his dresser draw that you were especially excited to try out tonight. You had found it in the back of an adult toy store a few weeks ago and new immediately Yuta would love to use it on you, so you bought it without telling him and wrapped it for him to find after the party.

Mark had taken him to go earring shopping to distract him while you set everything up. Taeyong and Doyoung helped place the balloons around the living room while you and Johnny went to pick up the food.

The cake was placed front and center at the table, surrounded by some of Yuta’s favorite snacks. The large number-shaped candles were already lit when you got the message from Mark, informing you that they had just entered the building. You quickly shushed everyone and hurried to turn off the lights.

The doorknob jingled as Yuta turned the key to enter. As soon as he turned the lights back on, the room roared to life with a “SURPRISE!” His radiant smile shined brightly against the flame of the candle. He immediately turned to you, taking you into his arms for a big hug.

“Did you do all this just for me?” You beamed up at him, watching his expression grow with happiness.

Johnny interrupted you with his frat boy persona, holding several bottles of soju in his two hands triumphantly.

“Come on. I’ll show you everything I found.” You dragged him by the wrist over to the table, pointing at all his favorite snacks. You grabbed a bottle from Johnny and poured yourself and Yuta a glass.

***

When the cake was half eaten, the trash can was filled with empty snack packages and everyone was more than a little tipsy, your collective friends started funneling out, leaving the residents of the 10th floor dormitory to clean up (minus Mark and Jungwoo, who were passed out).

While Yuta wandered off to use the restroom, Taeil meandered over to you casually, eyeing the mess of a kitchen that was left. He handed you a glass of water and leaned in. “Jaehyun and I will take care of this. We’re probably the most sober anyway. I saw what you got for Yuta. Enjoy.”

He winked at you as he went to find Jaehyun. Yuta reappeared, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You turn to face him, pressing your hands lightly against his chest as he holds you.

“I have another surprise for you,” you said with the most honey sweet voice you could muster among the alcohol.

“Baby girl, you’ve already spoiled me.” He leaned down to kiss you lightly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, minimizing the distance between the two of you. He pulled tighter against your waist and deepened the kiss, moving his lips gently against yours.

You managed to free yourself from his grip, grabbing his hand and tugged him behind you to his shared bedroom that you now had to yourselves. “Shouldn’t we help clean up,” he trailed behind you. “Taeil said he’d cover it.”

Closing the door behind you, Yuta quickly whipped you around, pushing your back into the door. He pulled you hips close, kissing you deeply in a moment of sobriety.

He pulled away but paid close attention to his proximity to you, careful not to pull too far away. He started easing his soft lips down to your neck, peppering it with kitten licks and small bites. “You’re so perfect,” he mewled against the skin.

You melted into his every touch, letting his hands and lips start to roam your body. He journeyed under your shirt, tugging at it lightly, but you denied him.

“Why don’t you go relax? I’ll be right there.” He lips curled into a smirk at the thought of what you had in store for him. He hesitantly pulled away, freeing you from the hard surface.

Yuta slumped onto the comfy bed, allowing himself to relax into the high of the alcohol. It was blissful but was still missing the warmth of his loved one. He closed his eyes, imagining what you would look like when you appeared again.

From the edge of the room, he heard the squeak of the door open once again. He slowly opened his eyes to gaze upon you. You had his signature favorite: one of his baggy sweatshirts that was too big for you, and thigh high blue striped socks. He smiled in a wholesome light, his eyes softening to a chocolate brown.

As you tiptoed ever-so-slowly closer to him, he spotted a new adornment around your neck. A black leather collar with a heart placed at the center reflected the low light of the atmosphere.

Seeing the collar around your pretty neck sparked that desire in Yuta once again. He couldn’t stop staring at it as he stood from the bed, looking for some contact. His hands immediately went to your bare ass, kneading it slightly as he began to kiss you aggressively. His movements were becoming slopping with the growing tension.

You tugged at the hem of his tshirt, slowly revealing the pale skin underneath. Yuta humored you, pulling the light wad of clothing over his head and throwing it behind him. The warmth radiating from his chest was comforting as you melted into his arms.

He tugs at your waist over top of the sweatshirt, coercing you to the bed with him. He pulls you onto his lap as he sits at the edge of the bed, holding your chest flush against his bare chest as he molds your lips together.

The rough contact of his black jeans against your core, even through the layer of underwear, was starting to become almost unbearable. You grind your hips against him lightly, trying to maintain your control and alleviate the pressure building.

Yuta moved one hand to your hip, guiding it lightly against him, and the other snaked in between your legs. A visible shiver swept over you at the sudden contact. He padded your swollen clit through your increasingly soaking underwear, the other hand making sure you met his movement.

His lips became feverish the longer you continue. You could feel his apparent erection pressing against you through the tight jeans.

He slows your movements against him for a moment, allowing himself to breathe.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and unbutton my pants for me?” His gaze was piercing as he looked you up and down over and over again. You smirked looking at his obvious discomfort.

The jeans were tighter than usual but you still managed to get them off along with his boxers in record time, landing them a position in the new pile of clothes forming in the corner. Upon taking them off, Yuta’s erection sprung to life, hitting his stomach. Your mouth watered just looking at it.

You positioned yourself in between his legs and wrapped one of your petite hands around it. He watched you carefully, following your movements with such love. You began stroking his cock slowly, savoring every reaction he would give you: every jerk, noise and, light push.

You moved your hand faster along his shaft, gaining even more energy from Yuta’s pleasure, but slowed again to see what he would do.

Expecting to be scolded, he simply brushed his fingers through your soft hair, pulling it back into hi fist and gripping it roughly. You already knew what he wanted, so instead of acting like a brat like most nights, you did as expected of you and began kissing up and down his shaft, licking intermittently. This earned you a small moan.

The more of him you took, the tighter his hold on your hair became, until you had taken as much of him as you could. You wrapped your hand around the base and began pumping again. Your cheeks hollowed and flattened out your tongue against his stiff cock. Your pace picked up, Yuta helping to bob your head on him until he was practically fucking your face.

He pushed your head up and down to his liking, taking you in every way he knew how. His cock began twitching against your tongue as you did the best you could to please him. His grip on your hair loosened suddenly and you glanced up at him, following his touch.

He lifted a finger, coaxing you back up from his cock. You obeyed, meeting him with your faces only inches apart. His index finger made its way down to your covered heat, brushing it lightly, making you squirm. He smirked up at you and seductively said, “Would you like to help me finish?”

It took a second to understand exactly what he is implying but you soon ended up climbing back onto his lap, straddling him under you and pushing him farther back onto the bed. Your slick permeating through your underwear as his hard cock is pressed close, only a single layer away.

You started to ride him slightly, soaking up any relief you could get. His finger still close to your core, Yuta slid your underwear aside, revealing your entrance.

You lifted yourself from his lap slightly, allowing him to align his member with you. He teased you, only pushing in the tip before pulling it out again. You whine with impatience, seeking the long-awaited pleasure of his cock inside you.

In one swift movement, Yuta snapped your hips down completely onto him. You let out a guttural moan escape your lips at the feeling of him filling you up. You could feel him stretching you out just a little, but nothing unfamiliar.

After sitting still for a second, allowing you to adjust, Yuta began bucking his hips up into you even deeper than you thought possible. You met his movements and bounced, intensifying every thrust.

His cock was pushing you over the edge, going in and out of your tight walls. You grew closer to your high with every thrust and you could tell Yuta was, too. His muscle started flexing and his cocked twitched inside you. Your moans were becoming louder, to the point that you knew for sure the other boys on the floor could hear.

Yuta loved showing everyone you were his. He loved pounding you so hard, they could hear it on all sides of the room. The knot in your stomach began to form, when Yuta sat up closer to you, pressing his warm lips against your neck and sucking harshly. He left several marks all the way from your jawline down to the edge of his sweatshirt.

He watched you bounce up and down with a fire in his eyes. He admired the marks he’d left around the collar, admired the collar itself and hard sexy it made you look.

“Yuta!” You yelled after one particularly rough trust. He could feel your walls tightening around him as he was reaching his own orgasm.

He dragged his long fingers up your body around your back and over every curved. He made his way up to your face, caressing it gently, before carefully wrapping them around your neck and giving it a good squeeze.

You let out a squeak in response, unable to hold back. His hand squeezed even harder the closer you got. In one final scream of his name, your orgasm washes over you, causing you to shake on top of Yuta, and lean your head back in ecstasy.

He showed his teeth at the beautiful sight of you, but his grip around your neck didn’t loosen. He keeps burying himself deep into you. You can’t hold your moans at the feeling of him pounding your sensitive pussy.

He became relentless, seeking his high with force, your moans fueling the fire within him.

He leaned his head back and let out several grunts before spilling his cum inside you. You moan out again, crying out his name as the sticky white substance coated your insides.

After riding out his high, his hand relaxed and your gasped for breath, letting the blood rush back to your head. You climbed off of him and collapsed next to him on the bed, the strength in your legs completely depleted. You could already feel the mix of fluids collection in your underwear, but you were way to tired to get up again.

Yuta, just as exhausted, simply looked to you with his sweet eyes and said, “Thank you for an amazing birthday.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” was all you could respond with before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

“I love you, too.” Yuta turned over and fell asleep cuddled up next to you.

[etherealluminescence]

Shdjdjjddjjs okay but, more buff cat hcs when ?? But seriously, i know it probably counts as crack hc but i enjoyed it way to much i cant get it out of my head anymore, i havent laught so much in a while now sjdjchdj. I sure hope the buff cat saga will continue !!

You know what? I’ll give you some buff cat content now. 😤 my school work can wait. And trust me, the buff cat saga WILL continue. I just tend to work on requests first rather than my own wants haha.

I’m really happy you like buff cat! Buff cat is my life now. Constantly haunted by buff cat. Maybe one day I’ll introduce a girlfriend or friends for buff cat too 🤔

Maybe I’ll do a background about buff cat and how they met MC?? And why buff cat is so attached to MC? I don’t know. 👉👈 maybe if someone requests, otherwise I’ll just do whatever I feel like in the moment.

Anyone can also feel free to request any buff cat scenarios!! If not I’ll think of some up. THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY. I WROTE THIS LIKE 1 HOUR OR SOMETHING STRAIGHT AHA.

The boys react to buff cat teaching you

Lucifer

Lucifer had noticed your grades were improving recently, and wanted to take you out to eat for working so hard to both keep up with your class.

When he came to your room, he saw a scene that honestly shouldn’t of surprised him, but did anyways.

You were sitting at your desk, books sprawled across the entire surface area of it. On top of a book pile was buff cat, wearing a pair of glasses, and he was using a pointer to show you important parts you should remember.

He watched in awe as you two never exchanged any words, but you were scribbling down definitions and important notes, while buff cat turned the pages and reviewed your work.

He’s gotten fairly use to buff cat cooking, cleaning, intimidating others, but he has never seen buff cat act like a teacher before, it was sort of new, and he even had a teacher outfit.

He swears that he never sees you buying these outfits, or that people in the devildom actually sell muscular cat clothing.

Buff Cat is the first to break the silence, looking over at Lucifer and positioning his pointer at Lucifer’s head, and then to in front of your desk.

You were still focused on your studying, knowing that you were steadily improving. Buff Cat got out a notepad from one of your desk drawers, and wrote “Leave what you require on this note, I am instructing MC right now, and when we are done tutoring I will give this note to them.”

Lucifer ended up having to take a rain check on taking you out to eat, and learned that your cat has really advanced vocabulary.

Mammon

He was failing the majority of his classes, and ended up asking you for help. You were his best shot, and you seemed to be passing all of your classes with flying colours.

You said you were happy to help him! Except that someone else was actually helping you study. They were a very efficient teacher.

He was relieved to hear that you’d introduce your teacher to him, until he found out it was that fucking demon spawn from hell.

He screeched so hard and ran out of the room, crying like a girl. “aAAAAaaaaAAAH”

Mammon is terrified of buff cat, and now you’re telling him this cat has the intelligence of a genius? You came to the devildom like a few months ago how is this cat tutoring you and making you pass your classes with ease??

He swears your cat is trying to plot for world domination or something. Will NEVER ask you to study with him again.

Leviathan

You walked into Levi’s room trying to find buff cat. It was a Sunday, which was typically a boys night out between them, but it was getting pretty late and you need to study.

There was a test tomorrow on devildom history, and you wanted to review one more time with buff cat, as to make sure you’ll do well on it.

“Mr. Kitty, are you here?” You called out, as soon as you said that Buff Cat paused the game and ran up to you. Levi was slightly annoyed as Buff Cat was beating a hard level for him, but he is your cat above all else.

You smiled as Buff Cat greeted you, and apologised for interrupting them. You explained to Levi how you wanted to review for the test, and if it wasn’t an issue could he spare around 20 minutes?

Levi huffed and agreed and called you a normie, and was about to pick up his switch when your words finally set in.

You put down the book you were carrying and got out a pencil, and took a piece of paper out of the book. You began writing down all of the important stuff on the paper while Buff Cat watched over your shoulder.

When you were finished, he went into the book with you and showed you a couple things you’ve missed or had forgotten, and then got you to write it down three times each as to remember. He even wrote a few essay questions for you which you got.

Levi was impressed. Not only did Buff Cat seem to know the whole devildom history by heart, he knew the exact pages and lines, and even how to write.

He didn’t really care as long as Buff Cat beats the hard level for him. He just considers it to be cool.

Satan

Satan was impressed with your high grades. It must be hard for a human to suddenly learn about a whole new realm, right? So if you had Cs he would understand, but you were getting 97s and 94s.

He understood everything when he started to notice what kind of books Buff Cat had been reading in his room, recently.

You all were having a test on curses soon, and Buff Cat came by his room and began looking for books about curses, and similar ones to what you all had been learning about.

Satan ended up chuckling to himself and found it amusing. It was amazing how your cat even spent his free time coming to someone’s room, finding books for your tests, and reads them before going back to you to help you understand the content.

He likes to get coffee with Buff Cat and talk about the stuff you’re learning in classes, he never directly said it to you, but he helps Buff Cat find specific books when Buff Cat comes over.

Asmodeous

Lucifer decided to punish the house of lamentations by taking away all of their electronics after they did something stupid again. The only way to earn it back, was through getting an 80% or higher on their next test.

You and Asmo suffered because you would normally look up answer during your test, and Asmo had no social media or contact with any of his friends with benefits.

You two weren’t ashamed to beg Buff Cat for help to pass your next test. He was probably the smartest in the house. He goes to Satan’s room almost every day and purchased books when he goes out. Your cat even tutored you when you were in elementary school.

You and Asmo barely needed to convince Buff Cat, as he was ecstatic to help you again. He’d do anything to help you, and was even willing to help Asmo out as well.

Asmo thought that Buff Cat looked REALLY adorable in his teacher’s outfit. A suit, tie, glasses, and his claws were so shiny from their manicure earlier.

Buff cat even slicked his fur back to look like he gel’d his hair. He was a literal fashion icon. Asmo could do some sewing, but nothing to the degree Buff Cat did.

Buff Cat had so many outfits he made himself, and he even did them so quickly. They all turned out perfect. Oh right, this was about studying wasn’t it?

Asmo never really asked questions about why your cat could just be so smart, and more so focused on how cool your cat looked. Priorities.

Beelzebub

Beel and Buff Cat are gym buddies, so naturally they’d walk home together from the gym. Everything was fine until Buff Cat’s MC senses were tingling, and began to walk towards you, crouching down in a store trying to figure out which notebooks to buy.

Beel thought it was pretty cool Buff Cat knew where you were, like how he and Belphie were that close to each other.

Brel asked you what you were doing, and you explained that you wanted to get some new notebooks because your old one is messy and confusing. You just scribbled whatever you could down, and were having a bit of a hard time in class.

Buff Cat immediately perked up, and you two seemed to have a conversation. He meowed and you happily said “I’d love that!”

Apparently, Buff Cat had offered to tutor you. Beel wasn’t so sure how well your cat could teach, though, considering he still is a cat, and offered to help you as well, since he wouldn’t like to see you sad from overworking yourself.

He was scribbling notes alongside with you five minutes into your first session together. Buff Cat wrote such simple explanations, and even prepared notecards ahead of time, Beel forgot he was supposed to teach you.

He is pretty fine with Buff Cat teaching you both, and once again forgets that Buff Cat is a “normal”? cat and not some weird creature that knows the answer to life.

Belphegor

Is really fucking terrified of your buff cat. Like TERRIFIED. So when he sees your cat in a teacher’s outfit sitting at the dinning room table, teaching you math, he was frozen.

He came down to get a glass of milk but what is this. Do you- do you have to do it in the living room?

There is no other reaction than physical fear coursing through his body his adrenaline is at the highest and his fight or flight instincts kick in.

He’s already fought once and that caused Buff Cat to exist in constant Buff form around him, so you can bet he is running.

Probably has a group chat with Mammon and Luke. “Buff Cat Conspiracy”. They talk about how scary buff cat is.

Diavolo

Buff Cat told Diavolo he was the one who helped you study. They were having conversation (buff cat used a notebook) and the topic of your studies came up. He mentioned how he had been helping you study, and understand the terminology in the Devildom better.

He was happy to hear that you understood it, and that it wasn’t too complicated for either of you too.

He actually asks if he can watch your study sessions, to see if he needs to lighten your workload just in case you’re pushing yourself too much.

You two allow him to watch, and he’s giving soft claps and smiles as the two of you give it your best.

Is honestly very happy with how much you two get along, and how you say it’s very simple since Buff Cat explains(meows) it in a very efficient manner.

He already knew Buff Cat was smart, but haha. Maybe he should hire Buff Cat to be a teacher or support class teacher for RAD?

Barbatos

You had grown accustomed to the devildom these past few months, and with Buff Cat with you, you were allowed to freely explore it when you want.

Buff Cat also happens to have a spare key to open the castle when he wishes.

Exam/testing season was coming up, and you knew you couldn’t study at the house of lamentation.

It was very distracting, and so you decided to go to the castle. No one will be screaming there, or trying to convince you your cat is a weird entity trying to plot world domination.

Barbatos was sort of used to seeing Buff Cat come and go as he pleases, but why were you here? Before he could say anything, you told him that you were visiting to study! And that you hope he didn’t mind that Buff Cat was going to tutor you.

Alright, so you’re studying, but why at the castle? You had to explain that it was very distracting at the house of lamentations, and Mammon was trying to convince you to get rid of your cat 24/7.

Ah, he could see that. Your cat isn’t exactly normal, and Mammon does occasionally scream like a girl. I promise I love Mammon. But it’s not like he minded, so long as you two were quiet and actually studied.

He left to clean for a bit, and when he returned to the guest room he saw you wearing a headband, violently writing down and muttering definitions at an insane pace. Buff Cat was in a teacher’s outfit, and holding out flash cards.

He’s slightly taken aback, but doesn’t show it anywhere on his face. He has never seen you so serious before, and neither has he seen Buff Cat so focused on you, as well.

He’s quite proud of you two for your hard work and dedication. He doesn’t interrupt but instead pours you three cups of tea, Buff Cat thanks him, and watches over you two.

Solomon

Solomon invited you over for a study session. He may be a little shady, but he does care for you, as a fellow human.

He was ecstatic to see Buff Cat come with you, because he still wants to dissect your cat.

He was about to talk to you about letting him research you cat, but you made yourself comfortable on his bed, and Buff Cat began to put on glasses and take out a pointer.

He didn’t have anytime to talk beforehand, as you were highlighting certain areas of your book, your cat pointing to certain parts, and you patted the bed beside you for Solomon to join.

Solomon’s plans to dissect your cat are set back another day, but he takes great interest in the way he teaches. Your cat is very methodical about how to remember things, and explains(meows) it rather simply.

He swears that your cat is not a normal human cat, but why can he sense literally zero magic power from it? If only Buff Cat could teach him that.

Solomon also gets 100% on the next test by remembering everything the way Buff Cat had taught you two.

Simeon

Absolutely chaotic man, when he sees you and Buff Cat in a classroom when school was over, he approached you two, and said hello.

You greeted him, and so did Buff Cat. He asked what you were doing after school so late, and that it was dangerous for the two of you. Buff Cat not so much but could still be in danger.

You told him you were studying for the upcoming test, and that Buff Cat was helping you.

Simeon was like!!! 💖👉👈💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥺🥺 could I join?? This sounds so fun!! Buff Cat is so smart!!

He does not question the fact he’s studying with a cat, learning from a cat, or just how nice your cat can write on paper, like perfect handwriting.

He has such chaotic energy that he’s just like you, what a cute cat!

Luke

no.

just no.

he’s fine with your cat but does your cat have to be in buff form when you’re being taught?

he is happy you are getting good grades but please get him away from buff form buff cat.

[sandersstudies]

Espresso-ly for You - Chapter Two

I liiiiiive! Or at least, my writing does. Like I said, I can’t and won’t promise regular updates on this one, but the sweet sweet coffeeshop AU will never let me go for sure.

Chapter One Here 

***

“Hey there, long time no see!” Janus said over the top of his mug. It was the one he brought from home, with a snake for a handle. 

“I saw you on Sunday,” Virgil said, slouching his backpack off his shoulder to store in the employee cupboard. 

“Yeah, but so much has happened since then,” Janus said, and then sipped his drink loudly. “Did Logan tell you about the birds that were fighting outside on Tuesday?”

“No.”

“See, of course he didn’t, he doesn’t care about the fun stuff. God, you look exhausted, let me get you a pick-me-up, you raccoon.” He began to measure a shot of espresso.

“I’ve already been drinking way too much soda to stay awake,” Virgil said.

“I’m not giving you soda, am I?” Janus asked, turning on the steam wand. “I’m giving you sweet bean juice, it will give you things no other drink can.” The shots pulling from the espresso machine dripped like warm honey, and Virgil had to admit they looked enticing. Janus was the most skilled barista in the cafe, going to local barista competitions three years in a row, and making it to the final round the last two years. 

“One of the benefits of working here is all the free coffee you want,” Janus said. “Might as well take advantage of it.” He’d barely looked at the machine while preparing the milk and espresso, but now, with a few seconds of intense focus, he guided his pitcher across the surface of the crema to create a delicate rosetta. “There, my nicest flat white of the day, all for you.”

Virgil took the cup and sipped. Perfect, creamy foam. 

Janus picked up his own cup and slurped the last of the coffee inside. “Well, better prepare for the lunchtime rush,” he said, checking his watch. “How was it yesterday?”

“Not too bad.”

“If you want to run register and food the first hour, I’ll run bar and then we can switch,” Janus said, reaching behind himself to tighten his apron strings. “If it slows down I’ll do a restock but I think we should be fine.”

Janus had been the first barista to push Virgil to run the espresso machine solo. When the morning or lunch rush came and there was a line out the door, Janus would watch and speak encouragingly, but never step in to rescue him the way Logan did.

“See these two cups?” Janus had said one day when Virgil could barely hold a milk pitcher without shaking. “These two drinks are the only ones you need to worry about right now. All those other drinks, all those other people, they don’t exist to you. It doesn’t matter if there are three drinks or thirty drinks waiting, you’re always working on these two drinks, and two drinks only.”

Eventually Virgil learned how to fall into a rhythm where he prepped one shot as another one pulled, poured one milk as another one steamed. Janus would flit back and forth from the register to the hand-off, confidently ringing in and handing out drinks as Virgil’s hands shook too hard to stop cups from spilling.

“You don’t need me,” Janus had said. “Someday you’re gonna be stuck up to your elbows in cappuccinos and I’m not going to be here, and you’ll have to haul them out of yourself. If I rescue you now, you won’t be able to do it then.”

Virgil had burned with frustration that Janus wouldn’t help him. But when the line dwindled, Virgil found himself reaching for the next cup in line, and it wasn’t there. He’d done it, he’d seen only two drinks in front of him and had conquered a breakfast rush. The customers had become a blur, and he’d honed in on more lattes and macchiatos than he could count.

“The next challenge,” Janus had said as they shared coffee in the following lull. “Is to bring the customers into focus too. Two things matter in coffeeshops, the coffee, and the people. You can’t let either one distract from the other.”

“You want me to do all that and small talk?”

“It gets easier with time.”

The retrospect that proved Janus right didn’t help Virgil to not feel aghast at the suggestion. It was easy to envy Janus’ ease around customers, asking Wendy how her radishes were doing as he poured her coffee, telling jokes to kids, and showing them the swan he’d drawn in their father’s latte. 

Virgil tied his apron and went to the front register. He ran his fingers over the screen. Pretending to type up a long order was his key both to eavesdropping and to looking busy, especially if he furrowed his brow just enough to look focused. Whenever a particularly angry customer started to complain at the other end of the counter, here Virgil would be, tapping like he was crafting a novel and not hitting the button for “doppio” a dozen times in a row. Meanwhile Janus, usually, would be the one at the end, silver-tongued and composed, listening with raised eyebrows and a soft smile. He’d turn around only when the cafe was empty to say “could you believe that jerk?”

A gaggle of college girls in matching volleyball t-shirts approached, and Virgil glanced at Janus, who cracked his knuckles dramatically. “May the coffee gods guide me,” he said as the bell on the door jangled merrily. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?”

“Large iced vanilla soy latte.”

“Medium blended caramel coffee, extra caramel, whipped cream.”

“Small almond latte.”

And so on down the line. Janus remained unfazed, continuing to greet other customers who braved entering the store despite the line. He called out every drink he made and made eye contact with each girl who picked hers up, even (Virgil thought he saw) winking a couple times. The hum of the espresso machine and hiss of the steam wand filled the cafe, singing along to the piano playing over the speakers. Was this Logan’s playlist?

The line didn’t end, after that. The girls cleared and were replaced by tides of office workers in pressed clothes from the smattering of office buildings that hemmed in the coffee shop on all sides. Friendly receptionists and personal assistants were a favorite of Virgil’s, and were perhaps the only ones who called him by endearments that didn’t feel horribly awkward.  Most of them tipped well. 

The cafe chairs filled up, representing casual business talks, friendly meet-ups, and solitary breaks from long days. All the grind-never-stop types had the coffee to-go, and those taking a quick respite adored the cafe’s “for here” cups. Virgil liked to watch for the people who perked up or relaxed with their first sip. One of the personal assistants from the building across the street (Virgil thought her name was Jackie) put her cappuccino to her lips and leaned back into her chair, the tension around her eyes softening.

A moment came where a couple of middle-aged women paused to examine the menu, and Janus appeared as if by magic at the register. 

“Tag team, let’s go! Your turn on the bar, kid.” 

Virgil moved to the espresso machine. Janus had not only finished the drinks in front of him, but wiped down the counter and machine to leave Virgil the perfect surface to begin again. The middle-aged women put in their orders, and Virgil felt like his vision zoomed in as he began the two drinks in front of him, and the two after that, and the two-

He was getting better at this now, even managed a croaked “hello,” to most of the customers who walked in the door, and a “thank you” as they took their drinks. He let the steam wand run a few extra seconds to feel the warmth bead on his face every time he started to get anxious. 

The lunch rush came to its merciful end, and Virgil took his break to chew a PB&J sandwich before Janus left for the day. As the clock hit two, the elder barista pulled his keys from the cupboard.

“I bid you adieu and an easy close,” he said, twirling his keychain around his hand as he clocked out. The jingle of his keys was followed by the jangle of the door behind him, and Virgil was alone in the cafe.

He brewed fresh coffee - they’d almost run out during the rush, and pause to sweep the floors and wipe down the counters. Running the store for the last three hours before close, and the chance to close the store by himself was both a responsibility and a chance for peace that Virgil appreciated. He liked helping customers, more spread out then before, and in between them finding little things to clean, extra minutes to practice his latte art - damn, how could Janus draw a rosetta so effortlessly? All Virgil’s came out looking like lumps. 

He aerated the milk gently, and heard the front bell ting.

“Hey there,” Virgil said without looking up, tilting his pitcher so the foam was perfectly incorporated. He turned the steam wand off and gently groomed the milk to pour. “Sorry, I’ll be right with you.” 

The milk texture was almost perfect. He guided his pitcher over the crema and… produced a haphazard rosetta. It was lopsided and a little mangled from Virgil swirling the crema too hard, but it wasn’t one of his worst attempts.

“Hey, that looks pretty good!” 

Virgil looked up and felt his ears get hot. Roman was leaning slightly over the bar (oh wow, he was even taller than Virgil had thought), staring at the cup. “Could you do one like that for me?”

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah uh… yeah, sure.” Nevermind that it was much harder to make oat milk froth properly. Virgil grabbed his non-dairy pitcher.

“Oh, could you make it as an large cinnamon-”

“Yeah, I got it.” Oh no, I cut him off. In too deep now. Virgil felt Roman’s gaze on him as he made the latte. The cinnamon-sugar topping made a nice base to draw with, but Virgil didn’t have as much experience with oat and soy, and the rosetta was barely visible as he finished it. Roman stared into the cup.

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “Still practicing.” 

“Oh, that’s okay,” Roman said, but sounded a bit disappointed. He left a ten on the counter. “Thanks for trying, the extra’s for you.” 

He left the cafe, and Virgil watched him vanish down the street, but just before he was out of sight, he put the to-go cup to his lips, and Virgil saw his shoulders relax.

[betwixtedthoughts]

Bet Thinks:

Masking is the external consequence of a very arduous internal process.

I can only speak for myself, but I have never stood at the door and thought, “I don’t want people to think I’m a freak, so I’m going to pretend to be normal.” Absolutely never! I have been blessed to be raised with a very patient brand of unconditional love, and so I have never once thought of myself as abnormal or a freak (except the funky fun kind).

This may not be the case for others on the spectrum, but that is why I cannot fathom “hiding symptoms” to be the cause behind masking because I still mask.

Masking is the result of what I call my “Mental Simulator.”

Everyone has one, but not everyone is constantly conscious of using it. What do you do when someone says, “Hi!” and waves at you across the street? Whatever your response is, that is the active use of your mental simulator. You already know what you’re going to do.

The only problem is, most people don’t even have to think about it. Their body just lifts their hand and waves back, their face breaks into a smile, and they say “Hi!” or “Good morning!” back. Most people don’t have to calculate the exact height at which to raise their hand, the volume or tone with which to say the words, and with what degree of smile appropriate.

And therein lies the problem with leaving the house. Masking happens as a coincidental result of always running that mental simulator. Or should I say the meltdowns are a coincidental result of overworking that mental simulator? Projecting as “normal” isn’t the abnormal condition, the breakdowns are. The meltdowns happen when the mental simulator cannot keep up.

Because see, when I get ready to leave the house, I am forced to prepare myself.

“I am about to step into the world, and there will be things I cannot predict out there. There will be loud sounds, bright lights, lots of things to touch and feel and smell, and lots of people.”

Which means my mental simulator is about to get a workout.

“Is there anyone else in the neighborhood outside? If there are, do I recognize any of them? If I do, is it appropriate to say hello? Have they seen me? Are they in a good mood? Should I say hello? What if they want to start a conversation? Do I have time for that before I need to leave?”

This process can happen rapidly. The more frequently an event occurs, the more prepared I am to deal with it. The more times I encounter someone (anyone) outside in my neighborhood, the more I can develop a rapid and suitable response. I can now wave and say hi while I walk to my car. I now know this is an acceptable response to seeing someone I know walking around outside. It is polite, but it also gets the message across that I need to go. Etc. etc.

Other times, this process lags. The more tired I am, the less experience I have with a situation, the more surprised I am by the event, and other circumstances can slow it down. That often means I end up missing the appropriate timing to respond. Several years ago, if someone were to say hello to me from across the street, I would be blindsided by it. I possibly offended many people because my simulator took too long to decide whether I should smile, wave, say hello back, do all three, or just keep going, and I lost the opportunity to respond.

How tired I am, my experience with the situation, and how surprised I am by the event are all alarmingly critical variables.

My mental simulator is continuously at work, and that takes energy, which means the longer I’m forced to keep it running at full speed, the more exhausted I become. The longer I am out, the more tired I am at the end. Makes sense, does it not? Yes, but the reality of the matter is that exhaustion is sometimes the difference between me being quick enough or too slow to respond to an event, especially at the end of the day.

There was a time where I couldn’t respond to a neighbor waving to me on my way in at the end of the day despite it being the same process as that morning, simply because I had overextended my simulator that day. I had no more energy left to run even one more simulation.

My experience, on the other hand, determines how deeply the event is buried and the amount of energy my simulator requires. It’s like running water down a pipe. If the pipe is small, clogged, or rusted shut, it takes a long time for water to get to the other end. But if the pipe is wide, clean, and frequently used, the water will rush through to the other side. This is the difference between something I’m encountering for the first time or for the hundredth time.

As for surprises, it’s not that I don’t like them! It’s just that surprises mean events I’m unprepared for. And even small events such as bumping into someone I know at the store can be jarring because it’s inserting a new simulation into an already running one.

Think of that like cooking. You’re preparing a meal, and you have all the ingredients and tools you’ll need. You’ve already set the pot on the stove. You’re adding ingredients to your pot. When all of a sudden, you’ve got an entirely different dish to prepare on top of it all. You’re in the middle of keeping track of the first meal because it’s already started, and it’s too late to stop now, but you’ve also got to slice, dice, and prepare the ingredients for this second dish.

Now you’ve got to get them both finished, and they both have to be edible. Sometimes the second dish has to be completed before you can get back to the first, and sometimes the first demands stirring or adding ingredients at fixed intervals. You’ve got no choice but to juggle them both.

Sounds exhausting, no? It’s just as exhausting dealing with surprises. In the same way someone might not mind preparing two dishes simultaneously, I don’t generally mind surprises, but it is still taxing.

And unfortunately, the insertion of these new simulations into existing ones is an inevitable result of leaving the house. That is part of the reason I “gear myself up” for the day before I leave. I have to be prepared to juggle sometimes upwards of ten different dishes at the same time, and they all are going to finish at different times and have different needs in the meantime.

Not to mention the more dishes you’ve got cooking at once, the easier it is to make mistakes. And making mistakes means you’ve got to expend energy to fix them, and the increase in frustration for making the mistake in the first place. Simple things become more and more difficult, until it feels like you either can’t do anything right or that it’s absolutely impossible to get everything done in time.

This mental strain leads, expectedly, to mental exhaustion. I am always tired when I get home, but I’m still not done for the day. Continuing with my metaphor, just because the dish is done cooking doesn’t mean I’m done in the kitchen. I still have to plate the meal, eat it, and clean up afterward.

When I get home, I shut down so I can process my day. I go over the entire excursion. I confirm that I accomplished everything I set out to do, and I review every interaction I inevitably encountered. Not only to make sure I didn’t commit a major faux pas but also to assimilate the events into my simulator for future reference. I reject or approve the effectiveness of the responses I made that day and prepare counter-responses for similar events in the future.

It doesn’t matter if it was a ten minute run to the store or an eight hour day at school, I do this every time I go out. The length of the time out, the strain on my simulator, and the number of surprises determine how much I have to go over and how long it will take for me to “restart.”

This is, incidentally, one of the reasons routines are so comforting. When I have a pattern, it becomes as close to autonomous as is possible for me. These routines become the simulations with the lowest amount of energy required. And I revert to these autonomous routines when I need to process.

I come home, and I fall into my “shut down routine.” I set aside my keys, hang my purse, take off my shoes, and change clothes. If I have not bounced back by that time, I now utilize idle clickers on my phone as they function exactly like my autonomous routine in giving my body something to do on the surface while allocating most of my energy to processing.

Lashing out occurs when the processing couldn’t finish or when my exhaustion levels exceed functioning level.

I don’t mean to bite people’s heads off when in that state, but in either situation, I am so tired that I have no energy to allocate to tone or vocal regulation and all I feel is one more simulation I need to run on zero energy.

Metaphorically, it’s like, in the process of cleaning up the entire kitchen, being told you need to start cooking again. To start the whole process all over again.

And at that point, I have no option but to “blue screen of death” and abort everything.

This often looks like I’ve jumped from a neutral basal state of concentration to immediate frustration or lashing out.

I’m not masking my symptoms while I’m out; I’m just running on, basically, an adrenaline rush. I’m geared up, on guard, and prepared for anything and everything the world has to throw at me. And I tunnel-focus on getting back home so I can retreat to my low-energy lifestyle.

For autism, experience is really the best coping mechanism. The more things you’re exposed to in low tension environments, the better off you’ll be in the long run. The more experience you have, the more you’ll develop routines for events outside, and the more stuff you can make low-energy, the less tired you will be at the end of the day, and so on.

Routines are about predictability, and we find predictable comfortable because we know what to do in response. Rather than lock yourself up in a bubble of comfortable, expand your comfortable. Develop patterns to handle events outside your current routine. It eases the burden on you mentally.

[peeves-a-legend]

Maximum Entropy

Original Fem!Elementalist x Wizarding World 

A.N. ~ Sooo... I made a new account finally!! And I wanted to restart my page with this piece that I had started a while ago. I hadn’t gotten around to finishing it, but I couldn’t let this idea slip through my fingers with the potential that it has (at least in theory lol). As of right now, the main love interest is undecided; I’m just going to let that unfold as a write. 

Summary ~ Beatrice Drayton is a fourth year at Arctosov Academy for Elementalists when a stranger comes searching for an alliance. Despite centuries of turmoil between hands and wands, she finds herself across the world, willing to work with the folk that bare wands. Harry isn’t the only one with a prophecy, and it just so happens that Drayton’s destiny relies on the success of Potter’s. End of HP book 4 and onward.

Warning ~ Language and probable violence (eventually)

Word Count ~ 4k

Chapter One

There are only a few days left of this term. Only a handful of classes left to study and then I’m free of academic duties for the summer. The bitter Canadian frost had finally submitted to the heat that the lengthened days brought, allowing the vast Boreal to bloom lush with green. Up until now, the school grounds remained in a turbulent state of snow, slush, and mud. Spring was honestly my least favourite time of the year. Maybe if the school was farther South I’d appreciate the season for what it’s worth, but sleet storms and the rapid amplification of mosquito swarms were all too common in the Northwest Territories prior to the sun and shine of the summer months.

I ran through the sun-lit halls of Arctosov Academy in a desperate attempt to get to class on time. It’s moments like this where I’m grateful for the sleek material of the uniform that hugs tight to my limbs and torso. When I was given the purple and black spandex in first year I complained about the tight-fit jumpsuit till I was blue in the face. It’s so itchy. I’ll freeze come wintertime in this cloth. It’s too tight. Blah, blah, blah. Little did I know that I would eventually praise the aerodynamic nature of it when gliding through the crowded corridors.

 The halls of the school were simple, straight passageways that stacked 13 floors high, etched into the side of one of the many mountains that framed the expansive waters of Great Bear Lake. The walls that continued with the face of the mountain were made of tall, clear diamond windows. The bottom of the diamond glass meets a white marble floor while the top of the smooth surface contrasts sharply against the jagged ceiling made of mountain rock. The wall opposite to the lake view was different on all 13 floors. For example, the 9th floor hall (the one that I am currently sprinting down) has a wall made of solid gold. It looks quite gaudy if you ask me. I much prefer the wall made of pure orange flames on the 4th floor. Along each of the distinctive corridors are doors that lead to different rooms that lay in the belly of the mountain. Classrooms, dorms, restrooms, the gym, the dining hall, the kitchen, the library, multiple training rooms, and so on. The only routes that connect each parallel floor to each other are the stairwells that resided at either end of the halls.

 As I dodge through bodies, I can’t help but curse my luck. Not even a time-turner could spare me a few moments of peace between classes that I have back to back and over each other. My brothers and my friends tell me I’m just being dramatic, but it’s not like they would actually know the stress of going through the amount of training that I’m subjected to. To think that I’m only in fourth year!

 I reach the last door on the opposite side of the hall that I entered from and swiftly glide through the misty veil that floats where a door would be placed anywhere else in the world. Arctosov is all about the dramatics when it comes to decor. As soon as the frothy air clears I’m met head on with a group of fifteen or so third, fourth, and fifth year students standing in a large circle. My brother Zaidyn notices me first, taking a step over to make room for me in the ring. I mouth a silent thanks and he offers a small smile in return.

 Our attention is quickly turned to the tall and slender man that paces in the center of the group. At least he had stopped publicly addressing my tardiness every time I showed up to his class a little more than five minutes late.

 ‘…We will be spending a great deal of time in today’s lesson harnessing the energy in the room in combination with the particles that occupy this space,’ thin lips stated as narrowed eyes observed the group of students. ‘We will be conjuring vortex winds; a tornado if you will. But the key is to keep it controlled and clean. If I witness any funnels produced above the hip,’ Professor Turcoff said, addressing a poor third year directly now, ‘consider your Friday evening booked with a detention.’

 ‘Well he seems to be in a stellar mood today, don’t you think?’ Zaidyn huffed quietly enough so that only I could hear.

 ‘Absolutely.’

 ‘Want to work together?’ 

I nodded in response as the circle separated off into smaller groups setting to work. We found a less crowded area off towards the edge of the large circular room. All the training rooms are circular in shape with high steel walls, a steel floor, and a steel ceiling. It’s like being trapped in a tin can and we’re the beans. Cool beans, might I add.

 ‘Now I want you all to focus,’ Turcoff said firmly over the mild chattering that circulated in the room. ‘I don’t just want you to start pushing the molecules around in your vicinity. I want you to feel them. Connect with them. Turn the gases into a fifth limb. Then, and only then, will you have total control.’

 With that, I closed my eyes and opened my palms at my side. This was always my favorite part of conjuring magic. To just feel the vibrations of the atoms that are at my mercy for manipulation. The fluid motion of the air as it swirls around each finger, catching ever so slightly on the craters of my fingerprints. The fuzzy, almost ticklish sensation when my skin radiates deep crimson and ripe orange flames. When I suck the moisture from the air that is plentiful, turning the vapours into a blanket of water that obeys at my command. The deep and gyrating rumble that surfaces from all four sides of the room that I’m standing in, mountain rock waiting to collapse if I let it.

 But the others wouldn’t understand, you see. For the individuals that attend this very class with me cannot feel the lick of a flame. They cannot consume the hydrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere that is necessary for the flickering lattice of its corresponding liquid. They cannot part the earth at its surprisingly brittle seams, only to allow greenery of sorts to erupt from deep within those cervices. They can only control the air that streams gently over the purple fabric of our jumpsuits. Of course, there are other things that all benders are capable of, but the limit of those abilities is always an arm’s reach away.

 All because of one silly chromosome.

 Now’s a great time to mention that I’m the only girl in a school full of boys. Why? Because I’m the first female bender that had been born in over 4000 years. The third one ever, to be exact. For whatever rhyme or reason it is extremely rare for a female bender to be conceived, to the point where it is literally unheard of. At least until my existence, that is. 

All male benders pass down their elemental ability to the children they procreate. If a son is born, he will take after his father’s magic. So will his sons, and his sons’ sons. But if a daughter is born… it’s a slightly different story. 

Female benders harness power differently than their male counterparts. They are able to tap into magical stores that allow access to all areas of elemental manipulation, rather than a single vault. We assume it has to do with the fact that the first bender was a woman herself. Born from the earth and nurtured by the universe, or however that story goes. 

But why are female benders so scarce? Nobody really knows. I personally think it’s a method to mediate power. I could not even begin to imagine a world filled with all-powerful women with a temperament like mine. The globe would combust in a matter of seconds. Nuclear, man.

 I open my eyes and witness a knee-height funnel of air directly in front of me, swirling gently in a clockwise coil. With a slight curl of my fingers, the twister begins to steadily grow till it’s at the height of my belly button.

 ‘That’s tall enough, Ms. Drayton.’ But I wasn’t going to feed it any more than I already had. I am in control. The particles will not control me. I look to my brother who has also mastered the task at hand, posture poised with a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. The rest of the room seemed quite confident as well, mind a few individuals who had let the wind get away on them.

 The rest of class seemed to be swept away and before long I’m reaching into the skin-hugging collar of my jumpsuit to retrieve the time-turner from around my neck. Four down, only eight more classes to go till dinner. Kill me now.

 When I started school in first year, I was beyond excited to learn how to let my powers flourish. But if somebody would have told me that I would be taking four times the amount of school work as every other student at Arctosov, I think it’s fair to say that my enthusiasm wouldn’t have peaked so high. It is partially my fault though. I had been advised to extend my school years to double the standard duration. Unfortunately, fourteen years fell onto deaf ears. 

Finding shortcuts is my specialty. 

At least some classes are mandatory for all students, like elemental and magical history, calculus, magical and muggle variations of physics and chemistry, and other basic level classes that focus on universal bender abilities. I guess that knocks a couple extra classes off my horrendously long list of academic requirements. Unfortunately, that still leaves quite a hefty load of ability-specific classes on my plate.

 ~

 The day couldn’t have gone any slower. I mean, it was all fine and dandy until some imbecile pissed off Professor Yawny in Flora Manipulation. The idiot conjured a garden of nettle and didn’t know how to retract the growth, which ultimately led to the suffering of some unsuspecting bystanders. Got a hive or two myself, but nothing compared to the group of students that took the brunt of it on the front line. This little stunt earned the class a ten-page essay on retracting plant growth and the dangers of uncontrolled herbage. Honestly, just what I needed.

 As soon as the last period bell chimed (for the third time today), I quickly chucked my notebook and ballpoint into my bag and hurried out of Atomic Theory. I always change out of my jumpsuit before dinner. I hate eating in clothes that expose my well-fed stomach. 

I make my way up to the thirteenth floor to access my dorm. The thirteenth floor is by far the coziest of them all. Instead of cleared and pristine halls, upon entering the corridor one is met with a scattered array of sofas, tables littered with magical and muggle games, bookshelves cluttered with various paperback and hardcover copies, and the single Jadeite wall lined with primarily hockey and quidditch posters. A stereo plays some top muggle hits; the audio competes for volume with the crackling sounds that emit from the large pit in the centre of the hall where a seven-foot high flame resides. There are only two doors carved into the green wall: the girl’s and the boy’s dorms. 

The boy’s dorm is essentially a revolving door. People are always filing in and out of the community space. The girl’s dorm on the other hand was simply built out of respect. They never expected anybody to occupy the space, but knew that even though the chances were slim, a female student might enrol one day or another. Thank God for those engineers’ prognostic train of thought, otherwise I’d be either bunking in the fifth-floor supply closet or with a bunch of dudes.

 Weaving my way around a collection of occupied ping-pong and pool tables, I move quickly not to interfere with the final plays of said matches. These boys tend to get cranky with hunger and exhaustion during the final countdown before supper. The steady sound of the hall dies as I pass through the veil that mists over the entrance to the girl’s dorm. It’s a plain space, but what can I say, I’m the only chick to enter this part of the underground school. I’ve managed to liven the place up with some creeping vines and flowers along the tall, straight marble walls that lead to several bedrooms and baths. Even though the hall is meant to appear light and spacious, the lack of fellow roommates makes this place feel more than empty. Like a blank sheet of lined paper, everything here remains untouched and waiting for scuffs and scrapes of wear, something to push its clean order into the hands of disorder. 

Chaos theory loves to make a mess of things.

 I swing through the eighth door on the right into the space that I had claimed as mine. I got rid of the other three unoccupied beds and transformed the room into one that I could proudly call my home away from home. Just like every other room in the school, the dorm is circular, so placing furniture in a way that I didn’t hate turned out to be a real pain in my ass. It took me all of first year to decide where I wanted to place my bed, my desk, and my wardrobe in relation to the door. Once I figured that out, the rest was quite fun. Potted plants invade any and all counter space available in the room, while little knick knacks can also be spotted within the jungle. The skylight ceiling illuminates the white brick walls, casting an intense glare to any prying eyes above the diamond-glass. I think it’s chic.

 I rummaged through my wardrobe for a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and my royal purple Arctosov crested pullover. One look in the full-length mirror, quickly fixing my hair to get it up and out of my face, and I set off towards the dining hall. I was at the top of the thirteen flights of stairs when a hand closed around my shoulder, slowing my quick pace.

 ‘In a rush are we, ‘B’?’ Jaxon. The only person in this school foolish enough to get between me and my awaiting meal. I sped up, forcing the gangly fourth year to keep stride.

 ‘You try tack on eight extra classes to your schedule. See how you fair come dinner time.’

 ‘I think you’re just complaining for pity,’ he teased, meeting my rib with his elbow. ‘“Look at me, the most powerful being alive. Tired, stressed, and hungry! You have no idea what it’s like to be so damn awesome all the time! It’s exhausting! I –”’ My hand shot out to push Jaxon off balance, nearly sending him down the last couple stairs in the flight we were walking down.

 ‘Your impression of me is beyond inaccurate.’

 ‘And your muscles are beyond underestimated,’ Jaxon shot back with a smirk, rubbing his arm where I contacted him with the blow. ‘Didn’t know you possessed the power of super-strength as well.’

 ‘Like you said, I’m just so damn awesome.’ Our grins mirrored each other as we bounded down the rest of the steps to the first-floor dining hall. This is how our banter went most of the time. It was quick, it was witty, it was smooth. He always knows just how far to push to elicit a shove back, and I always shove back. But he also knows when he’s about to push too far. Rarely ever had we actually fought with one another. In the last four years of school, we’ve only actually fought once, and that’s a story nobody talks about anymore. It was stupid, but it was explosive, and I mean literally explosive. Jaxon is a fire bender, so I’m lucky that I have the ability to take the heat. The library shelves that surrounded us during the dispute… well, they didn’t survive. 

Jaxon was my best friend. A brother. Nothing more, nothing less. In my eyes at least.

 Like cattle, students were milling into and about the dining hall trying to find a place to sit at the single spiral table that coiled into the center of the round room. Purple banners bearing our school crest hung from the high rock ceiling, flashing the menacing stare of the Kodiak that was featured in the heart of the emblem. The student body had encountered a few of the rather large bears during my years at the academy. I never thought I’d ever get the chance to witness such fear amongst a group of insufferably cocky teenage boys, and I loved every second of it. Bunch of pansies.

 ‘B!’ My attention is quickly captured by my two brothers sitting in the middle of the spiral of students. Jaxon and I walk down the winding aisle to sit in front of Zaidyn and Treston, who have also changed out of their uniforms. It is only when we take our seats that I realize that something is definitely not right.

 ‘Hey guys, why the long faces?’ I ask, hesitation evident in my wavering tone. If Treston looks startled, then something big must have happened. This sixth year is not easily phased. 

A couple of our other friends join the group, sitting on either side of Zaidyn and myself. They also become attentive to the tension held within the conversation. Bret and Oscar share a look between themselves then with me, silently looking for an explanation. I simply shrug my shoulders. 

This is weird.

 Treston is the first to speak. ‘Didn’t you hear?’

 ‘Hear what?’ Jaxon and I replied in unison.

 ‘One of them is here,’ Zaidyn continued. ‘Apparently wants to give a speech or something after supper. Not sure what about though.’

 ‘What do you mean here?’ snaps Jaxon. ‘I thought that they weren’t allowed on our turf?’

 ‘Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate it if someone of our kind went poking a nose over the fence,’ Oscar added. Zaidyn simply shook his head in shock. ‘I mean, legally they can’t be here, right? Documentation exists for a reason –’

 ‘Documentation is nothing but a piece of paper and a couple of lousy signatures. Words mean nothing to them. They’ve always turned their backs on allies and their own. Don’t you ever pay attention in Magical History?’ It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but I can still see how my sharp words stung Oscar. He’s always had too much pride for his own good, especially when it comes to his grades in school. His glare notified me that I’d hit a weak spot.

 ‘Alright ladies, claws away,’ Bret chimed in. Always there to referee, but it’s usually Jaxon and I that he tries to simmer down. ‘I know it’s news that none of us want to hear, but if it’s true then we have to keep our heads on our shoulders and on a swivel. I can’t see anything good coming out of this, and I know neither can any of you,’ he said addressing the quiet group.

 ‘All I’m saying is that agreements were made for a reason. If they hadn’t been made, then the magical world would be in a completely different state as of right now. They should be considering themselves lucky that they aren’t extinct,’ Oscar sighed. I had to agree with him there. ‘Our ancestors were patient and wise, which is why we lost so much blood to the wands. But too much animosity had festered for far too long, and quite frankly I don’t consider myself patient or wise. You can’t tell me today’s generation would be so kind as to forgive and forget.’

 Oscar was right and we all knew it. Everybody in the hall knew it, too. We may have forgiven them, but we sure as hell have not forgotten. We are reminded every day we walk through these halls – the only halls on the planet that houses students of our kind. The number of benders left was a thought to make my blood run cold. Although, we are making a comeback; slowly but surely. I gave Oscar a small half-understanding, half-apologetic smile.

 Before I could add anything further to Oscar’s words of truth, a lavish dinner appeared on the table below our chins. Elk roast, wild salmon, kale salad, stuffed mushrooms, and more. I prayed that saskatoon pie was being served for dessert later in the evening. The apprehensive atmosphere quickly dissipated as we dug into our grub. Frowns were replaced with filled-cheek smiles, and the uneasy silence was enveloped in hearty laughter. Talk of the latest playoff news and summer plans seemed to entertain the table enough to keep the conversation going. It was interesting being a part of the guy’s gossip sessions during meals. Not that I would actually call it gossip; maybe more along the lines of petty pissing contests. Wouldn’t be the first time I sat through a mine’s bigger than yours argument.

 It was when our Headmaster stood up from the semi-circle teacher’s table at the back of the hall that the reality of the situation set in once again. Professor Fobert never has to gather the attention of the many eyes leering in anticipation, for their focus was already on him. Fobert’s aura demanded one’s gaze, it did not ask. He was tall, sternly featured, and looked tough as nails. His black-scaled tunic wrapped snugly around his torso, making the greying man look ready for battle at a moment’s notice. When the hall’s sound died down, all that could be heard was the vibrations from deep within the mountain’s abdomen, rock waiting to respond to our Headmaster’s request.

 ‘Good evening, students. I shall speak frankly and I shall speak clearly, that way you will not misunderstand what I am about to tell you.’

 Well that’s a new introduction.

 ‘I have never assumed any of you as naive, therefore I refuse to start now.’

 A very new introduction.

 ‘Most of you are aware that we have a guest joining us this evening. A guest that has come from overseas to speak to you all.’ It seemed as though our Headmaster couldn’t speak quickly enough. Every student in the room was now perched on the edge of their seat, listening intently for the next words to leave Fobert’s mouth. We knew where this was going, but nobody wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room. 

Fobert opened his mouth to speak again, but words never escaped. Instead, a toothy grin tightened the flesh around his chin, and his eyes looked over the heads of the students sitting before him. Naturally, we all turned our heads in the direction of our superior’s gaze towards the entrance to the hall.

 If the hall was quiet a moment ago, it sure as shit wasn’t anymore. We didn’t even need a second take to confirm our suspicion.

 The man was about the same height as Professor Fobert, but the age difference was quite notable. Where Fobert was steeled with sharp middle-aged wear, the other man appeared worn with the drooping and sagging lines of old-age. He did not wear a tunic and pants, but a floor-length grey robe that matched the colour of his long, neatly kept beard. The cuffs on his sleeves tapered off in the shape of a bell at the knuckles of his boney fingers.

 Only people of wizarding blood dressed like that.

 ‘Albus!’ 

[imaginejamesandsirius]

How Sirius and James will get together if there is no war and at first James married Lily, but after some time both him and Lily of them realised that they are not actyally love each other so strong and etc. Thank you!

James was sat at the table, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Divorce. 

It wasn't the nicest word he'd ever heard. Despite what everyone might think, he knew that him and Lily hadn't been in love anymore. He hadn't given it much thought though. Relationships changed, that's part of the nature of getting older-- things change with time. So yes, James had known that they weren't in love anymore, but he didn't let it worry him. If he gave it more time, he was sure that they'd fall back in love. He didn't have to ask anyone if that's how relationships were; he thought he knew. They fell out of love, and surely they would fall back in love if he waited. 

Lily said that she didn't think they'd ever be in love, and James had tried to think about it, but then he felt like he couldn't breathe with panic so he stopped. 

So yes, now he was sat at the table, trying to think of what the ever-loving fuck he was going to do. He had to tell his mates that him and Lily had split. He had to find somewhere to live. He had to remember how to clean dishes because him and Lily had split chores, and she had chosen dishes since he agreed to do all the laundry. In a couple months-- or years, or however long it was going to take for him to get past this-- he was going to have to remember how to date. That wasn't a very good thought, but he was so vastly unprepared for that that it seemed an outlandish idea. 

He heard the floo go while he was occupied staring at the surface of the table, and he didn't look up, assuming that it was Lily getting back from grabbing some tea. He wasn't convinced she was actually getting tea every time she said that. Until they stopped living together though, that was going to continue. She wanted time alone, and their room wasn't exactly neutral territory. If she wasn't leaving the house to go out, James would probably be doing it. 

"James? You alright there, mate?" 

Sirius. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. He was suddenly very aware that his elbow hurt from leaning his head against it. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting like that, doing nothing, but it must have been a while. "What're you doing here?" 

"You were supposed to meet me at the Leaky so I could take you muggle shopping, remember?" 

James looked over at him. It's true that Sirius was dressed in his usual muggle-outing clothes. "Yeah." He'd asked Sirius to take him shopping because the anniversary of his wedding was coming up, and he knew that Lily preferred muggle jewelry to magical jewelry; he'd planned to spend a few hours looking at necklaces and earrings because Merlin knew she deserved it. Getting an expensive gift for your ex-wife wasn't done though, so James should have canceled. The truth was that he'd completely forgotten about it the moment Lily had said the word 'divorce'. "Sorry love, I forgot all about it." It's only after he called Sirius 'love' that it occurred to him that he probably liked Sirius more than Lily. Always had. Lily was bloody wonderful, and he... Maybe Lily had been right about them never being in love. They'd been young, and they'd thought she was pregnant for a while there, but it had felt right, so they'd gotten married. 

"It's alright," Sirius said easily, lounging in one of the other chairs around the table. His legs were splayed out in front of him, and he nudged James's leg with the toe of his boot after he got settled. "What's with you? You normally don't forget about me." 

"I didn't forget about you-- I just forgot we had plans." 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "It was a joke. You and Lily okay?" 

The word divorce echoed around his head like the hollow of a bell. "We're separating," he said, because that didn't sound quite as bad. 

"Ah," Sirius said. He wasn't surprised. There was an understanding, sympathetic look on his face. "And you didn't see it coming?" 

James shook his head. "I mean, I knew we weren't in love anymore, but I thought that was pretty normal." 

"You thought it was normal to not love your wife?" 

James glared at him. 

"You have to admit that it sounds a little suspect." 

"I thought it was a phase," James grumbled. "We didn't love each other, so what? We'd fall back into it later on. You don't have to tell me that it's a shite idea. I found that out when I mentioned it to Lily." 

"You told her that?" 

James's glare intensified. 

"Not judging," Sirius said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Do you know what you're going to do?" 

"About what?" 

"Well... any of it. What you're going to tell people. How you're going to deal with gatherings where you'll both be there." 

"We're separating; we're not mortal enemies." 

"Yeah, I know, but divorce can change things. Perfectly tolerable habits suddenly annoy the hell out of you." 

"What makes you an expert?" 

"I'm not an expert, but I pay attention. Marlene's parents, remember?" Lily had been Head Girl and was too busy, and Mary and Dorcas had just started dating and she hadn't wanted to bother them. 

James blew out a breath, feeling very tired now that he wasn't propping himself up. "Right. I haven't... I haven't figured anything out yet. Not erm- not yet, anyways." 

"You can stay with me. Merlin knows I've got the space." 

"Really?" 

Sirius gave a crooked smile. "'Course. Can't leave my little Jamie out to dry." 

"We're the same size." 

"Ah, but I'm taller." 

James rolled his eyes. This was a well-worn argument, but one that made him feel better when faced with so much uncertainty. 

*

"Hey Lils," Sirius said, busing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gave a weak smile. 

"You alright?" 

"Just-" she shrugged with one shoulder. "I guess I thought that now that me and James have split, you wouldn't..." 

"Wouldn't like you anymore?" Sirius guessed, and she nodded. He snorted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering them towards the furniture store. They'd written a few letters back and forth, but this was the first time seeing each other in person since she was trying to avoid seeing James for a little while. This was the first time James had been busy when both Lily and Sirius were free, so he was helping her shop for new furniture for her flat while they had the time. "If I'd only been pretending, I'm sure that would be what happened. Unfortunately, you are quite talented at making friends, and I was helpless to resist." 

"Not sure you've ever been helpless." 

Sirius laughed. "Flattery will do you a world of good, Miss Evans." She'd decided to switch back to her old name, and Sirius knew she was nervous about it. "What are we in the market for today?" 

"Everything?" 

"If that's not an invitation to buy you one of each chair, I don't know what it is." 

"Bloody hell. You're here for heavy lifting, not your opinion." 

"Rude. I have excellent taste." 

"I'm sure," she said dryly. 

*

"Do you ever think that love is fake?" James asked, looking up at the ceiling. If the question hadn't been enough to tip Sirius off that James was in a strange mood, the fact that he was lying on the ground instead of the couch would've done it. 

"Fake how?" 

"That we make it up to be this emotion that we all feel but it doesn't actually exist." 

"No. I mean, what about us? I love you. That's real; it's not a fake emotion." 

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." 

Sirius frowned. "I'm lost. How is me loving you proof that love is fake?" 

"Romantic love. It's fake." 

"So... you think that romantic love is fake because we're best mates?" 

"If you can't fall in love with me, no one can." 

"Does what you're saying make sense to you?" Sirius asked, more confused than ever. 

"I love you." 

"Yeah, I love you too." 

"That's not what I meant." 

"Right," Sirius said slowly. "Have you been drinking?" 

James pushed himself up onto his elbows to glare at Sirius. "No." 

"Then start making sense." 

"No," he said again, petulantly this time, and laid back on the floor. 

"Okaaay." Sirius wasn't altogether certain that he believed James when he said he hadn't been drinking, so when he was grabbing a cup for water, he checked the firewhiskey. It looked about the same that it had been before, which was good, but it didn't explain what was going on with James. 

He realised the date before dinner. Their anniversary. No wonder James was all twisted up. Maybe he hadn't been in love with Lily for a while, but they'd been together for nearly five years. A change that big was bound to effect you, whether you'd been in love with the person or not when you separated. 

*

The divorce had been finalised. Lily had officially moved into her own flat and made it like a home. It had been four months since they'd decided to separate, and it felt like things were going to be okay. It was still a little weird between them, but they were managing. James hadn't mentioned wanting to move out, and Sirius hadn't brought it up. They hadn't officially talked about it, but James was there to stay. He'd bought a new dresser since the last one he'd had was a shared one with Lily and far too big for the other room, and Sirius had helped him move it into his room without questioning the decision. 

At this point, he'd panic a bit if James announced that he was leaving. Sirius liked the company, and he knew that James felt the same. Or at least, he knew that if James minded, he would've found somewhere to live by now. 

"Sirius?" 

"Hm?" He didn't look away from the magazine he was flipping through. 

"Have you ever been in love?" 

"Yes," Sirius said, but that sounded too certain and he didn't want for James to ask too many questions. "I think so." 

"Who?" 

"Does it matter? We're not together." 

Not "we're not together anymore". It was "we're not together", period. James noticed that little detail. "You never dated?" 

"Does it matter?" Sirius repeated. 

"Who is it? How could you be in love with someone you never dated? Why don't I know them?" 

"What makes you think you don't?" 

"I know you," was James's immediate response. "I'd think that if I saw you together, I would notice something like that." 

Sirius flipped the page of his magazine and said nothing. 

James sighed. "I guess I don't know much about what people look like when they're in love, huh?" he joked. He wasn't mad at Sirius for not telling him, and he wanted to hear that Sirius wasn't upset with him either. 

So Sirius smirked a little and said, "Eh, don't worry about it. I'd like to think I hid it quite nicely." 

*

"What are we?" James asked. 

"What are we...?" 

"Yeah." 

"What?" 

"What what?" 

There was a moment where they both paused and frowned at each other. "What the hell are you talking about?" Sirius asked. "You started to ask a question, never finished, and I tried to get you to complete it, and then you stopped making sense." 

"Oh." That's not the way James had experienced it, but whatever. "No, I meant: what are we to each other?" 

"Er, best mates? Flat mates? Friends through thick and thin? Not that I'm sure what the thin or the thick is supposed to mean, but I know it's good that we stick together." 

"...right," James said, subdued. 

Sirius glanced at him, then did a double take at the expression on his face. He looked depressed. Worse than when him and Lily had split, because when that had happened, he was more lost than sad. He'd been sad when his parents died, but they'd been old and gotten sick; they'd all known that it was coming. "Are you sad that we're friends or summat?" 

"Of course not," he muttered, still looking down. 

"Then why are you upset?" 

"I'm not." 

"Oh is that what we're doing now? Lying to each other? Alright, I can get on board with that. I'd like to start with the quote unquote truth of what happened that night I got absolutely sloshed. It all started when I was riding a unicorn through the halls of my ancestral home-" 

"You know that's not what I meant," James mumbled. 

"Of course I do, but you're not talking to me. If you're having doubts about how much I care about you, shouldn't you tell me that straight out? I don't mind telling you. Or-" he said, switching directions as something occurred to him "-is this something you're trying to break to me? Are you wanting to move out? I'd miss you, obviously, but I'm not going to make you stay here if you'd rather live on your own." 

"I'm not moving out." 

"Then what's going on?" 

"Would you go on a date with me?" 

"What?" 

"A date. With me." 

"Are you... sure? That that's what you want, I mean. A date- well that changes things. Whether it goes good or bad, it's going to be different." 

James nodded. "I'm sure. I've been thinking about it for a while." 

Sirius wanted to say yes. More than anything, he wanted to say yes. He couldn't help but think that this was going to be something of a rebound for James, though. The first date after a divorce didn't lead to happily ever after. But he also knew that if he said no, there wouldn't be a second time. James would think that he wasn't interested, and they wouldn't mention it again. "Alright." 

James jerked. "Really?" 

"Sure," Sirius said with a grin. "It's been a while since I've been on a date. We can muddle through the awkwardness together." 

"When have we ever been awkward around each other?" 

"I'm sure we'd find a way. When do you want to do it?" 

"Er, tomorrow?" 

"Alright. What are we doing?" 

"Dinner?" 

Sirius nodded. 

"Indian?" 

"Sounds great. Do I have to get all dressed up for you?" 

James snorted, the rest of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Not unless you want to." 

If that wasn't an invitation to make himself like handsome as all hell, he didn't know what was. 

[blackaquokat]

mother (make me a song so sweet)

Fandom: WKM

Pairing: Mayor Attorney (Y/N District Attorney/Damien)

Series: Ours to Choose

Summary: In which Damien finally meets a member of the law student’s family.

A/N: Hi, yes, it’s been a million years since I’ve written for this series. I’ve had this one swirling in my head for a while, but only just got the inspiration and energy to write it today. I hope you guys like it, as it has one of my favorite OCs making a reappearance from Satisfied.

And yes, that’s a lyric from a Florence + the Machine song for the title. 

---

At first, Damien decides to give his friend space to reunite with their mother, freshly returned from the front two months after the war was declared over. He figures they would want plenty of time to themselves so their mother can settle back in and get reacquainted with normal life.

This plan lasts exactly three days before his friend calls him in the afternoon and asks why the hell he hasn’t come to visit.

“What?” Damien’s brow furrows as he adjusts his grip on the phone receiver. “But I thought you would want some alone time with your mother?”

“Damien, she’s been with soldiers for years now on the front, she said she wants to meet my friends and any other mildly friendly civilians I might know. So. Come on over. She’s making tea and hot chocolate.”

“Why both?”

“She really missed chocolate and decently-made tea, so she’s having both. I’m just counting my blessings that she didn’t try for chocolate tea.”

“Does such a thing exist?”

“Dear God, I hope not. I’d be doomed to an even worse tea addiction.”

---

Twenty minutes later, Damien knocks on his friend’s door, boxes of Almond Joys, Junior Mints, and Whoppers cradled in his other arm, courtesy of a quick stop at the nearest grocery store.

The door opens and a tall, severe woman who could only be his friend’s mother stands before him. Even if Damien had no knowledge of this person, the resemblance between her and his friend is irrefutable, from their black curls to their nose, even to the shape of their hands.

The most obvious difference is the scar that cuts from the side of her nose to the corner of her lips.

She looks him up and down, and suddenly Damien sees that she has the same kind of eternity in her eyes as her child. “You must be Damien. I’m Ruth.” She holds out her hand and Damien only gets to shake her hand once before she lets go. “Come on in, the tea’s still warm.”

“And the hot chocolate too?”

“Oh, you wanted some of that? It’s long gone.” After Damien shuts the door behind him, Ruth eyes the candy in his arms. “Is all that chocolate for me too?”

“Yes, um, my friend mentioned that you missed chocolate, so I thought I’d bring a Welcome Home gift for you.”

Ruth’s eyes brighten as she accepts Damien’s offerings. “Raindrop! Your friend is here and he brought chocolate offerings.”

“MOM!” Suddenly, there’s the law student coming out of the kitchen with a tray carrying three steaming mugs. “I have been so careful keeping that nickname a secret! You’ve been here less than a week and you expose me!”

Ruth waits until the law student sets the tray on the coffee table before pinching their shoulder. “I’ve got lost time to make up for, Raindrop. That includes using your name and fulfilling my parental obligation to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Damien thinks he might love Ruth already, even with her highly intimidating demeanor. He also decides, for his own safety and self-preservation, not to ask Ruth about the “Raindrop” nickname until the law student is out of earshot. “What kind of tea do I have to choose from?”

“Chamomile or mint.”

Damien selects chamomile and the three of them proceed to sit down, Damien in the armchair, the law student and Ruth on the couch.

Throughout their discussions, Damien finds that Ruth’s similarities are more than surface deep. A similar deadpan sense of humor, the refusal to deal with nonsense, a love for tea (Ruth makes two more cups for herself and one more for he and the law student), etc. 

But Ruth has a haunted look in that ancient gaze of hers that the law student lacks. He imagines this reflects the impact the war left on her. It makes his heart ache.

Before he knows it, their conversations last long into the evening, full of laughter and geniality as they all slowly eat their way through the candy Damien brought. The wrappers rest haphazardly on the coffee table around the empty mugs.

By the time he looks at his watch again, the late hour makes him blink. “I...oh my, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome into tomorrow, or, well, today, I suppose.” He yawns. “I’ll get out of your hair--”

“Nonsense,” Ruth interrupts firmly. “We’re not sending you home at this time of night. You’ll yawn yourself off a bridge.” She gestures to one of the hallways next to the kitchen. “We have a guest room. Feel free to use it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose--”

“If you were imposing, I wouldn’t offer. Stay the night, we’ll all have a nice breakfast together. We have clean clothes you can wear in the morning.”

Damien suddenly sees where the law student gets their blunt way of speaking.

Speaking of the law student, they’ve been watching this interaction with thinly veiled amusement. “Maybe we could all have breakfast at Amy’s Planet tomorrow. They went through some renovations while you were away, and expanded their menu.”

“Oh, I would love some of Amy’s coffee, let’s do that.” 

Ruth gives Damien a pressing look, and he realizes he doesn’t have much of a choice in rejecting this venture. Which he’s absolutely fine with. He can’t remember the last time he’s enjoyed company to this extent, and he’s eager to get to know Ruth better. He had been worried she would not like him, considering the unorthodox way he and the law student became friends.

“In, ah, that case,” he says through another yawn, “I think I’m going to turn in for the night, so I can be plenty coherent at Amy’s tomorrow.”

They all exchange good nights, and as Damien makes his way to the bathroom (where the spare toothbrush he’s claimed on past impromptu sleepovers awaits), he overhears Ruth say to the law student, “Your taste in friends has improved greatly, Raindrop.”

Damien can’t help but smile victoriously at that. Mission accomplished.

---

Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it! If you wish to be (un)tagged, please DM me and let me know!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything  , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog

[nomadmilk]

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 5

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind... Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Rated M/18+.  Sexual tension, maybe? But there IS sexual content. Loki being a little dominating... 

Author’s Note: I hope this one is okay ^-^ I’ve been working ridiculous shifts since the beginning of September, and I’m super tired (I’m sorry!) but I wanted to get this part done... I should get a better detailed summary now that it’s turning into some kind of series, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it... ERM, enjoy! Hope you like it ^-^

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1     Part 2 Part 3     Part 4 Part 5     Part 6 Part 7     Part 8 (First Half)     Part 8.5 (Second Half) Part 9

Lying in bed, you hold the remote in your hand, blinking slowly. Your breathing was content, concentrated, and slow. You could hear the rumble from the sheets, and you felt conscious if anyone heard them too. Loki was merely on the other side of the door but, by the sound of his footsteps fading away, he hadn’t heard a thing.

You had been testing out the sex toys your new job had given you and had easily found a favorite you couldn’t stop using. The vibrations felt stunning, it tended to the right spot, and the orgasms were incredible every time. It was definitely the product you were going to up sell when working at the store.

Unbeknownst to you, the God of Chaos knew exactly what you were doing. It took him a while to figure it out why you had been spending an awful amount of time in your room recently. But after a while, and when you began to be careless of his presence again, the sound of your gasps caught in his ears and he fit the pieces together.

But he was agitated. A little unfocused over things, knowing what you were doing. He’d go to work, teach his lecture, be slightly irritated by the stupidity of some of his students, then leave to his office on campus. His head would be down onto some papers, and he’d take his break with reading something for leisure, but the thought of you would cross his mind.

“Brother?” Thor let himself into his office.

“How-“ Loki shook his head. “What do you want?”

“I have something to tell you that I thought would be of interest-”

“Can’t you tell I’m busy?”

“You’re not.” Thor points to the book in his hand, curious. “That’s a book you’ve been reading since the last time I saw you… Shouldn’t you be finished with that by now? You’re the fastest reader I know.”

“Probably the only medal I’d ever win between the two of us.”

“That’s odd.” Thor sits in front of him. “Don’t think I’d ever hear that statement.”

“What do you mean?”

Thor folds his arms. “You honestly saying something humble, yet in pity. What’s bothering you?”

There’s a pause; Loki was almost shocked at Thor’s interpretation of himself. Most of the time the limelight was on the God of Thunder but, after significant events, recently Loki had been acknowledged as his retrospective equal. But Thor has never been one to exactly pinpoint and regard Loki’s emotions.

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Have you even tried being nice to her?”

“Who?” Loki asks, almost abrasive.

“Maybe it would be a nice surprise if-“

“What did you want to tell me in the first place? Was it about Valkyrie?”

“Oh! Yes!” Thor clapped his hands together. “It was very funny, you see, there was this tree..”

As Loki continued to mildly listen to Thor’s story, he breathed a sigh of relief to himself about the topic change.

Although, maybe he should have chosen a topic he could have actually paid attention to, as his thoughts ran into you again.

The conversation in the home office, and the confrontation in your bedroom, had somewhat changed your attitude towards him. You were able to tolerate his presence more, and you were able to hold eye contact with him without turning beetroot red, which Loki couldn’t admit to himself that he missed… However, now that awkward silences were out of the way, Loki could really see your untamed side, and all its rough edges.

Your burst of confidence to fight back was refreshing, almost invigorating. When you pivot away from him, he loves the way you leave. Sometimes he can see a familiar bright twinkle in your smile…

Loki didn’t understand his reactions, in all honesty. He knew he felt different.

However, both of your lives continued outside the apartment walls and, whilst you were out on your new job, Loki had been burying himself in his work, prepping for an important lecture coming soon. The home office had extended to the living room for the day as Loki had summoned his old battle armor on a mannequin. The students needed to have some visual stimulus, and what other way to aid that than his own genuine piece of armor. Well, they didn’t need to know that the suit was real, but Loki figured it would do the job.

He even called Thor to see if he could borrow his, and hopefully this would be enough to get the students memorizing a few things on ancient history. And, after being skeptic about his brother’s request on the phone, Thor decided to visit his brother donning his battle suit.

“You idiot.” Loki massages his forehead. “I said to just take the armor with you, not wear it. You must have looked like a lunatic.”

Thor shrugs. “No, not really. The humans seemed to recognize me a lot faster.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You don’t have a spare change of clothes either?”

“Why would I need that?”

The Prince let out an exasperated sigh.

Thor walked over to a cupboard, easily locating his personal box of PopTarts, and began munching on one. “Hmm… So, what is all this?”

As the mannequin of Loki’s armor stood in the middle of the room, the dining table was covered with open books and a few papers, some written by historians and some mythologists, splayed out across the surface and sitting on chairs. Thor saunters over to scan over the novels, picking one up and skim reading it; all the books were open to Midgard’s take on ancient Norse tales.

Thor raises an eyebrow to his brother. “Some of this is wrong.”

“I know.” Loki folds his arms.

Placing the book down, Thor points his PopTart at him. “But you’re feeling content, aren’t you? You seem very invested in this.“

“If you’re suspicious in me meddling with mortal minds again-“

“Oh, Loki,” Thor laughs, a beam on his lips, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you do anything troublesome, so something must be keeping you occupied. But I don’t think it’s this Midgard work at all.”

The God of Mischief glowers. “What do you want now?”

“To invite you.” Thor says, his mouth opening up to his fifth PopTart. “Stark has another party happening in his tower. He would like for you to come.”

Loki only needed a second of recollection Stark drunk. And he didn’t need another experience of that. “No.”

Thor wasn’t surprised by his answer. Although before he could speak and reason with his brother, the sound of the front door causes them to turn around.

You stumble a little as you see the two of them, and then frown at the state of papers and books everywhere. “Hello?”

Thor greets you first. “Are you in the mood for some festivities?”

“Uh.” You blink. “What kind of festivities?”

As Thor explains the details, Loki watches. He places his hands in his pockets, noticing your face and the way it scrunches in your usual confused expression. He’s not really listening to Thor’s persuasion, as it was quite endearing to watch your façade change into an ever-growing beam.

Soon enough, you departed the room with a hug from Thor, not batting an eye to Loki.

Thor grinned at Loki triumphantly; Loki glared at him from across the room.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Loki catches his brother halfway through the door.

Thor looks Loki up then down, stopping in the midst of shutting the front door. “Do you?”

With Thor disappearing, Loki closes his eyes for one last sigh.

As the first few minutes began to pass into the evening, Loki could see you panicking a little. The clock ticked by, you were popping in and out of the bathroom with a change of hairstyle every time. As the sun began to set, you had settled on your hair but was now trying on every dress that Loki had not seen you wear before; floral dresses, red dresses, black dresses that had trousers instead of skirts…

It was less than ten minutes till Thor’s arrival. Loki left his bedroom, pulling on a blazer and completing his ensemble; he thought it best to go with his black and white suit. The state of the living room reverted back to normal as he used his Siedr to clean all of the essays and anthologies back into his office. However, he had left his battle armour still in its place in the centre of the room.

He liked having it there.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you got back home; Loki had thought it impossible to speak to you or make any remarks.

Which was odd because it wasn’t like him to not make any.

You step into the living room from the hallway in a dress that catches his eye; a velvet, deep green dress. It was simple yet stunning, and beautifully accentuated you. Your eyes seemed to flutter, and every step you took made him stare longer.

You fumble with some high-heel shoes that are in the living room, crouching down and checking them all and muttering disapproval to all of them. With your back towards him, you still don’t seem to address his existence, but he still couldn’t stop staring at you, especially when you bend over and your dress exquisitely carved-

“Can’t find anything in this..” He hears you mutter angrily.

At an observed inspection, he sees the zip of the dress on your spine not done up properly. “Y/N, your zip.”

You don’t even hesitate as you stop your mumbles and straighten, failing to feel the zip on your spine. “What?“

The sounding clips of his shoes stilled you as his body approached behind yours. He places his palm on your spine, steadying you, slightly fascinated about how his palms almost covered the smallness of your back. His hand brushes slightly, a cover only to feel the fabric against you and to feel the curves your body naturally forms.

The zip closes up to the top, and Loki could feel his sense of control loosen. He hears you say a minor thank you for his help but, as you turn his face was close to yours, it passes by him. Your perfume had an alluring scent, your eyes were dewy and sparkling, and Loki had never been so enticed with anyone’s lips until it fell on yours.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” You say, your voice slightly cracks. He finds it adorable.

“You don’t seem like yourself either.” He replies, a tenure lower than usual, he observes.

He sees you gulp. “Nerves. I guess.”

You look up at him with your cheeks rouge to a pink tone. You speak of nerves, but all Loki saw was pure beauty.

“You’re gonna’ wear that?” You question. “Don’t you usually wear some kind of waistcoat, or tie, with your suits?”

Loki almost laughed; how odd of you to mention. He didn’t even think you noticed the way he appeared that much.

He breathes. “Thought it would be good for a change.”

He steps forward, your back hits the wall and his lips meet yours.

Kissing you was like drinking the first fruits of Asgardian wine, and Loki was getting drunk and delirious with it. Tasting you was dangerously addictive, and the sighs you elicited made his primal urges clearer. Loki had doubts in his move. However, when he felt your arms pull him further into you, all of it had eradicated instantly.

He props you up against the wall, separating from your lips for a moment to get a grip of your thighs. His hands brush higher. He feels the rough yet smooth netting of your stockings, your legs opening to him, as he shoves the skirt of your dress up so that it doesn’t restrict him from getting his hips closer to yours. The sounds of your winces were sent to the growing erection in his trousers and-

“Loki…” -By the gods, he wanted to hear more of you.

Loki never predicted how good this would feel, how good you could feel against him. He grunts at the softness of your skin. Your lips were wet and supple, and he could feel your luscious moans escape between kisses. They were turning almost sore from the amount of biting and licking Loki had been doing. But he couldn’t help it.

With his body feeling warm and his mind explicit, he grips you tighter and tighter, possessive over your body and every sensation you could give him, your core radiating an amorous heat he couldn’t help but press himself against.

He needed you, to be buried inside you, to feel those tight walls ache and cum around his-

“Lady Y/N!” Thor knocks on the front door, calling out to you. “Are you ready?”

You both stop, eyes meeting in stunned silence, and chests rising and falling rapidly.

Although his breathing was rattled, Loki’s eyes were steel. “If you answer my brother… I will make you regret it.”

[sledclock17]

Exactly How To Dry Carpet After Cleansing.

20 Finest Cleaning Products, According To Specialist Cleansers

Content

Armstrong 330408 When 'N Done Concentrated Flooring Cleaner, 1.

See Some Photos Of Our Client'S Floors Prior To And Also After Our Professional Cleaning Process.

Unger Easyglide Soft Rubber.

Take Pleasure In Cleanser, Healthier, Protected Carpets With Our Business Carpet Cleaning Service.

Karcher Carpet Cleansers.

Review Of Bissell Big Eco-Friendly Deep Cleansing Maker.

Get rid of discolorations swiftly using spot stain eliminator or a carpeting cleaner accessory. Avoid leaving discolorations to settle in the carpeting since you think you can remove them later when you do your scheduled carpet cleaning. The discolorations will be more difficult to eliminate and also might remain in the carpet. The cleaning option that includes your carpeting cleaner is made to combine with water and clean your carpeting thoroughly without damaging it. The majority of carpets are pre-treated, yet you still require to clean them routinely with water and cleansing products to eradicate dirt and also dirt.

For sticky, oily discolorations like electric motor oil, food grease or lipstick, usage Hi-Traffic Pre-Treatment. Discolorations from food, ink, dust and unknown substances react well to Spot & Discoloration Eliminator.

Armstrong 330408 When 'N Done Concentrated Floor Cleaner, 1.

A top-notch rug heavy steam cleaner can get rid of around 97 percent of your rug. Even better, it reaches to the pile or lowest layer of the carpet, cleaning it completely. One have to likewise keep in mind that carpet cleaner leasings don't come with free cleaning services, so renters might require to buy the option each time. On the various other hand, rug cleansers are a single financial investment as well as one can get the carpeting hair shampoo by the bulk so in the long run, it's more affordable.

How can I clean my carpet without a machine?

Create a solution of one part distilled vinegar and three parts cold water. Spray it onto your carpet fairly liberally, and allow it a few minutes of contact time. Then take a microfibre cloth, and start gently blotting. Don't scrub, otherwise you could damage your carpet.

They did an excellent task, and also I'll be using them in future. Undergo this broad selection of brand-new, used, as well as manufacturer as well as seller reconditioned rug cleaners as well as youll discover a variety of popular brands available like Vax, BISSELL and also Kärcher. Typical alternatives include 4 in 1 multi practical wet and also dry vacuum cleaners, carpet washers and blowers and also pet formula cleaners. Theres a substantial series of carpet cleaners readily available on ebay.com appropriate for residences, autos, furniture and also also expert cleaning company such as auto valeting. Fill the reservoir of your Carpet Physician with hot water.

Do carpets get dirty faster after cleaning?

To save time, some carpet cleaners put the detergent into the cleaning solution being used. https://www.refin-ceramic-tiles.com/read-the-faq/what-is-the-best-way-to-clean-your-ceramic-tile-floors/ leaves a lot of the detergent on the carpet after the cleaning has been done. As a result, the carpet is sticky and attracts dust and other particles allowing the carpet to become dirty quickly after cleaning.

When dealing with pet dogs I can extremely suggest the BISSELL ProHeat 2X if you manage hard animal discolorations. With numerous pet attachments and features this cleaner receives the most effective pet dog carpeting cleaner now. The Hoover Powerdash Family pet is a great alternative if you desire an economical yet great carpet cleaning device. The drying out time differs, relying on the sort of rug you have and its thickness. Some rug cleaners aid with the drying procedure, while others take in dust.

Is steam cleaning bad for carpets?

The reality is that steam cleaning leaves your carpets sopping wet, which can damage your carpet over time. If not properly dried, sopping wet carpet fibers can ultimately lead to mold and mildew growth—something you don't want affecting your indoor air quality.

Extremely dirtied places ought to be pre-soaked and also the cleaning agent solution should saturate for 5 to 10 mins. The more delicate the surface the reduced the cleaning service focus must be. As a landlord, I have to have my home expertly cleansed between renters, as well as not satisfied with my previous carpet cleaners, I found Tidy That Carpeting. They lost no time at all in getting down to function, and also soon the carpets were pristine throughout.

The solution from beginning to end was extremely specialist however likewise kind and mindful to my requirements.

I had a water leakage that came via the ceiling and the refurbishment created dust all over and corrosion damage to a carpet I actually value.

I'm very amazed with The Carpet Cleaning Business.

I would most absolutely recommend this firm very.

Barry did a terrific job the other day on my 2 seater sofa and also carpetings.

For your rug, upholstery, patio, conservatory or home window cleansing look no further.

I had my 3 item suite cleansed also, the results were excellent, particularly the rug, which is of terrific nostalgic value to me.

See Some Pictures Of Our Customer'S Floors Before As Well As After Our Professional Cleaning Refine.

Tactically area box fans in the space after you've cleaned up the carpeting to assist the rug completely dry quicker. Many rugs will dry out completely after a few hrs after you have actually cleaned them. Bissell rules the carpet cleaning and vacuum markets, together with Hoover.

As well as, it is an excellent as well as flexible multi-purpose house cleanser too. Fortunately, there are a lot of top carpeting heavy steam cleaners that can give deep and competent carpet cleaning.

A number of them have a split container or more containers to keep the filthy water from infecting the clean water. A great deal of storage tanks also have actually a specially made spout to prevent spills when you put the water.

Nevertheless, you should take into consideration making use of professional cleansing options designed to deal with commercial carpet cleansers for finest results. Keep in mind that Walmart does not lease typical vacuum cleaners. You can, nonetheless, also rent out carpet cleansers from other shops; see our related articles for the expense to lease a carpet cleaner at each shop and the very best rental carpet cleaning equipment. We likewise detail how to rent Carpet Physician rug cleansers from the majority of Albertsons grocery storesor Safeway grocery stores. While hoover can work wonders, a rug cleaner will certainly obtain the persistent discolorations and dirt out of your carpets when they need an extensive tidy.

Unger Easyglide Soft Rubber.

There are also some models that actually mix the cleaning agent, so you obtain the best water-to-formula ratio each time. These rug cleansers are additionally substantial and also big, so you have to have a vehicle that allows enough to move the device to and fro to the store. Plus, you can't quickly attend to spots before they embed in like you can when you have a carpet cleaner. For all the problem you have to go through, you only get to rent the cleaner for a day or two.

Vapor Device services do a disservice to specialist carpet cleaners. The tools utilized is typically are not of expert top quality and also typically has been mistreated, used and dirty. The product made use of in the devices are dust attracters and also usually cleaning agent and also soap based. Rental companies recommend that you use a specific kind of cleaning solution with their vapor cleaners. For instance, a business might make one sort of cleaner for furniture and one more one with a more powerful concentration for rugs.

Do it yourself carpet cleaning is a simple and also budget friendly task for homes of all budget plans and also skill levels. Whether learn more by visiting this page clean up areas & stains or periodically clean all the carpetings in your home, possessing a carpet cleanser has guaranteed advantages.

Besides, it is just one of the closest things that specialist house and also carpet heavy steam cleansers use. As well as, it is suitable for individuals who cleanse their indoor area usually and have a great deal of area to cover.

I am 75 cleaned every type of carpet on the marketplace over the years, with my own services. Now have this lovely carpet cleaning maker of my own and the days of scrub brush as well as container more than. Have my own dish, it works, my rug are tidy, fresh, spots remain gone and also the carpet does not have any kind of film left on it from any type of item.

Everybody's always seeking good carpeting cleaners, however exist solutions that will do steam cleansing of hardwood or laminate floor covering? I've never seen any kind of businesses similar to this in my location ... they all simply do carpeting and also upholstery. We 'd suggest the exact same testing for any new solutions as in the previous answer. A lot of carpeting cleansers function vigorously to eliminate spots. Vacuum your carpeting one or two times a week, depending on just how much website traffic it receives.

Take Pleasure In Cleanser, Healthier, Protected Carpets With Our Industrial Carpet Cleaning Service.

Pick a time to cleanse the carpeting when it can be left untouched later on for hours. Constantly vacuum the rug thoroughly prior to utilizing the carpet cleaner. Warm water up to an optimum of 50 levels Celsius will increase the cleaning effect.

Karcher Carpeting Cleansers.

Amazing as well as it just cost me about $5.00 for the 3 room house as well as my time. Sorry but I can not say anything regarding your web page yet you are pressing your services.

The cleansing service will spray right into the carpeting, and afterwards suck back up again into the dirty water tank. Though some spots are almost difficult to get rid of completely, pretreating helps to boost even the dirtiest carpeting. Rug Medical professional suggests utilizing their products to pretreat spots.

The maker suggests adding 1/2 cup of Carpet Medical professional Carpet Cleaner to the water for the dirtiest rugs, or 1/4 mug of Carpeting Cleaner if your carpets are only gently dirtied. Turn the equipment on, and also start gradually walking backwards across the carpet, pulling the Carpet Medical professional from one side of the room to the other. On gently dirtied Floor Wizards , the maker suggests relocating at a speed of one foot per second, but very filthy carpetings need a slower speed of one foot every 2 seconds.

If you are seeking an exceptional heavy steam device that cleans up targeted dust as well as discolorations successfully, opt for the McCulloch MC1275. With its efficient spot cleaning proficiency and power, you will no doubt love this leading rug steam cleanser.

According to the Bissell internet site, the business offers upright, mobile, and cylinder carpet cleaners. Bissell additionally offers substitute parts, accessories for all their existing machines, and also some older versions. You'll find anything for your carpet cleaning needs from Bissell. While some people do make use of homemade cleaning services for specialist rug cleaners, there is no warranty of excellent outcomes with DIY recipes. Rug Doctor does not require tenants of its devices to utilize its cleansing option items, so you are complimentary to utilize various other items.

Why does carpet smell worse after cleaning?

The leading cause for a bad-smelling carpet after cleaning is that the carpet backing absorbed some of the moisture in the process and is still wet. If not dried properly, the underlying material becomes susceptible to mildew problems, which can cause the musty smell.

Testimonial Of Bissell Big Eco-Friendly Deep Cleaning Machine.

Treat family pet crashes as well as various other physical liquid stains with Urine Eliminator. Spray the suitable treatment onto your carpeting's filthy spots, and also allow the formula take in for numerous mins while you ready the Carpet Doctor machine for cleansing. Residential carpet cleansers are less complicated than ever before to make use of.

[weareallfallengods]

LOTR Post-apocalyptic one shot

When Middle Earth gets to like- the idk, sixth or seventh age? would it be more of a futuristic setting but like with hobbits in space suits and dwarfs crafting radioactive machines and stuff.

(Shhhhh.... i know that like the elves disappear and man becomes really the only one that stays after awhile but I WANT A FANTASY FALLOUT SETTING!

From @pippinstook

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

The Endless Winter was the Elves' fault.

Like all the Great Calamities of Middle-Earth, the best and worst times were ushered in by Elves.

And they wonder why we hate them.

We Dwarves remember the Silmarils War. We stayed out of the War of Sauron's Return because the Elves created that mess to begin with, and it was theirs to clean up. We saw the Halflings get roped into it, and there were some who argued we should go to their aid, remembrance of a debt owed by our people to them. But there were only 4 of them, so we remained apart.

And so, when the Burning Wind, a storm of flame like a hundred score dragons scorching the land and sky came, we stayed underground. We saw it sweep in from the East, and we knew that once again, the Elves had doomed us all.

We stayed underground, our trading partners gone, our surface holdings buried under a white ash that burned and blinded as it rained from the sky. We delved deeper, broader, sealed all but a few entrances to the surface behind gold and lead. Entire boulevards bricked up in stacks of now useless gold.

They thought we were ostentatious with our wealth before. If they could only see us now. Admittedly, we flaunted our wealth in the 4th Age- and why wouldnt we? We worked and slaved and toiled for generations of men to build it. Of course we were going to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

Our grandfathers survived once the King discovered that only he, in his gold-covered armors, remained sunburnt by the Elven Ash. The King ordered the gates sealed, the treasury turned over to the armored and craftsmen as gold suddenly became not a luxury, but something necessary to protect our people from the folly of the Elves. 

Our people still got ill, still died long before their time. Some had strange growths, babies were born with extra limbs, or none at all. Mothers wept at not being able to feed their newborns, and fathers felt tears dampen their beards as they carved tomb after tomb for children that should have been the ones to carve theirs instead.

But we survived.

We learned to cover every bit of clothing, every scrap of leather and cloth in gold. Every chamber, every street, every cavern lined in it. No longer was lead cast aside as nothing more than a tinker's tool. Now every drop of it was precious, beaten flat and covered in gold, used to line the halls of our kingdoms.

So my great-grandfather told my father, as he told me. As I will tell my sons and daughters, so they never forget.

It's truly amazing what we Dwarves will create when left to our own devices. Every hundred years or so, the King will send a group of volunteers to the surface, to see if the Endless Winter showed any signs of abating, if the burning ash burns less.

As the centuries passed, little changed on the surface. But there were many who grew tired of our isolation, and longed for the fresh wind and the companionship of our brothers in other kingdoms.

Rather than repress them, our king, in his wisdom, appointed those who still longed for the outside world to create ways to survive in the hellish land the Elves had rained down upon us.

And so our skills increased, our machines becoming ever more complex as our Creatives strive to find ways to lessen the impact of the Winter, and make our lives more comfortable and productive.

We discovered the expansive properties of steam, we harnessed the fires of the earth itself to warm our homes, and light our streets. We created artificial sun and starlight, not with the magic of the Elves, or the primitive tallow fires of men, but with ingenuity and clever machines. Balls of glass that glowed like the sun, and drops of sapphire that shone like stars.

We created lightning, and stored it in jars. We built the power of the ancient gods ourselves. Columns that shone bright to light the day, and tiny blue stars of light in the carven ceilings to make the night less black. We took those jars, and fashioned gears and wheels and wire to drive our mining carts and lifts. We created hammers driven by the heat of the earth and the explosive power of water. We made glass, coated in gold so fine you could see through it, and for the first time in a generation, had windows to bring sun and moonlight down to the kingdom. What little there was. 

We made great mirrors, and reflected that light to our farms, and homes. The Creatives made giant mirrors and lenses, and used them to see great distances from the Sightglass they built on the top of our mountain. The first time they were able to look through it, and see for hundreds of leagues was looked forward too with such anticipation! And met with such bitter disappointment. For as far as the eye could see, even with the Sightglass, there was nothing but more of the burning ash blanketing the world.

So we stayed below, as we have always done. And another generation passed.

And the Creatives made another leap forward. They created glass that could be layered with transparent gold, and made helmets and armor and boots and gloves that were finally able to withstand the burning of the Winter on the surface. They created carts, driven by the heat of rocks they found on the surface, that when enclosed properly, and cooled with water, powered those carts, and enabled us to finally start exploring the surface again.

And so we finally emerged after all this time. Dwarves, covered in gold, driving carts that glowed and shone like the sun that could no longer be seen. Dwarves, with golden gears clicking about them, steam rising from their shoulders as the armor made by the Creatives did it's work of making the air breathable, and keeping out the ash and dust. Dwarves with golden-hued glass helms, leaving virgin footprints in the ashen plains around the mountain. 

Dwarves, had finally managed to reclaim the earth.

And we explored. We searched for any sign that other life had returned to the surface. We traveled long and far, always finding nothing more than half-buried ruins of ancient civilizations; giant statues and crumbling walls, trees turned to stone, rivers nothing more than vast trenches filled with powdery ash that we sank in as if it was actually water, long petrified bones serving as the only memorial to those who once filled the cities of men.

More and more of us migrated to the surface, our new Technics affording us the same protections of our ancient caverns. We started to realize as a people that our love of caves stemmed primarily from a desire to be left alone as a people, a way to avoid being interfered with. And now that the surface was empty, there was nothing dissuading us from enjoying it.

And then the world as we had come to know it changed.

Reports from the Foragers came back that they had found a place untouched by the Endless Winter. A place where green still existed.

No one believed them at first, but then the silverplate images started coming back. Plates that showed trees. Rivers that held water. A deer. Things no one alive had ever seen with their own eyes. And most still didn't believe.

Until one day, the Foragers brought back an oak tree. A sapling, green and lithe, rooted in black earth, set in a pit of solid gold, a dome of golden glass shielding it from the ash.

Not long after that monumental revelation, our entire town mobilized. Great carts with wheels of chain to move entire houses were built. Flexible bridges covered in golden glass wove between them, domes of gold creating a sea of glittering bubbles that floated across the plains as an entire Dwarven city slowly crept across the fields and hills of ash.

Ten years it took for our city to make it to the eastern mountains. Ten years of waiting impatiently to see what the Foragers had been promising us.

And then we finally saw it with our own eyes. We saw the ash fade into brown grass and weeds, and those give way gradually to actual grasses, and bushes, and finally, a single tree at the top of the ridge.

But what we saw from that ridge left even our most effusive poets speechless.

Green. Nothing but green as far as we could see. An emerald jewel of a vale set apart from the ashen wasteland behind us. And birds. A young one claimed they spotted a deer. The sound of a small stream twinkled through the air like a long forgotten melody of hope. A single, thin spire hung in the air, and only the Eldest was able to remember what it was called or what it meant.

Smoke! Specifically, chimney smoke. It rose from the forest like a beacon, a sign that we may not be the only ones to have survived.

As we were debating the best way to approach whomever may be there, we were all shocked to the bone to hear a small voice right behind our Elder.

"'Ere! Wotcha 'bout then? Not from 'round 'here, are yous?"

Of all those who could have survived, of course it had to be the Hobbits.

===================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen @khelladon @walkin-in-the-cosmos

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command. 

[fancifulwritings]

The Song Remains The Same

Chapter Fifteen

     The question as a mere formality. They both knew that. Calypso couldn't say no to him. Not like she wanted to, anyways. Where would she go? Upstairs to his room, in his house, alone? Or just stand and watch him? Neither option seemed even somewhat polite.

     Saying no hadn't really crossed her mind. She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. Alone time seemed like it would be few and far in between.

     The cleaning they did was relatively surface level. Robert wasn't going to try and tackle the mess himself. All six of them had made the mess. All six of them would have to clean it in the morning. Everyone would be doing their fair share; he'd make sure of it.

     The two of them did clean a few plates. Granted, they were the ones that already looked clean, but it would help. Food was removed from their pots and plates and put into the fridge. Whatever hadn't been eaten yet could be their lunch tomorrow. Robert didn't have enough food to supply a whole new meal.

     This went on for a few minutes, until Robert wiped his hands on a towel. "Looks good enough for me, for now at least. How about you darlin'?" He asked with a smirk. Calypso felt a small shiver go up her spine.

     "I'm hardly one to order you around your own house," she said.

     "That's what I was hoping for." As he spoke, he picked her up and placed her back onto the counter. Without hesitation, her arms and legs wrapped around his neck and waist.

     It felt like she was in a dream. This whole situation was already so easy for her. Calypso couldn't believe it. A domestic life with Robert Plant hadn't ever occurred to her as possible, it shouldn't be. Now it was all she could think about. It was sickening how it consumed her. Nothing seemed to be holding her back; and that was what seemed to be the most terrifying.

     "Hmm, such a pretty little vixen," he said. She laughed as he did before she silenced him with a kiss. A direct move, something that was rare from her. She often lacked the courage. But now she hadn't felt like waiting for him. Everyone else had fully disappeared from her mind.

     Robert wasted no time in taking control. She might have started things, but Robert rarely left the ball in anyone else's court. It seemed impossible to him.

     His hand went to the back of her head so he could move her where he wanted her. Calypso put up no fight to this. Why would she? With the new body, Calypso could only imagine the wicked things he had in store for her. She was excited. Never was she more thankful for their first couple days together.

     Before all this, he had been hard to handle. Calypso felt like she had always been a bit behind. Now she was sure to be left in the distance. The ease between the two would help. It would mean that she at least wouldn't be left in the dust.

     The wild ride she had unknowingly signed up for was accelerating. Robert tugged on her hair, meaning she couldn't focus on that. Effectively, he had tugged her back into the real world. It was hard to believe that this was her real world now. Calypso just sighed into the kiss and moved with him. Undeniably, he demanded more as he pressed closer to her. She was more than happy to relent.

     For some time, they stayed like that, only lips and hands moving between them. For them, time had simply ceased to be. What rush did they have?

     It wasn't until Robert's hands were snaked into Calypso's pants that they were drawn out of the daze. She pulled back. It wasn't an objection to the action itself. God, it felt like a natural procession.

All she wanted to feel was him between her legs, inside her. She was already wet, that much she could tell. A few more seconds and she would be begging for him.

"They're still here!" She hissed gently. One of their guests, in their far off room, had coughed. It was a gentle reminder that they weren't alone. They couldn't just fuck in the kitchen like animals.

"Are you saying you'd like to stop?" He cocked his eyebrow up as his finger traced her up and down through her panties. A soft moan escaped Calypso's lips. She couldn't help herself, as she managed to hold back so much more.

"Not here!" She barely managed to stammer out, face flushed red. The things this man could do to her… She'd be lucky to survive tonight, forget the week.

"Such a shame," he chuckled. His finger was unrelenting. "I would have taken you right here, right now," he said. "Mostly because I can," he whispered into her ear. She could only blush more and swat at his chest.

It seemed as if he already had his next move planned. He wasted no time in acting on it, in such a calculated way. Calypso almost felt like it was a play in his head. She would hardly object to him playing director a bit.

Robert picked her up, quickly, and hooked his arms under her ass to keep her pressed close to him, and walked straight up to his room.

"Showing off today?" She asked in between his endless stream of kisses.

"Only for you, just for you," he said with a wink. He placed her down gently on the bed, right in the center. Then, with a turn on his heels, he went to put a record on. Calypso barely noticed what he was doing. She only noticed he was gone as she spread her legs.

Whatever he threw on hardly mattered. Robert had mumbled what it was. Both of them hard more pressing matters at hand. He, especially, had his mind focused on so many other things.

It was a slow walk back to the bed. It felt almost like a show as he stripped off his clothing. Nothing could have ever made her wetter. Calypso couldn't help but gasp once he was fully naked.

The view in front of her was one of a God. She felt truly blessed to be able to see him like this. Calypso hadn't realized her good luck this morning.

The morning had been rushed, unlike now. They had been preoccupied with other thoughts. It had all been one been distraction. They had needed to work quickly. Now was a different beast. It felt like the world had stopped. There was no need to rush, tomorrow wasn't coming that quickly.

Any anxiety they might had felt, that she might had held, seemed to have simply melted away. Not to say that all the anxiety was gone forever. This feeling of ease was a talent of Robert's, she was realizing. No matter how bad anything had gotten, he had seemed as if he could just push it aside. Leave it behind, if just for a moment.

"You look more surprised now than you did this morning," he said with a chuckle. He crawled up the bed, and up her body. He hovered just above her.

"You would be too," she mumbled. Who wouldn't be surprised by all this? As she leaned up to kiss him, he began to pull her pants down.

"Babe, I swear, I'm never letting you leave this bed again if I get the choice," he whispered in her ear. She gasped and rolled her hips up against him. "My little Greek goddess," he said as he pulled off her shirt.

"Calypso was a muse," she mumbled. That, at first, seemed to only draw a grin from Robert.

He leaned into her, his lips barely an inch away from hers. "A muse, perhaps even more fitting," he said before kissing her. His fingers gently pushed up on her chin, forcing her to stay where he wanted.

His kisses quickly moved from her lips to her neck, eventually all the way down her body. Robert didn't stop until he spread her thighs apart.

"Now, would my muse mind? I believe I need a bit of inspiration," he said. He ran his finger down her slit as he looked up at her with a smirk.

Words were lost to Calypso. The sight between her legs, the feelings erupting from between her legs, were too much. Her brain and mouth were at a complete disconnect, and Robert knew this. Robert could see this. All she could manage was running her hands though his hair and smiling. Hopefully, he would take this as his yes.

Not that he would. She doubted things were ever easy right off the bat with him. It certainly seemed that way. He placed more kisses on the insides of her thighs. Clearly, he was teasing her. She knew this and just groaned. She squirmed in an attempt to get what she wanted.

He wouldn't give, though. "My dearest Muse, I am afraid I have to hear your beautiful voice to find my inspiration," he said. Robert looked up at her, both their eyes wild with lust.

"Who am I to refuse my Golden God?" She said after a few seconds. She wasn't sure where it came from, but she was grateful for it.

Robert, in return, only smirked. All at once, he was where she needed him most, licking and sucking expertly at her folds. Calypso's head rolled back against the pillow and her fingers grasped at his hair. Their teasing all throughout the evening had finally caught up to her.

She forced her hips up further into his face and wrapped her legs around his shoulders. It was the only way she could think to trap him there. Leaving her now might just kill her, she figured.

Just as she got to the edge, where she so desperately wanted to be, he pulled back. Calypso's hips canted up in an attempt to follow him, to follow her own pleasure. She just whined and looked down at him.

"What my dear?" He asked with a bit of a tut. Calypso didn't like this already. Now he had the stamina to keep up with her. More importantly, he had the stamina to keep up with his thoughts. That could be dangerous. She was at his mercy. Mercy of which she was sure no longer existed for her.

"Robert!" She whined as she arched her hips up a bit more.

"I can't read your mind, Calypso, babe," he said with a wink. "What is it that you want? You've just gotta ask." A wicked grin was painted across his face.

Her response, yet again, was to roll her hips. Maybe, she thought, just this time he would get the message? Or at least listen to it. Nothing could have prepared her for this. She needed him. He knew that, and yet she wasn't getting it. It was torturous.

"I want you," she finally mumbled. It was obvious that she wasn't getting anywhere without talking. The rules were to be made by him. She just had to play along.

"Is that so?" He said with a grin. Robert tossed his head his hair to the side as he moved to rest on his forearm. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Internally, Calypso could only groan. Once again, she arched her hips up to him. No fair, she had played by his rules. Now he had to give her what she wanted. At least, that's what she thought. Robert grinned as he slipped a finger inside her.

Calypso hadn't been entirely prepared for him to move so fast. She gasped and began to grind against his finger.

Robert chuckled as he began to pump his finger in and out of her. Her hips stalled, unable to keep up with the pace he was setting already. He slipped in a second finger, and then a third not long after.

Calypso, completely and truly, was lost for words. Thoughts were gone from her brain. Her head was rolled back as she let out moan after moan. All she thought about was cuming. It was all she wanted. She was so close; she could practically taste it.

Just as the ledge was about to slip out from under her, Robert stopped. She whined again, frustration building in her body. What the fuck was he up to now?

Robert kissed his way, slowly, back up her body. "As much as I'd love to watch you squirm and beg all night," he pressed a kiss to her lips, "I'm dying for you, babe."

This time, she didn't think Robert was asking for words. If he was, he'd be shit out of luck. Calypso spread her legs for him. Robert wasn't looking for words. Wasn't looking for anything more past that. He moved and she wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him this time.

Robert guided himself in. There wasn't a single intention of stopping anywhere in his body. He bottomed out after a couple seconds, clearly teasing both himself and her one last time. She grasped and reached to pull his face closer to her.

For the first few thrusts, and the matching kisses, it was gentle and slow. Neither of them wanted that. They both knew what they needed. He began to pound into her, hard and fast, Calypso unable to do anything but moan in his ear. Their guests were now long forgotten to her.

It was just a few minutes more before they both finished. Robert fell over his own edge just seconds before Calypso. If she could talk, she would have called him greedy.

For some time, they just laid like that, Robert on top of Calypso, still inside her. None of this really made sense to her. Her brain was having a hard time processing and accepting the events of the last few hours. She was hardly complaining.

Once he came to, Robert began to press gentle kisses all over her face before rolling off, and out, of her. Calypso just giggled. "Suppose you get the real 70s experience now, magic included," he said.

Calypso could only roll her eyes and laugh. Her hand came up to play gently with his hair. "I certainly didn't expect all this when you offered," she said.

"Neither did I," he said with a chuckle. It was a little bittersweet, she supposed. "I should be used to this sort of thing by now," he said. She could only bring herself to laugh a little. What exactly had they gotten up to back in the day? Calypso hardly doubted anything could make a logical jump to this nonsense.

"I can't ever imagine getting used to this kind of life," she said. It had broken a few moments of silence. The words themselves surprised her. They seemed to just erupt from her body, as if they broke off from some part of her subconscious.

"You should, if you plan to stay," Robert said after a moment. His voice was soft. Perhaps he was just as shocked about the words as she was. It was hard to say. She felt so unsure of what he meant.

Before Calypso could say anything, Robert beat her to it. "We don't have to talk about it now, or ever, if you don't want to have anything explicit," he mumbled.

"I know this isn't what you expected. No one could have warned you, or even thought of this," he said. "I had to press for a week, after all," he chuckled.

She opened her mouth to speak, to fight him on that point. But he silenced her by placing his finger to her lips. "Not tonight, tonight is to settle and get adjusted. Float for a bit, if you will," he placed a kiss to her lips. "Stay, don't give me a time. Never give me a limit. Just stay, for as long as you'd like, a permanent guest, if you will."

Tears watered a little in her eyes. It'd been so long since she had heard someone to ask her to stay. She couldn't refuse his request. Not that she ever would, this was her miracle.

Here Robert was, offering her essentially eternity. There was no way to refuse that! This was the stuff of her wildest dreams. Calypso couldn't turn him down, never would turn him down. The last thing she wanted to do was tie him down. What if he bored of her? What if life changed for them?

"Just say yes," he mumbled once again. He could see the uncertainty in Calypso's eyes. It was clear she was stuck between her own thoughts. Robert wished to bring her out from that.

"Yes," she mumbled as she looked up at him. Robert pulled her close, not saying another word after that. There was none left to exchange. Anything else they could say on the subject would work against his rules. They weren't too worry about anything tonight. Calypso wouldn't bring anything up until he did.

As they laid there, in each other's embrace, Calypso felt sleep begin to creep up on her. Her body was tired. The day had been long, both emotionally and physically. She closed her eyes, ready to slip into a peaceful night.

Just as she was almost to the point of no return, she felt Robert shift against her. He was rock hard already. It wasn't hard to notice, as he began to gently rock himself against her body.

"Already?" She teased before wiping any sleep from her eyes. He just laughed and covered her body with his.

"Always."

[ms31x129]

Time for Chapter 5! Posting a little early & I had to make a another DJ! I felt compelled! I hope I have ideas for 2 more! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 5: Truth Is the Pain Inside Our Hearts (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

Grab your Kleenex, because the forecast calls for angst with a few passing heartfelt admissions.

Jackson has left the bar and returned to the motel where his mind dares to tread back into the memories of Dana Scully at one of the most vulnerable times of her and Fox Mulder's life.}

“The greatest sacrifice is when you sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of someone else.” -Unknown

Jackson found himself stumbling back into his motel room what seemed like hours later. With his head already pounding, he peeled his soaked jeans off and nearly lost his balance as he tripped his way into the bathroom. His stomach tumbled with the jolt and he quickly felt around for the location of the toilet bowl in case he lost the rest of his liquor.

Jackson winced. “Ugh, shit!” Flicking on the lights was a bad idea. He groaned as he turned the shower on and watched the steam billow up around him. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until small droplets of hot tears crept down the swell of his cheeks. His veil of stoicism had finally fallen and everything he’d been holding back rushed to the surface.

The fact that he’d just scared the living hell out of several people in a bar—including a little kid—was not lost to him. In fact, for the first time in a long time, Jackson felt found.

He swiped away his tears of relief and realized that weight of resentment and anger had lifted. He’d been dealt a complicated hand in life, yes, but he had recently come to understand that his birth mother and adoptive parents had stacked the deck for him; not against. All he had to do was lay down his cards and play his final hand—to finish the journey he’d started when he ran away from the last two people who cared about him.

He stripped the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pour down his face in rivulets as he finally broke down and mourned the life he left behind.

After the water ran cold, Jackson draped his soiled clothing over the shower to dry and donned a clean pair of pants. It was then that he remembered the letter tucked away in his jeans.

Frantic at the thought of losing the last tangible piece of his past, he rushed to carefully unfold the fragile paper. It was damp along the edges and a few of the more exaggerated letters at the end were bleeding into one another. Otherwise, the rest of the words written by Dana Katherine Scully were still perfectly legible and staring him in the face.

“I’m tired of not knowing,” he admitted, ready to accept what the past showed him. “I need to know more.”

Jackson sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his thighs as he stared intently at the next sentence written for him. He ran his tongue along his top lip while the letter shook between his fingers as one knee vigorously bounced up and down. “A nervous habit,” his mom would have to explain during every parent teacher conference at each new school as his teacher’s studied him from across the table.

He readied himself for another vision that he now expected to receive, embracing it. This time he read aloud…

“Chance embarking with this other on the greatest of journeys—a search for truths fugitive and imponderable.”

He felt it instantly: the burn and sting of his mind connecting to the past, delving into the memories of his birth mother as he was once again sucked into a world lived without him.

December 1st, 2012

Jackson paced the wooden floor within his mother’s body. She stared at herself clad in powder blue scrubs within the floor length mirror of a bedroom, playing with her Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital ID card that dangled from her lanyard. One slim finger traced along the address of 227700 Wallis Road, Farrs Corner, VA as Mulder’s shirtless figure loomed behind in the background.

“The timetable on something as radical as this, Mulder, is imponderable. Not only that, it’s improbable,” she spoke to the mirror in a tiresome tone resembling one she might use if she were debating on whether or not it would storm that night, or what to have for dinner.

She was resigned at the notion that Mulder would never hear her out and accept the fact that the pending alien invasion would in all likelihood, not happen at all. They were in a good place together—happily “married” while living life without darkness. Jackson felt a pang in her chest grow as she thought about the possibility of the man she loved so desperately falling off the edge if the invasion actually occurred and he could do nothing to stop it.

She watched in the reflection as Mulder ran a frustrated hand through his hair and scoffed. He took two purposeful steps forward and locked his driven gaze onto hers through the glass.

“Scully, It’s happening. It WILL happen. Why can’t you just believe it?”

Her patience fled instantly and Jackson felt her defensive walls fly up. He recognized the reaction and realized it was to protect herself from what she’s been hiding deep within her heart: guilt. Guilt surrounding his adoption flashed like fireworks in her mind and he could feel it eating her alive from the inside out.

She spun around and shook her head up at him. Her little body trembled with caged emotion.

“I don’t WANT to believe it, Mulder!” she cried and wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could soothe the shared pain they equally felt. “I… We sacrificed our son for a better, safer life and now you still want to believe in this?” She pointed to a calendar hanging on the wall with a red X through the number twelve. “Don’t you see goddammit? I can’t believe it!”

“Christ, Scully! I don’t want to believe this shit either,” he growled and grasped her hand gently. “Don’t you remember me not wanting to speak the words aloud to you in that hellhole of a jail cell? Fuck! My son—our little boy, Scully…” he choked.

“Don’t!” She jerked her hand out of his and sidestepped around him. Jackson could barely hold onto the vision with the powerful waves of anger, grief, and guilt that washed over her. “I fell in love with you because you never give up, Mulder, but please don’t say things we can’t change.”

His chin quivered as he shook his head. “We never talk about him… My son is living his life with another father, another family,” he rasped and followed her movements around the bed as she kicked off her shoes. “But he’s safe and loved and unharmed by the men who have harmed us!”

Tears burned down her cheeks and the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. “Mulder…”

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her with his arms embracing her tightly as silent sobs wracked through her body. She melted into him and nuzzled her face into his warm chest. The love she felt for him was as fierce as the ache in her heart.

“You did the right thing, Dana,” he whispered into her hair and she whimpered, squeezing him closer. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

The intense moment overwhelmed Jackson too much, jarring him out of his mother’s mind and sending his back bouncing off the mattress.

“Jesus Christ!” he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He didn’t understand this feeling—the same feeling his mother had felt so fiercely. The same one that had slowly been rebuilding in his heart over the last year.

But asking the age old question to which he was sure no one held the answer to, was the only thing that he could think to say in response to witnessing something so powerful.

“Why does love hurt so much?”

Hours flew by in a blur for Jackson. The images from Dana Scully and the memories from his childhood that he’d witnessed tumbled through his mind on an endless loop. Seeing something once usually left a permanent imprint on his brain, like a fingerprint pressed into glass. The image may fade but it still left its mark on him forever. He recalled reading that same fact about Mulder in his dossier when he hacked into the FBI’s personnel records after seeing he was partnered with the woman who birthed, and raised him for almost a year. An eidetic memory and an IQ worthy of much more than a man labeled as a spooky ex-fugitive. Maybe he and Mulder had much more in common than he thought.

He held the letter in front of him. The things he’d seen and felt from just reading simple words scrawled onto a piece of paper would brand Jackson for life. Yet, his mother’s words weren’t simple at all. They held great meaning—possibly even a power to set in motion what fate had preordained for them all before he was even born.

With a shake of his head at his aptitude for physics, he couldn’t help but think of how Isaac Newton’s universal law of gravitation pertained to his life. The law states: every object in the universe attracts every other object with a force that is directed along a line joining them. What if the force directing him was the letter and the objects being slowly pulled together by the powerful connection they shared were he and his birth mother?

He tossed a pillow across the room in frustration as new questions arose. Was it all fate? Was his existence created through the laws of science, the experiments through Project Crossroads meant to be? Was he a miracle child born of a love so strong it withstood life’s ultimate tests like his mother had written? Were these people that he’s come to understand so deeply meant to suffer while living a life without him?

“How fucked up is that?” Jackson sighed and sat up to grab the bag of peanuts he had stored in his bag. The salt cravings that always seemed to strike during times of stress required him to carry a bag of peanuts or salt-laced seeds with him on his travels. As he popped a couple into his mouth, he continued his philosophical reflection.

Everything he had witnessed through his visions while flexing his pineal gland enlightened him as to the true sacrifice that was made by everyone. It burned and blistered beneath his own skin. Strangers that he knew only by looking within and now he couldn’t bear to live without. If he held the key to destruction and annihilation, perhaps they held the key to his redemption.

He wanted to know them now, in the flesh, as if his own DNA screamed for it. Maybe it wasn’t as much about who he was or why he was, but who he chose to be. After reading the lines of the letter, immersing himself within the emotions, possessing the suffering endured for their cause in his own soul, he now understood so much more.

It was time. Time to take that leap. To fight alongside the one that bore him and loved him in the beginning even knowing the possibilities. There might be a war raging, but it didn’t have to originate from him. He had to step from behind the shadows and free himself from the prison of his own mind.

Jackson thought of the words of his idol, Malcolm X: “ Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you're a man, you take it.” He needed to take back his heritage, embrace it, and allow it to set him free. It was time to stand for something and stand against the ones that meant to use him to feed the monster. Before, he had been asleep under others control; now it was for himself. There was no more avoiding, no more ignoring of the signs written out for him in ink.

He would claim the life he lost with the people who love him and understand. Most of all he would stop running and avoiding what was no longer calling, but screaming out into the world. If fear held him back, then their love could cast it away. Just maybe he needed that, too.

[tigerbus2-blog]

Dyson Repairs

We carry more than 4 million parts from over one hundred seventy five major brands, so chances are, we have the part you need. Find appliance elements, lawn & garden equipment parts, heating & cooling parts and more from the highest manufacturers within the business right here. He holds his staff to the same normal, and is always willing to impart his vast information to anyone who wish to be taught. Just watch a couple of of his classes, and you will clearly see that the distinction with Mars Discount Vacuum, is the value you get from the experience and information we now have. We supply free in-retailer estimates, and free in-home central vac estimates. We restore ALL makes and fashions together with Dyson, Kirby, and Kenmore. It journeys a breaker in the house whenever you attempt to vacuum. Stop on by our Pewaukee storefront to search out exactly the vacuum accent you’re on the lookout for. Whether you want a new vacuum, your present one just stopped working otherwise you’re in search of a particular attachment, 3G Vacuum is certain to have what you need. Loosen the screw on the within of your new plug so you can loop your wires round them. Wrap the white impartial wire onto the screw attached to the left prong and the black scorching wire to the screw for the proper prong. Do not cut by way of any wires whereas your vacuum is plugged in since you can get shocked. Cut the existing plug off of your vacuum with a wire cutter. Use a pair of wire cutters to chop via the twine. Now with Olson Vacuums being your MIELE VACUUMsales and service center, stop by both of our 2 places to test them out. One single mud ball can contain as a lot as 250,000 home dust mites, each certainly one of them scary allergy symptoms and bronchial asthma. You consent to our cookies when you proceed to make use of our web site. Start doing it yourself with the boldness that comes with one hundred+ years of expertise. We've got tens of millions of parts, hundreds of brands, and hundreds of step-by-step movies— every little thing you have to discover it, repair it and end the job right. Most doubtless it is a wiring/electrical problem--not something you wish to mess with your self until you could have experience with rewiring home equipment. Your best wager is taking it in to be repaired by an expert. Put the new filter sheets again between the bag and the nozzle as well as over the exhaust vent. Seal your vacuum so the filters are held in place and check out the vacuum once more. If it doesn’t work, check that your wires are attached to the proper prongs. Buy a new vacuum if you recycle and we will provide you with as much as $200 off on select fashions. Free Estimates– Bring your vacuum to any of our nine places and we are going to provide a quick and full diagnostic to give you an estimate when you wait. Free Expert Help– As our buyer, you’ve made a good friend for life. Call us, text us or come visit and we will be happy to offer you any help we can. We Guarantee our Work– If something goes mistaken with a repair we’ve carried out, we’ll happily fix it. If they are, then the plug was not the difficulty together with your vacuum. Tighten the screws on the aspect of the prongs so the wires have full contact. Slide the base of the plug over the wires to hide them and screw the base into the prongs. Trade in your vacuum at Handy Andy's in New Bedford and get a Handy Andy's Quality Vac™ Best Vacuum, Best Guarantee, Best Service. This could possibly be an indication of a motor at the end of its life. Unusual noises may be brought on by worn motors or jammed parts. If your vacuum is cutting off, you can have an electrical drawback. Unplugging the vacuum from the wall socket will usually flip it off. However, this shouldn't be seen as an alternative to shutting the vacuum off appropriately, as unplugging it with out turning it off might harm some models. It's stuck being on, and when I try to push the off swap it won't turn off. If it doesn’t work or it begins and stops randomly, the plug could also be broken and have to be changed. Replacement vacuum belts could be purchased from house enchancment shops in addition to online retailers. Check the attachments on the tip of your vacuum hose as nicely to see if something is clogging them when you’re making an attempt to use it. Also providing free transport or local supply orders over $25.00. Our 65 years of experience means you can be sure you'll be joyful together with your vacuum and also you ll get a fantastic product for an excellent price that will last. At Mars Discount Vacuum, our proprietor Larry Watkins firmly believes that an knowledgeable buyer is the happiest and best type of customer. With over 30 years expertise in the vacuum business, Larry actually has earned the title “Vacuum Expert”. If your vacuum is exhibiting any of these issues, convey it to Vacuums 360. Manufacturers counsel an annual 24-point Tune-Up to keep your vacuum working like-new for years to come back. We use cookies to personalise content and advertisements, to provide social media options and to analyse our visitors. Our Handy Andy's Quality Vac is a really efficient vacuum that is nicely designed with attachments and options that make it very straightforward to make use of with little effort. Vacuum from one room to a different without unplugging the ability twine. Stark’s Vacuums recycles your old vacuum, whether you buy a brand new one from us or not! Bring your old or broken vacuum and we are going to recycle it accordingly to help defend our landfills. Loaner Vacuum – If we are unable to fix your vacuum on the spot, we'll give you a FREE loaner vacuum to use until yours is mounted. 10% discount on all vacuum equipment, luggage, belts, filters and parts. Make your cut on the base of the plug so that you don’t shorten your twine. Once the plug is cut off, you must see 2-3 inside wires inside the principle cable. If that’s the case in your vacuum, press down on the clip tab and pull it out from the port. Be cautious to not reduce the bristles on your curler or else your vacuum may not work as effectively. Try plugging your vacuum in and turning it on with the swap. Our skilled technicians give you the peace of thoughts knowing the job might be done right. Cleaning your home won’t really feel like a chore with the proper vacuum! Make certain you’re getting essentially the most worth for your cash when you put money into a vacuum from us at Vacuum Doctor. Amazon calculates a product’s star rankings based mostly on a machine discovered model instead of a uncooked knowledge average. The mannequin takes under consideration elements including the age of a score, whether or not the ratings are from verified purchasers, and factors that set up reviewer trustworthiness. Reach all the best way up stairs with out lifting the vacuum. Vacuum tall ceilings, cathedral ceilings, foyers, skylights and ceiling followers and not using a ladder. Best vacuum for hardwood floors, wooden floors, laminate flooring, tile floors, vinyl floors, onerous surfaces and bare flooring of any sort. We've helped 1000's of house owners with their buy of a great vacuum or set up of a central vacuum system. If you are traveling an extended distance in your Oreck tune-up, then please name forward to arrange identical-day service. Because it might shrink, the belt should by no means be close to water. Always store your vacuum in a temperate place so the belt would not turn into brittle and crack. You likely wash your palms a number of occasions a day, but are you doing so effectively? Learn how to minimize the spread of germs with an extra few seconds of scrubbing. When you want a comforting meal however haven't got plenty of time, whip up considered one of these fast pasta recipes. Thanks to all authors for making a page that has been read 544,012 instances. This article was co-authored by our trained team of editors and researchers who validated it for accuracy and comprehensiveness. Clean out the within of your vacuum every 3 months to maintain it working and functioning. Make sure vacuum cleaner repair near me is off and unplugged, then use a pencil or ruler to examine and remove any foreign object. You have come to us so we give you a service, and that's what we intend to do. To preserve the belt, wipe it with a paper towel or cloth. Complete the form or convey your vacuum into any of our 9 Portland, Vancouver or Bend area Stark’s Vacuums locations for a FREE estimate. We Recycle– Bring your vacuum to any of our locations and we'll recycle it at no cost. Click on Shop Parts, or select the type of product you're working with on the left and we'll help you discover the best half. But members who presently personal a corded stick vacuum are much less likely to substitute it with another corded stick vac. Twenty percent of current corded stick vacuum homeowners need their next buy to be a cordless stick vacuum. By distinction, despite the battery issues, just 4 % of cordless stick vacuum house owners wish to buy a corded stick vacuum for his or her next purchase. An average of 14 p.c of uprights had broken belts. Though Shark will get an Excellent score and Miele a Very Good, Black & Decker notched a Poor ranking. Four brands—Bissell, Dirt Devil, Hoover, and Royal—notched blended reviews, getting satisfactory scores for reliability but a Poor rating for owner satisfaction. There are greater than a dozen Shark uprights in our ratings, and also you’ll see the best clustered near the top; 10 make our recommended list. Problems with battery-powered stick vacs are just too prevalent. We are an sincere, treat-the-buyer-like-we-need-to-be-handled household run enterprise. Longwood Vacuum is your positive bet for a educated employees, friendly service, warranted services and products in Central Florida. Plug in your vacuum to an outlet and try turning it on to see if it works. Wrap the wires by hand across the ports of your new plug. Of these, the belts of Dirt Devil, Eureka, Hoover, Kirby, and Oreck break at a higher price than is typical. Here's a have a look at the top-rated cordless stick vacuum from Consumer Reports' lab exams. The remaining six manufacturers all rated Very Good for reliability, but their proprietor satisfaction rankings had been a bit lackluster, ranging from Good to Poor. Three of the 9 brands lined in our survey earn an Excellent rating for model reliability—Shark, Miele, and Black & Decker. But owner satisfaction for these three manufacturers is a special story.