#its just. my back hurty from sitting so much

[arnold-layne]

gonna try to post a new pirate chap today. that is if i dont collapse upon coming home, which happens almost every time

[helplessautomaton]

Could I request tecchou with prompts 3 and 12? Thank you I love your work!

3 (“don't you see? I'm the only one who really cares for you”) + 12 (“please.. just let me hold you.”)

sorry for the long wait, i realize that i, in fact, have drafts that need to get done! anyways hope you enjoy this, its currently 3:30 am and my head hurty

no TWS i can think of, i think, maybe idk

Life wasn't exactly in the cards for you and anyone close to you knew that well. Your mood reflected every bit of frustration. However you tried your best to look up in the worst of it all, it's that or to the grave you go. Your poor lip had been picked at so many times, the blood staining your nails. You wondered if the skin would ever stop healing. Afterall, what's one public display of terrorism on your way to work caused by who knows, gonna do to ruin your already shit year? That's right, bring Tecchou Suehiro into it because you wanted to be heroic against your body’s wishes. It was alright for a while, he talked to you a far bit longer than the rest of the victims of the attack. You jokingly took pride in his coworker’s comment about Tecchou spending just a little longer on you. The letters came frequently, more so legal nonsense with “support” mentioned in them, then there was one from Tecchou. The name didn't click originally and the letter was almost discarded had you not kept reading down. He thanked you for your bravery and how much it takes, rolling your eyes but it did make you smile. 

Applauding you for what you did that day kept circling back in your mind, something to latch onto with a heart barely full of pride. The legal letters stopped but tecchou’s letters did not, after the third letter, you wondered why he even bothered scouting out your address. Everything you felt was now sinking down into the dark blues of regret in your mind. Then the letters were not enough so he came in physically, a little cafe date then to a restaurant, then something bigger. It all became just a little too much then way too much. You used to not notice the way he would make sure you were physically okay, but you followed his eyes carefully. His questions about your health did get annoying and not comforting like they used to be. People who used to check in stopped, like they were scared but you never knew why. You got a hint that Tecchou’s behavior towards you affected his line of work. The white haired man who scoffed at Tecchou’s extended talk with you that fateful day was the same man yelling loudly at him. Forcefully taking the infatuated soldier with him while giving you mixed signals on how he felt about you, Tecchou’s expression went blank in his coworkers grasp. 

The last person you talked to got exposed for horrible things, you only found out by Tecchou. Your world was falling apart in a weird way and you didn't even know why anymore. The man in question only tilted his head at your quickly distressed face, you forgot why he was even with you today. He tried to comfort you but you resisted in your scrambled up mind. Tecchou let out a sigh before speaking up, “don't you see? I'm the only one who really cares for you, i deeply care for you,” He said your name with such care in love but you were too deep in mental turmoil to even realize it. Tears quickly spouted from your eyes, while you cried out on why this was happening to you, why everyday was such a horrible day. You barely felt Tecchou’s figure try to hold you before you pulled away, your hands covering your face as you still cried. Trying to sit down on the floor but Tecchou refused to let you sink down, still desperately wanting to hold you. “please..just let me hold you. I want you to be okay.” Why can't you have an okay year?, why couldn't you have friends that weren't such horrible people? Why did it have to be you that people were afraid of? Why out of anyone did you decide to play hero? The only person who had stayed was Tecchou, it was always Tecchou. 

So just this time, let him hold you.

[sharksa-shivers]

Max is sick/more texts between character stuff cuz why not?

Kristy: Max

Kristy: Max, cmon dude, need you to wake up! We kinda need you today!!

Max: Ive been up ffs been trying to sleep tho

Max: damn that sucks cuz i feel like shit

Kristy: Ughhhh, look, i get it, depression but like…You can't just keep sitting stuff out because of your depression???

Max: ??????? It's not depression tho???? Hshshshshs fuck

Max: Im fuckin sick lol im not coming sorry to disappointt

Kristy: Yeah, sure, ok. Nice prank buddy

Kristy: Now get up and get dressed, we need to go!!!

Max:(sends a pic of him holding up a wad of used tissues, Max looks out of it in the picture, he is obviously sick) sorry lol would you like a snot or cough sample to prove that im not fucking lying?

Kristy: …….Oh…….

Max: YEAH LMAO

Max: you try fuckin sleeping when you can't breath, having a tiny nose thats clogged doesn't help when im trying to inhale oxygen

Max: throat hurts, head hurty, nose blocked tf off, can i sttay home now mom??? please???? Im so tired and i feel like shit lol

Kristy: …..I guess you're kinda gonna have to, hmmm….Trying to think…

Max: how about fuck the mission, tkae a day off???

Kristy: No!!!

Max: lol you should

Max: i love demon fighting and shit and you nkow i do but like…life is nore then labor ok? Enjoy it

Kristy: ……That is so weird of a phrase to come from you of all people who's suicidal af

Max: IM NOT SUICIDAL EVERY FUCKING DAY GODDAMNIT SHSHSHSHSHSH IM ONLY SUICIDAL MOST DAYS OK?.??? THERE IS A DIFFERENCE

Max: in seriousness tho, eh. Today feels kinda good mental health wise, its just my physical health thats shit today lololol Kristy: Well…Guess it is what it is then…

Max: hey lol can you get me some food and some meds plz? Im cozy in bed dont wanna spread germs and shit but a bitch needa eat lol (also meds would be p nice i miss breathing…oxygen bb plz come back im sorry;~;)

Kristy: Yeah yeah lmao, i can. I'm gonna assume no food preferences today?

Max: No lol just plz, im so hungry, blehhhh (preferably something i can fucjing taste and that wont hurt my throat much tho lol)

Kristy: Okayyyyyy, i'll see what i can do.

Max: Best friendo ever lol you da best!!! 💗 ---------------- And now some rambling text info bout The Trio derps whenever sick cuz why not tho? --- Trio derp sickness levels (this sickness meaning like…ig nausea levels --- Kristy: So Kristy is least likely to like get sick like that. With her having magic and the amulet and whatnot, she gets very used to rapid, disorienting movements over time (though at the series start, i can see this being more of an issue but also with Kristy's determination, i can see her blowing that shit out of the water pretty quick, her determination being the stronger of the 2) Kristy can still very much get sick tho, if she's in a very disorienting situation for a long time period, she's gonna get fucking sick… 🍃🍃🍃

Sharky: So with Sharky, he can get sick and he does from time to time. It's either him getting motion sick, him getting actual sick (from like food poisoning and bugs and whatnot) or it's the third option and that tying into him being a shark (but i'll hop back to this in a sec)

Sharky is kind of harder to get motion sick because he does have the advantage of being born in the ocean so…He's used to that sort of thing, like a ride or whatever isn't going to give him motion sickness, he gets it more from like…Being thrown around rapidly with 0 control or from magic use or things like that…

So for the other thing…So…him being a shark yeah? So a reminder; Sharky can throw up his entire stomach, like wholeass organ…This is because he's a shark and it's something Sharky REALLY REALLY FUCKING HATES part cuz it's so weird, part cuz it's disgusting and part because it fucking hurts since he's very not used to doing that…Sharky can vomit up either his entire stomach or he just throws up normally…Sharky doesn't really have much control over this but if it's a higher stress situation, it's gonna be the entire organ coming up. (this whole bit happens more if Sharky's scared or very fucking stressed or in a big emergency sort of thing…Otherwise, Sharky's probably gonna just throw up normally…) Sharky learns he has this ability during the series and i kinda megadoubt he ever utilizes it like Slash does BUT Sharky does learn how to control this a bit better and when he feels it happening, he tends to insta-calm down to try and prevent the whole thing from coming out… 🦈🦈🦈 Max: Max defs gets motion sickness probably the worst…This is probably another reason why Max isn't the biggest on dizzying shit or boats or things like that because it probably fucks him up alottttttttt… Unlike Kristy he has no magic And unlike Sharky, Max does not have any sort of help from the ocean soooooooooo…Yeah, rip dogeboi [i kinda feel like Sharky throws up more then Max does tbh but i think it's cuz Sharky's put in more situations where that can happen vs Max…] 🐶🐶🐶 Now for sickness sickness, i feel like Sharky probs gets sick in that way the least cuz of his height honestly (it's harder for germs and shit to bother him if they can't reach his face…If somebody coughs near him, it ain't gonna be near his face so…) I feel like Kristy's second And i feel like Max probs has it worst here again tbh (i defs feel like Max has really fucking awful allergies tbh…Idk why but it's a vibe i get, probably if i had to guess, something with his fur picking up things that make him sneeze and cough and whatnot, rip dogeboi again)

[taurusicorn2400]

Did I Do A Bad?

Word count: 1027

Can also read on Ao3

"She left."

Violet and Louis froze. No, they couldn't have heard that right. AJ must be playing some sort of prank on them.

"Uh, heh, we must have heard you wrong," Louis laughs. "Could you um, could you repeat that?"

"Comic Clem left us! She left me!"AJ tried to keep his tears in.

Ok, so they didn't hear that wrong. He really said she left. That didn't make any sense. She just up and left? To where? Why. These were the questions running through Lou and Vi's, as well as all of ours because what the fuck, heads. This can't be true, but AJ doesn't lie, so it has to be. Oh god what the fuck?

Violet felt like she was going to throw up. She felt her whole entire being was vibrating and on fire. Goddamn it, it's happening again. Someone she loved left her, again. The blonde girl felt as if she couldn't breath, that her chest was about to cave in on itself and then turn inside out. Is this a panic attack? Is this what Brody went through? God, Vi is going through a crisis, but damn she has to give some kudos to her late friend for going through this. Violet doesn't know if she can handle another loved one leaving her. 

" D-did Comic Clem say why she left?" Vi doesn't know why she asked that, she isn't even sure if she wants to know the answer.

"Something stupid. That she wasn't happy. That we couldn't make her happy." AJ's tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks, the anguish being too much.

Not happy? How could she not have been happy? Was all the laughter and smiles at Louis's jokes fake? All those times where she said she was happy to him were all lies? Louis needed to sit down. The dreadhead feels like he's about to faint. His chest felt tight, and kept getting tighter as time went on. Comic Clem left because she wasn't happy, they didn't try hard enough to make her happy. Louis felt like it was his fault. That was basically his thing, making people happy, and he failed. Oh god he was gonna throw up.

"Did I do a bad?" AJ's heartbroken voice broke through their thoughts. "Did Comic Clem leave because of me?" 

Oh god, ok, they feel pity for themselves alter, but right now there is a crying six year old that needed them. "What? No no, that's, that's not it at all." Louis bent down to get face to face with the young boy.

Violet pulled AJ into a half hug. "Yeah, none of this is your fault. At all."

AJ kept crying because his heart hurty. "Then why did she leave? Why did Comic Clem leave and say I couldn't make her happy here."

Violet and Louis looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Best friend telepathic communication has its perks. They used their brain power to figure out how to cheer AJ up and to see this isn't his fault.

"Hey, little dude, look at us ok," The blonde girl kneels down next to Louis making eye contact with the child. "This isn't your fault, alright? You've done all that you could have, and that's what matters. You did your job. And nothing about this is your fault whatsoever." Violet says making sure AJ knows he shouldn't hold any guilt, wishing these were the words told to her for years.

Louis stand up eruptly with a determined look on his face. "Alright, you know what, we're your parents now."

AJ wipes his eyes. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with the kid. What?"

"You heard me. It makes sense," The dreadhead grins. "He's young so he needs parent figures, we're the closest people to him. We work together and become his parents."

Violet looked at Louis. "Dude, I'm gay."

"No, I know! Not like that! I meant platonically. I know you're a lesbian disaster, and I have absolutely no romantic feels for you, at all. No offense."

"None taken. Relived actually."

"But yeah, I mean, we as friends, take care of the little man, so he doesn't feel….sad."

The blonde girl looks back at AJ, who still had tears in his eyes, less so than before, but he also had a bit of hope. Goddamn it, she can't say no to that. She looks back at Louis, who had the puppy dog eyes. Ah jeez, now she definitely can't say no. Don't tell no ome, but Vi has a soft spot for AJ and Louis, shhh, you ain't hear it from me. The blonde girl sighs.

"Fine, we'll friendship parent."

"Hell yeah." Louis fist pumped

"Really?" AJ asked wanting to make sure this was really real. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, we mean it."

The smile that appeared on the young boy's face was bright enough that it could light up a mansion. "Does that mean I can call you guys mom and dad?"

"Fuck yeah you can!"

"Oh god I'm a teen mom now."

He ran forward, and hugged both Louis and Violet around their waist, before running off, finding new found excitement for the world. His mind is off Comic Clementine leaving, and is now on how he has new family to look after him.

"Lou?"

"Yeah, Vi?"

"Will we be ok?"

Louis takes a moment to answer, wondering that she exact thing. "I don't know. Maybe."

"....I can work with maybe."

"Yeah," Louis sighs. "Are you ok? With the whole….everything?"

Vi looks towards the sky, taking a deep breath. "Maybe."

"I can work with maybe." Louis grins as he tugs the lapels of his coat.

The blonde snorts, though she trues to hide it. "Shut up you idiot."

"Ah, it got you to laugh, I'm doing my job."

"How about yoy take the job of kissing my ass."

"I thought you were gay."

Violet slaps a palm to his face. "Oh my god."

"Also what ass."

"Oh my god!"

Louis laughs as he runs back towards the school doors because Violet was chasing him, probably to kill him, but hey, better than crying.

[myhaikyuuthings]

Ikea Furniture

trying to put your new furniture together doesn’t go quite as planned... with  Tanaka, Iwaizumi and Tendou ( separately) 

 Tanaka:

Okay so you two got the Oppland bed frame

in both of your defense, how hard can it be to put together a Bed frame

its probably one of the easier things to build, right?

by the fourth hour of trying to get it together, Tanaka was huffing and puffing at the materials

“IT SAYS PUT THE SCREW HERE, I PUT THE SCREW IN AND IT DOESN’T FIT, Y/N HELP ME”

you tried the screw

“WHAT KIND OF SCREW DOES IT WANT OH MY GOD”

you feel like you’ve aged 10 years trying to put this stupid thing together

“Ryu, my love, light of my life, have you been using the screws from our Old bed for this one?” 

“....no?”

you wanted to smack your head against the headboard at this point

you take the old screws from his hands, putting them away and begin searching for the right ones

Tanaka sifts through the boxes around him, grumbling about the “stupid foreign bed with its stupid special screws”

it took another hour to find the screws. he was sitting on the baggie of screws

“HOW DID YOU NOT FEEL THAT?”

“I DON’T KNOW OKAY IM SORRY”

you eventually got it together, laying in bed together

“...sorry for raising my voice Ryu”

“im sorry for raising mine too sweetheart” 

....

“lets never buy another thing from ikea” “agreed”

Iwaizumi: 

you two went for something relatively simple, a IVAR chair

“it’ll be a good bonding experience and the perfect way to see how we handle stressful situations,” he had said, you had no reason to disagree

you had bought four of them, so that you could have a matching set for the dining table

he would put two together, and you would put two together, simple

an hour in and you both were done with your first chair

Iwaizumi sat his up and took a seat to make sure it was sturdy

it collapsed under his butt

“....pft.... is your ass okay” 

he stood up, sending a half hearted glare your way

“well lets see yours then” 

you sat yours up proudly, taking a seat and beaming when it didn’t budge

“now lean back, just to test the back” 

you did, deciding you could at least humor him after he fell

next thing you know you’re staring directly at the ceiling

“you put it together upside down dummy. the back is on the bottom with the other set of legs”

you blush deeply, not understanding how you didn’t notice that

“well at least mine can hold a body up, who needs to lean back anyways” 

the two of you laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation

“how about we hire someone to put these together huh? or you can show me how you made it so sturdy and i’ll show you what way is the right way up”

“i guess it wouldn’t hurt to help each other” 

Tendou: 

a KIVIK sofa

“this isn’t going to be easy baby”

“don’t worry y/n! we can do anything. have some faith in us okay”

it took you two days to put it together

even now you aren’t entirely sure it’s correct

it feels sturdy and safe, but this definitely isn’t how it was set up in the store

the building process was a lot of Tendou throwing out the instructions and you retrieving them from the trash 

“ we don’t need those y/n” he would whine, every single time he saw the paper in your hands

after many, many failed attempts you guys finally got it together

you laid on the couch together, icing your butts

“i didn’t think a couch falling would hurt that much” you pouted

“i know right! they’re supposed to be comfy not hurty” he whined, poking the bruise forming on his hip

“hurty?” you teased, hiding your giggles behind your hand

“yes hurty” he grinned, “do you not know how words work y/n? they’re all made up so why can’t I make up a word? hm?” 

you leaned over, kissing the side of his head

“never said you couldn’t cutie, I like it” 

would your butt ever forgive you for the hell you put it through? probably not

but seeing how happy and Proud of his work Tendou was, you figured being a test dummy all those times was worth it 

“why’re you looking at me like that?” 

“i dunno, guess I just love you a whole lot” you shrugged

as he leaned in to kiss you all you could think was ‘yeah, definitely worth it’ 

[yuthoe]

Day 30: Partners (MONSTA X: Chae Hyungwon)

this is horrible HAHAHAHA it's the second-to-the-last day of MTM and today's prompt is:

Day 30: Sports Setting

and i was going to make like an "i can do anything better than you" plot, but this is the most i can do with the time i had today. was super busy and this deformed baby is what was born. hayyyy idk, i was really looking forward to this prompt bc (1) the premise i made was really fun and (2) it's hyungwon HAHA but apparently my brain juices have run out

ALSO IF Y'ALL ARE WONDERING, the sport they're doing is dancesport aka competitive ballroom, which i also practice hihi i'm so predictable, trying to insert dancesport into every sports related thing lmao. it is 100% a sport and south korea is also a member of the world dancesport federation. it was so hard trying to describe the steps without being overly technical and using the actual names man, brain hurty

PAIRING: Chae Hyungwon x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff. WARNINGS: swearing. WORD COUNT: 1,470.

---

“Two—three—cha-cha-cha! Two—three—cha-cha-cha! One more—cha-cha-cha!” your coach chants, clapping in time to the beat as you and Hyungwon spin around the dance floor. You end with your right feet forward and in an open hold, your hands held lightly in his. The music stops and all that’s audible is your labored breathing.

“Oh my god, fuck,” Hyungwon says, letting go of your hands and doubling over to take in deep breaths. You drop your hands to your hips and walk around, trying to slow your heart rate before sitting down to grab water. “How long until the end of the combo?”

Your coach leans on the wall next to the sound system, leisurely scrolling through his phone. “Not long, just a few more steps,” he says. “Ten minute break and we’ll try the rumba. And let’s try to finish it today, shall we? So we can work on your jive on Wednesday.”

You waddle over to your bags and crouch down to grab your water bottle and squirt some much needed liquid in your mouth. You let out a satisfied sigh after swallowing, breathing out slow before standing back up and wiping your sweat with a towel.

Hyungwon does the same, leaning one hand on the mirrored wall as gulps down water. He rests one foot on its heel and turns it this way and that, flexing and pointing his toes to stretch the muscles; the other foot gets the same treatment.

You go up to the mirror, a little ways away from your partner, and lean your weight on both hands to practice your swivels. Left foot steps to the right and as you change weight, bring the right foot in and face to the left side; repeat starting from the right foot; repeat starting from the left foot.

It’s quiet in the studio as you mind you continue your swivels and Hyungwon reviews the choreography on the floor. For the nth time these past two weeks you wonder how you ended up with him as a partner. You still somehow can’t believe that there isn’t another guy available in the club to compete with you for the Lilian’s Cup this season—and you still somehow can’t believe that Hyungwon of all people offered to partner with you.

It’s not like he’s a bad club member—far from it, actually. He shows up for every club meeting, sure sometimes he’s late but he participates the whole time and even asks to stay behind to work on the choreography sometimes when it’s a particularly tricky variation. You just. Never really talk. He hangs out with the couple of friends he has in the club, and you stick to the club officers who you know from some of your classes.

There’s this tiny voice in the back of your head that’s nagging at you to just talk to him. Because in the five training sessions you’ve had this month, not once have you spoken to each other save for the cursory greetings before and after practice. It’s mostly you both talking to your coach and not acknowledging each other.

Which is really bad, given that you’re supposed to be partners and have chemistry, especially for a dance like the fucking rumba.

You sigh, closing out the couple of cucarachas you did to stretch out your hips and slide over to watch Hyungwon.

He’s just starting the second combo you’ve learned for the routine, the natural top. So you slide into the ballroom hold and do three sets of rumba walks forward in time, looking at anything but him, though you can imagine the surprised look on his face.

After the natural top, you slide into an opening out and prepare for the sliding doors step, when you see Hyungwon stop from the corner of your eye.

His arms are outstretched in the proper positions, his left hand still holding your right, but the rest of his body is stuck in an unflattering stance, eyes flitting about and brows furrowing in frustration. “What’s the next step again?”

“Sliding doors,” you say, and step forward. He steps back as you lean your weight on your forward foot and lift your connected hands up and over your head. You step slowly, allowing him to find his footing in the step, and after a moment of fumbling, you watch both of you in the mirror, properly meeting in the middle and splitting with every side step. After the second sliding doors step, you halt, coming to the end of the choreography so far. There’s still a ways to go, seeing as you’ve only been taught around sixteen bars.

Despite the rumba being a slow dance, you’re still somehow breathing heavily. You lament sometimes that the rumba is your favorite dance because the muscle control it requires is insane. The push and pull between slow and sharp movements gets you off kilter at some points, especially if those difficult turns have to be done without support from a partner. Therefore, communication is necessary to build a solid foundation of give-and-take.

Which means you really have to open your mouth and talk to Hyungwon sometime soon if you want to do well for the Lilian’s Cup.

You pivot to face him, the canvas soles of your heels helping your sharp turn. “Do you need help with the choreo?”

Hyungwon had been staring at the ceiling, no doubt running through the routine in his head once again, but looked down at you when you spoke. He shrugs, bites his lips and says, “Yeah.” He sighs, resting his hands lightly on his hips as he leans on one foot, the other tapping the floor in agitation. “I have a tough time memorizing choreo unless I make it, so…”

You blink. “You make routines?”

Another shrug, and he holds up a hand with the palm down and tilts it from side to side. “Eeehh, sometimes. I’m still learning, and it’s full of basic steps. Definitely not competition caliber yet, not even bronze.”

You purse your lips, nodding. “Still, though, that’s pretty impressive. I’ve been dancing for a while and I can’t create choreo yet.”

“Well,” Hyungwon says, bending his lanky body backwards to open up his chest. “The first step is always the most challenging, I’d say. Once you actually try, it’s easier to take the next steps.” He intertwines his fingers and raises them above his head, groaning from the strain.

You smile at that, and decide that maybe Hyungwon is a better conversation partner than you initially thought. “How about we set like, a day in the week to practice. Just us, you know. I can help you memorize the routines for Lilian’s and you can teach me the stuff you make.” You clear your throat, gaze stuck on your feet, pointing and flexing and looking for something to do. “You know. If you’re cool with it.”

Hyungwon hums. “Yeah, sure.” You look up to see him looking into space, finger tapping on his chin as he thinks. “Can we meet up in the afternoon, though? ‘M not much of an early riser.”

You chuckle. “‘Course. I hate mornings, too.” You wipe your sweaty forehead with your towel and let it hang over your head like a veil as you jog to your bag. You come back to Hyungwon’s side a moment later, holding your phone out. “I also just realized that I don’t have your number yet. It’ll make setting up a date way easier.”

“Mm, you’re right about that,” he says, slender fingers taking your phone and tapping on the screen before handing it back to you. His contact is saved as Dance Partner Hyungwon. “Just a warning tho, I might not reply sometimes because I forget to.”

You tap your phone against your palm and shrug. “S’all right. I’ll just ask one of your friends to pester you then, like Minhyuk. I know he’s pretty… persistent.”

Hyungwon scoffs, but he has a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, that’d do the trick. I’ve known him for years, he won’t shut up unless I humor him.”

You’re about to reply when two loud claps echo through the room. “Okay, you two, break’s over,” your coach calls. “Starting positions please, and let’s finish up this routine today so we can just keep polishing.”

After dumping your towel and phone on your bag and sliding your hand into Hyungwon’s as you get into position, you whisper to him. “I’ll text you later about that after-practice practice.” As the sultry music starts, you have a thought. “And don’t you dare pretend you don’t know me when I finally message you, Chae Hyungwon.”

He bites his lips and looks over your shoulder, fighting a laugh. “Fine, fine,” he says, and composes himself, just in time for your cue to take the first step.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (11 - End)

Chapter 11: Where the Heart Is - Epilogue | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Notes: AAAHH IT’S FINALLY DONE!!! Thank you so much to everyone who’s been sending love for this fic (as well as its prequel) and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it down to the last period! You guys have been so kind 🥰 I’ll be taking a day or two to take a break (bc fingers hurty) before I take on the requests in my ask box. Thanks again you guys, hope you enjoyed this fic as well as my other works! 💕

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 | Previous: Chapter 10 | Masterlist

11 of 11

The hum of a large fan woke you up, soft sheets smoothly stroked your skin, and a palette of lights danced in your puffy eyes. Your body felt like there was a weight bearing over it; when your vision has finally adjusted, your eyes surveyed the room and knew this exact room. You lifted your head and found BD-1 standing at the foot of the bed.

“BD?”

The distracted droid turned its attention to you and beeped what seemed to be “Good morning” in translation.

Good morning?

Wait, I’m in bed?

Standing up abruptly made your body sore, you winced and saw that bacta healing strips were plastered on the areas where the interrogation machine pads generated the shocks.  You’re dressed to just your pants and tank top, your jacket sat folded on the trunk at the end of the bed. You searched the room again—it was only you and BD. Exactly the same way how your journey started—except the bruises and the bandages, of course.

You head upstairs leading outside and you’re greeted by the twin suns adorning the morning sky as they rose.

“Bogano…” you gasped, blinking repeatedly just to see that you’re not dreaming or perhaps dead. “I’m back in Bogano?”

Looking to the east—where the Boggdo sinkholes are—the silhouette of a black shuttle stuck out like a sore thumb. You searched for the Mantis, it was there sitting in the spot where it usually land, its dorsal fin stuck out and reflected the sunlight. You looked straight ahead, to the Vault in your north, and then at the corner of your eye, you spot Cal standing in the middle of the mesa with his back turned, gazing at the horizon.

You cautiously approached him but stopped at a considerable distance. He had shed the black Inquisitor armor, in exchange, he sported a modest, black, wool sweater and pants. He sensed your presence and turned around to greet you.

His smile was the first thing you saw in the Bogano dawn.

“[y/n]…” he uttered. He was in a state of surprise seeing you out of bed and got him tongue-tied, thus unsure what to say next.

You felt your heart skip a beat but in the best way possible. You didn’t say a word either, though not realizing yourself, your legs carried you sprinting towards him. You threw yourself in his arms which he so welcomingly returned. He felt a massive burden depart his chest when he felt your body pressing against his; you buried your face in the crook of his bicep and your grip crumpled the back of shirt, feeling for him to know if he was real of just an illusion.

Cal is definitely real. You’re not dreaming.

He stroked the length of your hair down and nuzzled his cheek over your head.

He didn’t say anything, which was exactly what he needed to do. He made the most out of your embrace that he longed for a painfully long time.

“You’re home…” your voice shuddered, nearly choking on tears.

“No, stardust…” he gingerly withdrew and cradled your face with his bare hands. “We’re home.”

A supposed laugh became a relieved huff through your mouth. You were just too elated that this is all happening. You caressed back his face, your thumb felt for the roughness of his stubble and then combed the drooping locks of hair hanging in front of his forehead.

You gazed into his clear eyes whose green irises mingled with the golden hue of the waking sun. Your heart leapt in joy upon your epiphany.

It IS you! My Cal… my sweet Cal. You declared in your mind, though you were certain Cal could have heard that.

Standing on the tips of your toes, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him in for a kiss. His hand took up the space beyond your neck to caress you that his fingers raked the bottom layer of your hair; his hands trailed to the small of your waist until he wrapped them around you, in between kisses you could feel his smile and then the playful dip of his tongue into your mouth.

The morning breeze blew in Bogano as the suns rise from behind the cliffs of yonder.

Cal held you ever so close to him, embracing you in the tightest hug he could envelop you in, both of you spectated the breaking dawn until the sunlight blankets the mesas—touching every single thing in its wake and bathing you in its warmth. You smile to yourself and relished the warmth of Cal’s embrace.

Home.

THE END.

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Part 4

WARNING: IN THIS EPISODE THERE ARE MENTIONS OF EXTREME PAIN AND DEATH IS HINTED AT (VERY LIGHTLY) BUT IT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME. IF YOU WANT TO READ ON, DO SO RESPONSIBLY. 

I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THE ORCHESTRA VERSION OF BLACK SWAN WHILE READING TO THIS PART, IT WILL ONLY INCREASE THE FEELINGS I WANT TO EVOKE💖

The concert had ended, and with it went the energy that you had been feeling for most of it. You felt as if you were some sort of mechanical toy that had been unplugged from the electricity you so desperately needed. With every step you took away from that stage, your eyelids felt heavier, your heart pulled on your ribcage and it was growing increasingly difficult to lift your legs and walk.

“Y/N-ah you look just like you did this morning,” Hyejin’s voice reached your ears, making you feel like she was being filtered through some hazy membrane and her voice was too low to hear, “you’re getting paler and paler. Maybe we should take a detour and get someone to look at you…?”

Her worried expression made you instantly regret having lied to her and having attended the concert today. You were in no condition to go there and impose your sickness on her, but who knew that you would experience that temporary high? And who knew that as soon as it passed you would end up feeling worse than ever? Certainly, not you. You urged your lethargic brain to work overtime and think of a good enough excuse that would allow you to get home sooner, no unnecessary detours. It wasn’t great, but you did come up with something, and not particularly a lie.

“I just get really nervous around big crowds, I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic right now…”

With that skeptical look that you’ve grown to be accustomed to, she frowned and took a hold of your forearm, as if she was trying to say ‘you may be as stubborn as you like, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

Little by little you made your way out of the stadium, and little by little, you felt life draining from your body. It started little, like the euphoric feeling that had possessed you mere hours ago. Your heart started feeling chilled, and that cold began spreading through your ribcage. You could feel every rib on fire, and then they would start melting and freezing slowly, making you agonise in pain. If you weren’t sure that your bones couldn’t bend at will, you would have sworn that those same ribs were contorting in a struggle to see which one of them could reach your heart sooner and end your painful existence. Then from the ribs, it reached your spine and you could feel molten lava licking each and every one of your vertebrae. You could see the arch that signalled you leaving the Olympic Stadium clearly enough, but your vision blurred as it was approaching. But no, your body wasn’t willing to give you a respite; if it was willing to do that, it would have done so months ago. Each step you took, you could feel your weight shifting from your frame into Hyejin. In the back of your head, you felt incredibly guilty, but you couldn’t bring your brain to focus in anything else that wasn’t the pain you were feeling for longer than a few seconds. Your last remnants of sanity happened to focus on a little stone bench next to one of the vehicle exits of the stadium, and instantly that became your goal and your lifeline. Hyejin was now screaming in the background, her hands touching your forehead to keep your head from bobbling to the side and coming away wet with cold sweat. But you just saw that bench. You felt like walking through sand but eventually arrived there. Your limbs fell flat against the cold surface, while Hyejin lifted your legs and looked around frantically. As you lost the power to keep your head straight, your vision shifted from the starless sky towards the less and less people milling about the stadium after the concert finished; they were all leaving to go home, the closest person too far away to hear Hyejin’s call for help, and the stuff too distracted to do anything.

Funny how after so many years of constant pain, you never thought that same pain would end up killing you. Granted, you were still breathing, but for how much longer? The pain had reached your head now, you thought, as a flash of pain rushed from the back of your head to your left eye, and then did a victory lap around your brain. Was this how it felt like to have your brain torn apart? Poor mummies, having them pulled out of their nose. Was the liquid dripping over your cheek your melted brain? Ah, no, you realised. It was just blood, blood that tainted Hyejin’s hands when she tried to stop the bleeding with tear-filled eyes. 

You wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, to give you some pill that would make you feel numbness again and to go home, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating. Nothing in your body was cooperating for that matter. You could feel the bile rising from your stomach, but once it went pass your throat you couldn’t feel anything anymore. You didn’t even realise your friend had turned you sideways until your left arm went across your chest and hung there, lifeless. Hyejin must have thought that sitting you up would be a good idea, keeping all the fluids in and as soon as she did, you felt the tugging from your ribs intensifying. The fact that you could feel anything anymore startled you out of your pain induced stupor. Now with your back turned to the stadium you could feel the strongest desire in your soul to get up and return inside. And then you felt stupid, how could your inside be demanding something as taxing as impulsing yourself off the bench was actually ridiculous. 

You were really loosing your grasp in reality back then. You couldn’t tell if your eyes were opened or closed, and you could swear you were hearing voices, not belonging to your friend, that much was obvious. A cacophony of sounds coming from all directions, screaming at you and at each other. You could distinguish blurred words here and there, and if you concentrated hard enough, you almost could feel a calming touch in your face. Maybe Hyejin sprouted another hand when I wasn’t looking? What a curious thing to investigate, maybe scientist would be interested. It certainly would make multitasking much more easy. 

Blacking out would be so easy now, the only thing you had to do was block the voices and ignore the tingling in your ears trying to make sense of Hyejin’s panicked screams. Maybe if you closed your already closed eyes, the darkness beyond darkness would take you and everything… would stop… hurti

Jin was worried. Incredibly so. They were still backstage, six of them already dressed and ready to go looking for the damsel, but Hobi was making the task complicated. It started lightly, with him sweating profusely even though the stylists kept drying it away. Then it was him clenching his teeth at the slightest movement. And now it was spiralling out of control.

“I’m telling you this shit is NOT normal!” Shouted Jungkookie while supporting Hoseok’s head so that it didn’t crash against the wall.

“I don’t care if it’s normal or not!” Screamed back Jimin, more scared than angry, “If this girl is leaving the stadium we need to get Hoseokie hyung in a car and out of the stadium now! Don’t you see what the withdrawal is doing to him?!”

“What withdrawal…?” Whispered Hoseok, almost as if his voice was fighting its way back into his throat.

“It makes sense if you think about it though,” mused Namjoon, pushing Hoseok to his feet and manoeuvring him towards the exit, “this is the closest you two have ever been that we know, and it would be logical that your symptoms worsen once you separate again.”

“I don’t care much for these symptoms at the present moment, Namjoon-ah… I feel with one foot on the grave already, I just need to get to her…” answered Hobi back.

The other six men looked at each other in panic. How bad was the pain getting that he wasn’t joking about but telling them he felt half dead?

“Don’t be silly,” chastised Jin, trying to lighten up the mood.

“His symptoms aren’t as bad that they would kill him, right?” Whispered Yoongi, worry colouring his voice and leaning into Jin, who patted his back.

Jin wasn’t about to say it out loud. The fact that maybe the pain wasn’t real, didn’t have a physical ailment causing it, but there was still a nagging at the back of his head that didn’t allow him to speak and put his brother’s mind at ease. Maybe the symptoms weren’t the real danger, but would his heart stand such intense bouts of pain for much longer, or would it just give up? He hoped they could beat the clock and find this girl before any of those fighting hearts decided they couldn’t stop suffering anymore. 

Their walk to the car was excruciating, so much so that Jungkook had to support Hoseok from the side Namjoon wasn’t holding. He stumbled over his feet, crashed against door jambs and walked blindly in the direction of the car. Namjoon could be heard swearing under his breath every time his hand nocked against something hard to protect Hobi’s ribs; he was in enough pain already. 

“How are we going to organise the rides? I don’t feel comfortable having only one of us with Hobi hyun… can you see the thread, TaeTae?” Questioned Jimin.

Taehyung stayed silent, looking in the direction of the vehicle exit and seeing how the red line went straight through the wall. She was out there, she could be on the other side of the city by then, for all they knew. How could they reach her when Hoseok hyung was in such a poor state?

He was about to answer something back to Jimin when he could hear some voices pass the exit. They were trying to calm a hysterical woman that couldn’t stop screaming. Curious, he separated from the group that were trying to coerce Hobi into the car when he wasn’t collaborating at all, and got closer and closer to the screams.

A girl, small and nervous was standing next to a couple of their bodyguards, trying to move one of them from the door and drag him away from the garage. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair in disarray and her headband crooked atop her head. The men were trying their hardest not to be too harsh with her, that much was obvious, but the poor woman was way past the point of caring, screaming her lungs out.

“My friend passed out, she’s almost stopped breathing, please!! She’s bleeding from her ears and nose!”

Looking in the direction she was trying to drag the men, Taehyung saw a figure laying in a bench, a few meters away from them. Her limbs were numbly hanging at her side and her hair fell from the ponytail, Mang headband bloody and laying on the ground. Oh, and the red line of fate disappearing into her back.

“NAMJOON HYUNG!” He screamed, running back to the car and grabbing Namjoon by the arm. “TAKE HOBI HYUNG OUT NOW.” His eyes were wide as saucers and the tension was palpable.

“What so you want Tae? We can’t afford loosing time now!” Stopped Yoongi, now feeling the stress and the fear touching him.

“NEITHER CAN MANG GIRL! HER FRIEND IS LOOSING IT OUTSIDE, SHE FAINTED!”

Those few words seemed to do the trick. Namjoon and Kook turned immediately on their heels, moving Hoseok out of the van, almost unconscious as well, and ran with him almost carrying him to the vehicle exit. The members of Bangtan following behind saw how Hoseok suddenly got free from the hold of his brothers and stood groggily looking around himself. He caught his bearings in a few seconds, enough to start walking, not knowing why or where he was going, but just walking. 

Taehyung and Jin caught Jimin’s arms at the same time when he tried to help Hoseok. Now it was him, getting closer and closer, guided by an invisible pull that took his will away from him. Then he saw the girl in the bench and his world went out of his axis. She was starting to stand up, a hand flying to her head. She was standing now, fast approaching blindly the spot where Hobi had been rooted since he saw her. He was just waiting for her eyes to open. What was pain anymore? If she would just look at him, if their eyes would just meet. Then everything would be alright again.

They were mere meters apart, there was no one else in the world except for those people who needed each other just like they needed oxygen. What would happen when that pressure both of them were feeling pulling on their ribcages ended, when their hearts met in the middle, the closest they had ever been?

Their breath was stuck in their throats, both afraid to look up because they were both clueless about what was happening. She just kept walking towards him, her eyes closed but her course clear, not needing to open them to see him. She must have felt her presence just as clearly as he was feeling hers, from the tip of her nose to the hair in the nape of her neck, going through every nervous ending of her body. Feeling her closer and closer, he raised his hand forward, their fingertips millimetres apart as a current went through their bodies and their eyes opened.

Cristal clear they were seeing each other face to face for the first time, eyes wide open as their hands intertwined and they took a deep breath at the same time. They saw every detail of the face of their soulmate, memorising it beyond reason, beyond possibility. Without them deciding to, they got closer and closer, and they fused in a hug, putting their hearts closer than they had ever been, beating in unison and feeling beyond euphoric, together for the first time and for the rest of their lives.

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 4

A/n: OMG this took me the hardest time to edit!! I just couldn’t get their feelings right, but I hope it ended well!!! I hope you guys liked it!! Let’s chat!!

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

Love 💜🌙

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[no-shxme]

You've said a lot about a daemon au, any snippet from that?? particularly something hurty on the separeted kayn idea?

was deliberating on sharing this anon. here’s a snippet of something I may or may not post in the future. hopefully this makes some amount of sense without that much context. beneath the cut as it’s long. :’)

-shxxx

.

.

Rhaast remains quiet and apart but he can still feel Kayn’s emotions bubbling through their strange connection, albeit faintly. His mind coils with frustration. The human picks at his words and makes things way harder than they have to be. A pest.

“So you’re like me.” Kayn had said. That still causes him to bristle indignantly. Like him? They are worlds apart. Rhaast is nothing like this overconfident nobody. Barely half of man. A boy with no shadow.

He’d heard the hope. Relief perhaps—can’t remember the exact tone that Kayn had used. What a fool. His rage continues to grow. He wants to hurt this insolent human. So, he claws his way back into Kayn’s mind. It’s well past midnight and the boy is trying to rest. Rhaast will make sure he doesn’t. 

“How did it die then?” He asks, trying to dig up old wounds. Scratch off scabs till they’re bloody.

Kayn stirs. Rhaast watches as his grip tightens on the scythe’s hilt. He always keeps Rhaast close, even when trying to sleep.

“I don’t know,” He finally says, loud in the night. “I barely remember.”

Rhaast scoffs. “Did it hurt?”

Kayn’s tired confusion washes over their connection. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” 

The boy sits up, irritated now. His hair is unbraided and it hangs down across his bare shoulders. He looks soft, sitting there on his cot. At this hour, everything seems to lose its sharpness. 

“What happened to yours?” Kayn twists the ends of his hair idly. 

Rhaast laughs, raspy in the back of the boys mind. “She is still with me. Even the way I am, I can feel her by my side.”

Kayn pulls his legs up towards his chest. He rests one arm across his knees while his fingers tap against Rhaast. The mountain wind howls outside, gusting against the walls of the monastery.

“Prove it,” he says after a minute.

“Prove it?” The darkin echoes in disbelief. 

Kayn’s pale eyes flash. “Show me.” His words are an order but Rhaast can hear the barest plea hiding underneath. It is enough for him to dissect the colors of the boy’s mind. Exploit his weakness.

“Why?” He snaps heatedly. “So you can find comfort in someone who is ‘like you?’ We are not alike. You are just a means to an end. Accept the fact that you will always be half of what you should be, because you will—” There is a growl rolling through his words. He wants to twist his blade in the human’s weak mind, inflict as much hurt as possible. “—never—-have what I have.” 

Kayn is silent. He leans his cheek on his knee. 

“Maybe once I crush your mind between my claws you’ll find your daemon again,” Rhaast adds cruelly.

His perception of the world is suddenly dulled as Kayn takes his hand off the weapon’s hilt. It’s far harder to glean the human’s emotions now so he watches his expression for some sort of reaction. Perhaps teary eyes or a quivering lip if he’s lucky.

But Kayn’s expression remains even. He lifts his head and stares back at Rhaast, borderline arrogant. Something uneasy slithers into Rhaast’s mind. He’d been expecting some sort of reaction, hoping for anger or sadness or pain. Not this. 

“You’re not going to win against me,” Kayn speaks up, every word slipping out one by one. Cold. Colder than the north wind beating against the outside of the rocky monastery. “I knew from the moment I found you.”

Rhaast snarls. “So confident—” 

“And you know why?” Kayn cuts him off, voice raising slightly, his tone still blusteringly calm. Every word is flat and now Rhaast realizes it’s on purpose. He is effectively shut out from understanding what Kayn is feeling right now because of the lack of contact. He will get no reaction.

“No matter how much pain you try and cause” the boy continues. Rhaast doesn't want to listen anymore. He doesn’t care to hear it. “It will never—” Kayn’s mask slips, voice cracks.  “—hurt as much as it did when I lost my daemon.” 

Rhaast falls quiet. For some reason, strangely, he feels like he’s crossed some unseen boundary. Stepped too close to hear something that was better off left rotting. Kayn leans his head back on one of his knees, this time facing away, and Rhaast immediately wishes he could see his face. 

“I don’t remember what she looked like. Or what her name was,” Kayn tells him. Is his voice trembling? Rhaast can’t tell. “But I remember what it felt like.”

He listens. Can feel his own daemon faintly in his consciousness. Rhaast knows why this feels so strange. In all his milenia this is a story he has not heard before. The technology for complete intercision simply hadn’t existed back then. People died without their daemons.

“It felt like they cut out my heart. Even now I can feel the empty space she was supposed to fill.” A whisper. Kayn’s voice is growing quieter and quieter. Rhaast wonders if anyone else has heard this, or if this confession is only for him. 

Kayn finally looks at Rhaast. He isn’t crying. No, he’s imperious. Rhaast’s not sure he’s ever been so looked down upon. 

“You will never understand what that feels like.”

Rhaast doesn’t know what to say. How would he respond to that? Something revolting—pity?—teeters dangerously at the corners of his mind. Kayn nudges him over the edge of the narrow bed with his foot and he clatters to the floor, helpless. In the brief moment that they make contact, Rhaast can feel Kayn’s ache, unearthed beneath layers and layers of careful confidence. It is devastatingly cold. An abyss emptier than Rhaast’s own prison. 

He retreats into himself, lets the disembodied comfort of his daemon wash around him. For once, Rhaast doubts his choice of host. This will be far more difficult than he’d initially thought.

[baconsoupforthesoul]

How Much for that Kitty in the Window?

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY INKSPOTTIE!!!! <3 This one shot’s dedicated to you and all the wonderful art and fics you bless us with! Henry/Alpha and Lyra belong to @inkspottie (obviously) and I hope you enjoy~

To say that Henry was only a little nervous would have been an understatement. While Henry was a nervous person by nature, the anxiety that often buzzed at the back of his mind was hitting him full force. Henry glanced around at all the little cages around him, wringing his hands as his wife chatted idly with the lady who ran the animal shelter. Lyra had wanted to adopt a cat for some time, but when she had first mentioned the idea to Henry, he almost had a panic attack right then and there. It wasn’t that he was afraid of cats, not at all. He was afraid of himself around cats. He shivered as a memory he had once forgotten washed over him. 

“Not now. Not now,” Henry muttered to himself, trying to shake off the feeling of holding a limp kitten in his hands and Joey Drew’s voice ringing in his ear. Even though the man was dead, the former head of Rapture Studios still haunted Henry in his memories, especially the ones he had regained of the time he had spent as the madman’s test subject. Gosh, how old was he when it had happened? It was hard to say, with how fast he was forced to age back then, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t have been much older than seven when Joey had decided to test how far his ‘Would you kindly?’ conditioning would go. When he had forced Henry to break that kitten’s neck with his bare hands.

Henry sucked in a deep breath, wrapping his arms around himself to keep from breaking down. It had taken all of his courage to come here with Lyra today. After he had told her why he was so reluctant to adopt a cat, she had understood completely. She had been absolutely horrified to hear what Joey had forced him to do, and she didn’t bring up the subject for a long time after that. But Henry could tell she desperately wanted a cat around the place, seeing her longing glances at pet store windows whenever the two of them were out together. Despite his reluctance, Henry found he couldn’t deny Lyra something that she wanted this badly. She loved him despite all his scars and supported him through all the trauma he was still dealing with to this day. This was the least he could do for her. Besides, he didn’t want his past in Rapture to define him. He could move past this… for Lyra.

As Henry was lost in thought, something small and soft tapped his arm. Henry jumped, taking a step back as he turned to see one of the cats reaching out of its cage at him. The cat had white fur with splotches of black that looked kind of like ink drops. The cat looked up at him, giving a soft meow as it reached out to Henry with its paws.

“Uhhhh,” Henry turned his head towards Lyra but she was still deep in conversation, not taking notice of his sudden plight. Henry turned back towards the cat and took a hesitant step forward. “Ummmm, hi there,” Henry’s voice shook as he gave the cat an awkward wave. The cat meowed back at him, its green eyes staring curiously at him. Henry spared Lyra another nervous glance before returning his attention to the cat. This… this was fine. The cat was still in their cage, there was a slim chance that Henry might accidentally hurt the little thing. Hesitantly, Henry reached out and lightly ran his index finger over the top of the cat’s paw. The feline let out a happy little squeak as it reached out for Henry’s hand with his other paw. Henry could feel a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he gently pets the cat’s paws, feeling its soft fur under his fingertips. 

“Mrow!” The cat meowed happily as it squashed its face up against the bars as if trying to stick its head through. Henry let out a soft chuckle as he slowly reached his fingers inside the cage and gently rubbed the cat’s head. He let out a soft gasp as the cat started purring with contentment, rubbing its head on his hand as he scratched them behind the ears.

“Did you find a friend there, Henry?” The smaller man jumped slightly, not realizing that Lyra had walked right up beside him. She gave him a knowing smile, causing Henry’s face to flush. Meanwhile, the cat meowed at him again, swatting at his hand with its paws, demanding Henry to continue petting them.

“Oh, I see that Spottie has taken a shine to you!” The shelter worker chimed in. “She’s such a sweet little thing. Do you want me to take her out so you can hold her?”

Henry froze, going as white as a sheet and looking like a deer caught in headlights. Lyra noticed his panic though and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’d love to hold her,” she offered, saving Henry from having to explain why the thought of holding a cat terrified him. The shelter worker smiled, completely obvious to Henry’s alarm, as she went over to unlock the cage. She gently lifted Spottie out and handed her off to Lyra. The biggest grin broke out on Lyra’s face as Spottie meowed happily and rubbed her head underneath Lyra’s chin. “Oh my gosh she’s so precious,” Lyra cooed, her eyes lit up as she held Spottie close to her. “Isn’t she the cutest thing Henry?”

“Y-yeah,” Henry replied, staring lovingly at his wife. Seeing her this happy filled him with joy, washing away his nerves and putting himself at ease. Gosh, how did he get this lucky?

As he stood lovestruck gazing at his wife though, Spottie turned her eyes towards him and began reaching out to him with her paws again, meowing insistently. “Aww, she likes you, Henry!” Lyra exclaimed, ecstatic that the cat was already warming up to her timid husband.

“I guess so,” Henry sounded pleased but unsure as he slowly reached out and began scratching Spottie behind the ears. “I don’t know why though…”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Lyra said teasingly, winking at her husband causing him to blush again, before turning back to the shelter worker. “Is she up for adoption?”

“She most definitely is!” She informed Lyra, looking pleased. “Did you want to bring Spottie home or did you want to keep looking around?”

“I think Spottie has already decided for us,” Lyra chuckled as the cat in her arms nuzzled and licked Henry’s hand. Henry looked completely overwhelmed as he tried to suppress tears of joy. As nervous as he was, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful about his and Lyra’s new furry companion. 

—

Despite having such a wonderful introduction, Henry was still a little anxious around his and Lyra’s new pet. Spottie had made herself right at home these past few weeks, but Henry could still feel his nerves coil up in his stomach whenever he looked at her. It was stupid and irrational, but he was still so terrified that he might hurt her. She just seemed so small and fragile. Henry wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything bad happened to her. 

Spottie seemed utterly obvious to Henry’s worry though and always seemed to be vying for his affection. Whenever he would walk in the door she’d always be right there, pawing at his leg meowing up a storm, demanding pets. She was so sweet, Henry felt like his heart couldn’t take it sometimes. He just wished he could give the kitty the love she deserved, not freeze up with nerves all the time. He had yet to even pick her up, he was so scared he might hurt her or drop her or something. Gosh, why was he like this?

One day though, as Henry was sitting on the couch, idling flipping through channels waiting for Lyra to come home from work, Spottie decided to take the initiative. Henry wasn’t even paying attention as the cat leaps onto the couch, stalking silently towards him. Suddenly, Henry felt a paw press into his leg and looked down to see Spottie climb onto his lap.

“Uhhhhhh,” Henry’s heart went into overdrive as Spottie stared up at him with big green eyes. “W-whatcha doing there Spottie…?”

“Mrow,” The cat replied with a soft meow, before curling up in Henry’s lap. Henry sat there, completely frozen, his eyes wide with panic. Oh no, what was he supposed to do now? He had a lap full of cat and he was terrified out of his mind. He didn’t want to disturb her, he was stuck until she decided to release him from his prison of cuteness. He could feel the soft rise and fall of Spottie’s chest as she breathed, completely at ease, unlike him.

Henry clenched his eyes shut, trying to fight off his rising panic. He…he needed to calm down. It was just Spottie. He could do this. Henry took a deep breath, slowly opening his eyes, before lifting his arm and running a hand down Spottie’s back. The cat purred with contentment, nuzzling further into Henry’s lap. Henry could feel his bottom lip quiver as he continued stroking the cat, feeling her soft fur under his fingers. Petting Spottie brought up another memory from his time in Rapture, but for once this one wasn’t traumatizing. He remembers feeling sick, unable to get out of bed due to the tests he had undergone when Norman had visited him with his pet dog. He recalls running his fingers through the dog’s fur, completely fascinated by something so commonplace on the surface. It had been a shining moment of happiness between all of his despair. For the longest time, Henry thought that he would never feel such happiness again. It was hard to fathom how much his life had improved after escaping Rapture a second time. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had brothers, friends, a wife, and now this adorable cat just laying in his lap, purring away without a care in the world. Henry sniffed, feeling his emotions bubbling over as the front door swung open.

“Darling! I’m home!” Lyra called, taking off her coat and shoes by the door. She strolled into the living room and stopped when she saw her husband in tears with Spottie laying in his lap.

“Lyra,” Henry choked, looking up to his wife with glossy eyes. “She’s purring,” he sobbed, scratching the top of her head, the sound of the cat’s delight filling the room.

Lyra held her hands up to her chest, her heart hurting from the level of cuteness in the room. “Of course she is,” Lyra murmured, sitting down next to her husband, wrapping an arm around him and rubbing the tears off his cheeks as he sniffled, completely overwhelmed with love. “Are you gonna be alright dear?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just…” Henry wiped the rest of the tears off his face with his sweater sleeve, leaning into his wife’s embrace. “She’s just so…. I never thought that I… I just can’t…”

“Shhhh, it’s okay, I know,” Lyra reassured him, kissing him sweetly on the forehead. “She is pretty precious, isn’t she?”

“You both are,” Henry pointed out, giving his wife a lovestruck grin, before pecking her on the lips. Lyra let out a soft giggle, holding Henry tighter as she joined him in showering Spottie with affection.

—

Henry jolted awake, gasping as he opened his eyes to his pitch-black bedroom. He lay there panting for a moment before looking over at his wife next to him. She was still asleep, thank goodness. He’d woken her enough times with him bolting up in bed screaming from nightmares. He must not have been as loud this time, as her soft snores filled the room as he tried to slow his breathing down. He couldn’t even remember what he had been dreaming about, he could just feel the dread swirling around in his stomach as his whole body tingled with unease. Well, he was wide awake now. Henry stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. He was tempted to get out of bed and do something but that might wake up Lyra. He wasn’t looking forward to lying in bed as his thoughts spiraled down the negative rabbit hole they usually did when he was left to stop and think. Henry had spent way too many nights contemplating everything that was wrong with him, wondering when all the happiness he had gained would all just slip through his fingers.

As Henry felt his thoughts already taking a headlong dive into depressing what-ifs, he felt something soft bat at his face. He blinked and looked over, squinting at the small dark shape on the bed next to him.

“Spottie?” He said groggily, trying to keep his voice down so as not to disturb his snoozing wife. “What are you up to? It’s…” Henry glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. “It’s four in the morning Spottie. It’s too early for me to feed you.”

“Mrow,” Spottie mewed softly, tilting her head at him curiously. She leaned forward and gently licked the tears Henry hadn’t even noticed were falling down his checks.

“Spottieeee,” Henry whined, gently pushing the cat away slightly. “That tickles,” Henry half laughed, half sniffled. “Come on, I don’t wanna wake Lyra.” Spottie merely meowed in response, ignoring Henry’s protests as she padded forward and climbed onto Henry’s face.

“Spottie,” Henry hissed softly, trying to keep his voice down as his cat walked all over him. “What in the world are you-?” Spottie cut Henry off with another meow as she curled up around the top of Henry’s head, using her owner like a pillow. Henry lay there for a moment, feeling the soft vibrations as Spottie purred next to him. Was she… comforting him? Henry sniffed and wiped the moisture from his eyes. “Thanks, Spottie,” Henry murmured, reaching up to scratch her behind the ears as the cat nuzzled closer to him. Henry let out a contented sigh before shutting his eyes again and letting Spottie’s purrs lull him back into sleep.

The next morning, as Lyra woke up with a stretch and a yawn, she looked over to see her husband peacefully asleep with their cat curled around his head. She had to suppress a delighted gasp as she slowly slid out of bed. She quickly but quietly scurried out of the bedroom to find her camera. She was determined to preserve this moment of adorableness forever, as Henry and Spottie snored away in bed, completely oblivious.

[doppelgangerjoelle]

Of Gods and Men

I got an idea last night and ended up writing 2K words but then I didn’t want to write a whole long fanfic leading up to it (this is basically the end) so I’m just gonna give you a quick synopsis and what I wrote. The summary spoils the writing so read it before or after, I don’t care. I don’t have time to make this a whole fic at the moment. it’s soukoku and get’s slightly naughty at the end but not too much

Context: Chuuya is contacted by the gods asking him to return to their realm as a calamity deity required to complete the cycle of life. They offer to return the power to it’s full glory. Chuuya learns the god that humans named Arahabaki was sent to Earth to bring destruction as part of a ‘divine plan’ until it was captured and sealed by humans. Dazai gets wrapped up in it because he has a ‘divine gift’, being the only one in this generation who can control the power of a god when sealed in a vessel, something humans took advantage of when capturing Arahabaki the first time. Essentially Dazai’s ancestor is the one who sealed it in the first place and the gods recognize the soul having reincarnated into him. The gods summon them to the celestial plane where Chuuya points at the void and yells at the gods. Dazai, who is still very much mortal, suffers under the power of the celestial plane and can barely stand the whole time. In the end it turns out Arahabaki willingly submitted to the ancestor and was sealed away so they didn’t have to hurt anyone anymore until the seal was broken. Arahabaki chose it’s vessel because he was a scared and lonely child. The Chuuya we know is really just Arahabaki without his memories (because Rimbaud had stolen then when he stole part of his power) and raised as a human, he was never separate from him. Making them realize gods and humans weren’t so different after all.

“What will happen if I accept your offer? I become a god again?” Chuuya shouted into the void. The ‘land’ beneath his feet did not move even as he stomped with his ability. The bluish white glow around them only shined a little brighter as his power.

“You will regain your true form, leaving your mortal vessel behind.” The voice responded, from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Right here? On Earth?! Where billions of people are living?! There’s a giant hole in the city where Arahabaki stood for mere minutes! And it was weakened from being sealed. Just how much fucking damage would happen if that came back at full power?!”

“The entire land where you stand would be destroyed, but it is necessary.”

“How much land?! The city? The whole prefecture?!”

“The resurrection of the calamity deity would likely return your island to the depths from whence it came.”

The color drained from the man’s face as his eyes widened as far as they could, jaw going slack. The man on the ground behind him shook, just as shocked as he.

“That’s almost two hundred million people.” He barely heard himself say, only speaking just above a whisper.

“On a cosmic scale, humans are nothing but specks of dust. Insignificant.”

“You’re comparing humans to dust?! Living, breathing people?!”

“Do you miss every rock you kick on the road? Do you mourn every insect you step upon? Do you feel guilt for each blade of grass cut?”

“If I were once one of them, yes, I would. And even if I didn’t, I know they exist so they are important.”

“You do not comprehend the scale in which we exist in. We are gods, humans’ lives are but a blink compared to ours.”

“Do you, too, not look small compared to something greater than you?”

The voice did not answer.

“Even the smallest insect has it’s own life. It knows the world is so much greater than it will ever know but it does not stop it from living. Just because we are bigger we do not deserve to live any more than it does.”

“You are one who has slain his own kind out of a lust for power and greed, and yet you speak of respecting the life of something less than you?”

“Yea, I know how it sounds. And I know what I’ve done is terrible, and nothing I do will ever make up for it. But there’s stuff I can do now to make people’s lives better and I want to do it. I don’t want to leave them behind when I know I can help them. I don’t want to leave people that need me.”

“Even when you will be helping the greater good of all existence?”

“You want me to be a harbinger of destruction of a cosmic scale, that’s not exactly the kind of job I’m looking for.”

“Creation needs destruction. As life needs death. The cycle must continue.”

“You want me to murder innocent people, including all other living beings, just to join your almighty party.”

“We are only asking you to do as you always have. Just because you are trapped within a vessel of flesh does not absolve you of the actions of the god within. Of the memories you have lost.”

“Will I get all those memories back? Who fucking knows how long of destroying everything so you all can rearrange it again however you damn well please? And what about my life as a human?”

“You will likely forget such useless memories. As we will forget this whole discussion. In the grand scheme of things, it is pointless.”

Chuuya scoffed, giving a half crazed, half defeated laugh.

“Do gods even have feelings? Do they know love? Do they feel pain?”

“We have no such need for them. We only feel pain through vessels when we walk the Earth, but we do not usually feel their emotions.”

“Then you could never understand. You could never comprehend humans, and hell, I’m sure bugs have more fucking compassion and empathy than you’re capable of! You say you created created us then why did you give us such “useless” things, huh?! Why let us have feelings at all?”

“We did not give them to you. You developed them on your own.”

“Then why didn’t you? In all your infinite years why did you never learn to care about anything? Is it because if you cared then you know you couldn’t just keep resetting all of creation? You couldn’t keep killing everything you ever made when it started to fall apart? Because you knew it was your fault.”

Once again, the voice was silent.

“Did you ever consider the ones that made you took all those feelings away so you wouldn’t make the same mistake they did? That even when you became corrupt and flawed they couldn’t destroy you.”

When no response came Chuuya inhaled a deep breath, air burning in his chest. When he exhaled smoke followed. When he continued he sounded surprisingly calm.

“You never told me why Arahabaki was on Earth in the first place. How does a god get captured and sealed by humans? Why, of all things, did he choose me as a vessel? I was just a child.”

Chuuya growled when the voice remained silent, but before he could speak again it finally answered.

“Pity. Perhaps even... mercy.”

“Are you telling me the god responsible for destroying things felt bad for the things it had to destroy? One of the beings with supposedly no feelings.”

“We were not given feelings. But neither were you humans. It is... anomalous.”

This time his laugh really did sound unhinged.

“Yea, most people get second thoughts when they have to stare into the eyes of something begging for its life. Especially when that something doesn’t understand that there’s a ‘big picture.’ I’m not even so heartless to feel nothing. There’s no joy to be had in murder, a fight, I understand. But death, no. There’s no meaning in death. You say life can’t exist without death but why should it be rushed? Why should someone decide when it comes? Why can’t it just happen? Just like how learned to feel, why can’t we just let death come when it does?”

Chuuya could feel a long explanation coming, so with a sigh he continued before the voice could answer.

“Look, say I agree and give up my mortal body. What happens if Arahabaki comes back, looks what has happened after sitting pretty in my body for 15 years and decides it wants nothing to do with you gods anymore?”

“The being you call Arahabaki is not something separate from you. The flesh may be your vessel but you are one in the same. You assimilated with the human child whose body you chose, losing all memory in the process. Shedding the vessel will simply return your previous power and memories.”

“Wait...” Chuuya looked down at his bare palms. “Are you telling me I’m what happens if one of you is stripped of all your power and stuck in mortal flesh?”

“A crude way of putting it, but that is correct.”

“But I’m human. Don’t you understand that? I’m human!”

“We explained before that you-”

“No you don’t get it. You said you don’t have emotions, you weren’t given them. But I am one of you and I have them. We’re the same. We’re exactly the same but that almighty power or whatever just goes to your head!”

Watching Chuuya point to the nothingness, Dazai couldn’t help but smile. What did it even mean to be human, he wondered. What separated us from insects or gods? The strength of our bodies? The scope of our understanding? If gods could love as humans, then what really made us so different?

If a god raised as a human could feel anger and fear and jealous and love, then why would all the beings in all the cosmos be incapable?

Maybe they just didn’t want to. Because with all those feelings came pain. Pain and suffering, and on a scale unimaginable. In a life so long they would hurt so much they would become numb. And perhaps they would forget what it felt like to feel anything different. Perhaps they would make themselves feel nothing.

But then, perhaps, one day they would feel again, sparked by something so small, so seemingly insignificant, than they would remember it all again. They would look into their heart and soul and it would all come flooding back. And they would try to stop the cycle they once helped continue only to remember why they let it in the first place.

They would feel anger and fear again. And there would come the pain. And then one day everything stopped.

Nothingness. No emotion, no pain, no thoughts. A void. Only to be thrust again amidst panic and fear. The small things hurting one another. Their screams. And the pain, the pain came again. It roared inside and it roared outside and everything was covered in a black flame. But just as soon as it started it stopped.

Bright blue eyes opened as the sun shined above. The dust had settled, the damage done. Alone and empty, he woke at the bottom of a pit. Such a small thing, so fragile. Driven by nothing but instinct he stood on his feet, wobbling. Not knowing the vastness of the universe, the creature who he was, nor the person who he would be become.

All he knew was that the sky was such an utterly captivating blue.

And he smiled.

“I can’t believe you just yelled at a god.” Dazai said, stretching his arms above his head.

“Well, I’m a god, too.” Chuuya huffed. “It’s only fair.”

“Ah yes, what a wonderfully powerful being you are. So utterly ethereal.”

Chuuya scoffed. “Yea! I’m a god so you should start respecting me! I should be worshiped!”

“Oh yes, my almighty Lord Chuuya.” Dazai grasped Chuuya’s hand as he bowed. He kissed up the back of his hand. “I will worship you how you deserve to be worshiped.”

He only made it halfway up Chuuya’s arm before his head was pushed away, grip still firm on his wrist.

“I will worship you ever day and every night.” He brought Chuuya’s palm to his lips. “I will devote myself to you.”

The ginger simply rolled his eyes.

“Will it please you if I give my body to you?”  His tongue slipped between his lips to the slender fingers. “Will you accept me as your devote servant?”

Heat rose in Chuuya’s cheeks as well as his belly. He blocked his face with his free hand as the other was taken into Dazai’s mouth. He licked and sucked on each one.

“These hands are capable of so much destruction.” His tongue ran along one of his fingers. “I’ve seen you kill a man with your bare hands.” He took one finger into his mouth and slowly dragged it back out. “You could easily kill me. But you won’t.”

“I s-should...” Chuuya stuttered from behind his hand. His knees were shaking and he couldn’t help but notice the growing problem below.

“I would let you.” He kissed the palm once more. “I would be your willing sacrifice. Take my life as your own.”

“Can’t I just... do that while you’re alive?” He avoided Dazai’s eyes, unable to stand the heat in them. He felt the gasp against his palm.

“Chuuya!” He grasped Chuuya’s hand with both hands. “Is Chuuya proposing to me?!”

The red on Chuuya’s face spread as he gaped at the other, mouth hanging wide open.

“M-Maybe!” He desperately tried to pull his hand away. “If you get life insurance!”  

“Chuuuuuyaaaaaaaa!!!!!!”

paypal me $30 and I will finish this replicajoelle@yahoo.com (it will probably be a 15K fanfic)

[gaudeixcc]

Peloton news – Pride and prejudice

Deep breath. 

OK, here goes.

I am prejudice. At times, horrifically so.

There. I’ve said it.

I feel better. Marginally.

Society today is becoming increasingly intolerant of any individual who dares transgress the firming social lines of the protection of the individual. And if the individual is in any kind of minority group, then watch out buster, say nothing or have your very being besmirched for being an out-of-date and contemptible individual. Cast out of the society you circled in and forever damned as being a sinner amongst saints.

Last week a cable TV show announced the annual winner of the ‘Funniest joke at the fringe’ award.

Every year I read through the top 10 and smirk at the inevitable, but usual amusing and witty contenders. 

This year was no different. 

An example of the type of top gaggery comes from the 2017 winner. Topical, as it came at the time of a new release from the Royal mint:

I'm not a fan of the new pound coin, but then again, I hate all change

Nice. A gag that has both a slight play on meaning and it topical. 

This year’s winner was equally gentle in its bending of phrasing.

I keep randomly shouting out 'Broccoli' and 'Cauliflower' - I think I might have florets.

Now I read this at work one morning, and seconds later moved on with other things. A few days later and a casual glance at the BBC website and there was a follow-on story. This time Auntie Beeb has published an article about the annoyance that the Tourettes Society have felt at with this joke.

A prominent lady within the society voiced distinct disapproval;

“Humour is a great way of educating people - but not only is it not funny to poke fun at people with Tourette's, it's not even that funny a joke, is it?”

In the irony of all ironies, the Tourettes society were one week away from launching a campaign aimed at stopping the condition being a punchline in jokes. How d’ya like them fucking apples.

Now I personally think you’re treading a fine line by dictating what you can and can’t make jokes about. Clearly the old days of Chubby Brown and Jim Davidson are well and truly behind us. Humour used to belittle particular groups and minorities. It always left a nasty taste in the mouth. But not being funny because someone is in a minority group? Not such a clean-cut affair.

I find it almost unbearably funny taking the piss out of people who are different. People who don’t conform. Social groups are almost always driven by some sort of common conformity after all. Look at the Peloton. All centred around cycling and conforming to what that social circle deems acceptable.

Let’s look at a few examples of what happens when someone wanders off group alignment.

• JT rode a Cube FFS. And it was a triple! In the fullness of time he was nearly bullied into tears over that little faux pas

• RTA made the best repair he could to a pair of shoes that had given him particularly good value. Merciless haranguing followed

• Has Damo worn the famour winter ‘lobster glove’ since that particularly cold ride on January?

• Macca and the white ‘show the world your penis’ bib shorts. 

Now none of the above makes any difference to the enjoyment of cycling. But they all made a helluva difference to the enjoyment of cycling on that particular day (for 7 out of the 8 riders at any rate).

But this is the thing. Comedic highlighting of group norm differences within the group, gentle isolation, then regular revisiting of past errors affirms group identity. And, it actually re-shapes individual behaviour and brings it back to group behaviour.

An interesting point to ponder is this. Should the individual who made the brave move away from group compliance, continue to do so without giving a merry fuck, would the group then gently steer towards him as a standard? Would his own confidence and ‘don’t-give-a-flying-fuckery’ actually position him as a standard setter…one to follow…? 

It’s difficult to believe that the Peloton could, in some parallel universe all be riding about the place in white penis-flaunting bib-shortery… but you never know.

Thank fuck Macca is a social conformist is all I can think.

This behaviour however is inbred. It’s part of humanity. When it’s one of your own, it’s good natured and mistakes are to be pounced on with glee. They’re funny. And there is nothing quite as satisfying as being the first one to publicy spot a fellow rider’s error.

Outside the social group, the prejudices are all still there, but all sense of warmth evaporates. This is where my inner demons roam. This is where my critical and saintly eye turns on humanity from the comfort of my own stately glass house.

I have a broad expansive set of prejudices and as part of recognising who I am, I feel the need to unburden myself. Think of it as detoxing. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be a better person. More accepting. Happier, dare I say it.

So, in no particular order, here is a summarised list of some of the things that really hack me off about people whom I don’t know who have the temerity to be different to me.

• People who ride bicycles with the seat too low. Every time of see one of these hapless fuckers I think exactly the same thing. ‘Not very efficient on the quads that…. And you could do with dropping a gear or two. That slow cadence is making is harder that it should be.’ My gaze lingers for a few seconds whilst I mentally shake my head. Now what difference does it make to me that ‘random station commuter’ is going to spend exactly 8 mins not being as absolutely efficient as he could be? Answer? No difference whatsoever. So why do I feel slightly annoyed by it? How is this man’s seat height affecting my life in anyway whatsoever?

• People who ride by pushing the pedals with the middle of their feet as opposed to with the ball of their foot. When I see this, I want to see justice delivered instantly, preferably by the police using a taser gun to stop the offender in their tracks before then shouting at the quivering and prone floor-bound body to ‘pedal that fucking bike properly’ and then going about lesser police priorities. An overreaction? I think not. If I’m with the kids and I see this social travesty I point it out them. Seriously. It absolutely boils my piss.

• Now this one is perhaps my all time, most heinous of heinous crimes against civilised society. I mean, when exactly did some people revert to living with the apes in that great troop on the savanna? Have we forgotten millennia of tool-making and using skills? One of the very few things I might add, that genuinely separates us from nearly all living creatures on earth. When sitting in a restaurant or pub for that matter, and I see a mature homo sapien, who can seeming talk. Seemingly dress themselves in a manner compliant with social norms. Who can order food. Who can pay for food. Who can interact with waiting staff with courtesy and conviviality. But, who can’t hold a fucking fork like you are supposed to…! I mean for the love of sweet baby Jesus… you’re holding the thing with thumb and three fingers (pinky redundant)…jabbing it down like a fucking chop stick…. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Why aren’t your parents at this very second, beating you to within an inch of your worthless life at your inability to grasp and use the most basic of tools in not just the right way, but the ONLY fucking way to use a fork!!! When I see this, I just want to shout ‘WANKER’ across the table and over my salmon and quinoa salad. 

I had my annual BUPA health-check last week and no ulcer was detected, but I’m telling ya, it’s fucking coming.

This weekend I’ve been mountain biking with my eldest. I bloody love it. He bloody loves it. He’s new to it and the activity is nothing short of joyous. 

Yesterday we went over to Holmbury St Mary and into some of the well-established MTB trails. Second time round I had a proper go at ‘Barry knows best’, a long swopping bermy 3 or so minutes which is just fabulous for the 2 beginners alike. This time though, whilst absolutely caning it and trying to set a time which my son wouldn’t beat (he did), I properly stacked it. Half way down. Came down hard and narrowly missed a tree. Very lucky really to only have a hurty shoulder today. After the event we went to the local pub and had chips and a pint. (Well, I did. Jnr had chips and a couple of glasses of coke. It’s like the Tenants super for the young generation.)

Outside there were scores of pretty serious looking bikes and bikers. They all looked different, but oddly the same. They all conformed to this particular group norm. I could tell my eldest was a little wary of being seen as a beginner. Neither of us where particularly dressed to ‘shred the gnar’ or whatever the fuck it is Macca says when he’s talking MTB mumbo jumbo. 

I sat there and munched a chip. ‘Don’t worry about it son… I don’t care about them, we’re doing this and enjoying it. I don’t care what we look like. We have as much right to be here doing this as they do’.

Off we went, back to the car. I felt bruised. Jnr felt good following the Strava analysis. He’d come out on top. As we walked past a table of fellow diners I noticed the husband holding his fork the wrong way. Our eyes crossed. As I walked past I felt a sense of calm solidarity. He had every right to be there. Just as much as me. And if he insists on eating like a wanker, that’s his call. 

Celebrate the commonalities, not the differences. 

Hold that thought as the rag-tag peloton makes its way to France this year. Perhaps we will see more tolerance? (I bloody hope not).

Finally, for the first time in 5 years I rode with Clemo today. The Peloton’s favourite chippy and the most upright tax-paying citizen this country has seen has rediscovered his cycling mojo and is out on his bike.

Clemo and Amesy in Majorca fo G20?  For the fist time in this edition, I’m not taking the piss.

Ride safely mon fuckerettes.

Hoppo

[kedreeva]

I just got home from seeing Love, Simon in the theater, and I gotta say, my head is killing me from bawling my eyes out. I went in with the expectation that it would be a decent movie, maybe a little silly, maybe a little hurty, maybe a little heart warming, but definitely a teenage coming-of-age romance flick.

What I GOT was my still-beating heart ripped out of my chest and handed back to me on a plate made of validation. I basically had to sit there in my chair and try not to ugly cry so loudly it would annoy my theater neighbors, with tears streaming down my face and my entire body shaking as I watched young Simon receive the kind of absolute love and affection and validation from his parents that I wish I had been able to receive from my own at his age. He goes through everything and finds support from family and friends and teachers and eventually even from strangers, and watching him experience these things reached right into my core and healed something I didn’t even realize was still broken. I cried just from the sheer relief of seeing it.

My own coming out wasn’t spectacular. I never particularly had to when it came to my friends- we were all a little queer, some of us were a lot queer, and it just wasn’t a big deal. With my family, I’m not incredibly secretive, but they all wear pretty thick blinders. I’ve told my mom twice (once when I found her sobbing into a pillow downstairs at 3am about how she didn’t want me to be a lesbian and once when she started slinging mud on Facebook about how gays shouldn’t get special privileges like getting married and I threw down with her about it and reminded her that hey, I am a gays, I will not get married until all my fellow gays can get married) and I’m still not sure she knows. I walked out of that theater wanting to march over to my parents’ house and come out (again) tonight.

And back then, a long time ago, we didn’t have anything like Love, Simon. The very best we had was But I’m a Cheerleader, which had it’s problems and was only ever a small scale release (a little over 100 theaters at its height of release). I only ever saw it on DVD once, at our school’s GSA club, which I was attending without my parents’ knowledge and against their direct orders. Outside of that, the tiny amount of queer media produced ended in tragedy, because we weren’t allowed to have happy endings. We were barely allowed stories at all.

And all i could think through the entire second half of Love, Simon was that kids will have this now. There is an entire generation that will have this movie at the very least, and no one can take it away from them and it was widely distributed and greatly liked. I cannot imagine how many wonderful repercussions a film like this will have for the younger generation and I don’t have words for how much of a relief that is to me. To know there’s all these kids out there who will get to set the new bar here, starting with Love, Simon. I am so, so, so incredibly happy and relieved for that, for them.

After the movie, I got into the car to go to dinner with my husband and two minutes into the drive, he says to me: “So, they finally made a by-the-books Hollywood movie for baby gays?” and I had finally stopped crying but as soon as he said it I managed to almost yell “I don’t think I can talk about this right now” before I burst into tears and started sobbing so hard I nearly had to get off the road to prevent an accident. To say that I’ve been emotionally compromised would be a massive understatement. I had not realized how long I’d been holding my breath, but this movie let me finally exhale.

I hope that everyone that needs to will get a chance to see Love, Simon

[thevulcanbobdylan]

22 & 37 for Yet Another Writing Ask. Please & thank you.

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

I don't knowwww 🥺🥺🥺 Have you seen that meme that's like "getting to the good part of the fake scenario too fast and having to start over" - or the one like "the hurty part of my favorite song didn't hurt me enough"? It touches on that experience for me - can I just sit and watch Bill & Laura's kiss from The Oath on a loop? (How he slides his hands up her ribs fam I simply cannot) I can, and do, but AO3 makes it even better because it's like I can rewind back to that moment of hovering on the precipice and take the plunge again and again. The release feels good but the tension of its inevitability feels better, but you can't have the tension without the inevitability and that means it can't last forever. An endless supply of fic is the closest we can come to prolonging the exquisite tension.

37. Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

I feel like I need an option that just says "do you research" because the answer is... I mostly don't. So far I haven't written anything that needs much research, so I can fire off a quick google search to nail down some detail and keep writing. I am mulling over a new fic idea that will require a lot more upfront research, which is both exciting and intimidating, but it will be a serious learning experience for me

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Welp

Woke up this week to 200+ followers! Wasn’t sure how to react! I didn’t  think i was going to get 5 followers on a blog just for my writing let alone this many so thank you!

So I’m giving you a small treat, it’s a “trailer” (i guess i’d call it that?) for the story after the Broken Butterfly. It’s part of the Fantasy series and the reason it’s so special is because it’s the first fantasy story i’ll do with more then two parts. it’ll be a long multichapter story that will take a while to tell but i think will be worth it? (Charmy take out the question mark)(no, bite me!) Because i still plan on writing a few fantasy shorts and other stories in the mean time. Including a Sci-fi au i think y’all will like

Anyway thank you all again! here’s my trailer (can i call it a trailer? or is it a preview?)

He couldn’t stop shaking

Not out of fear but from excitement as he hung from the thick tree branch his little hands had latched onto. The Child wiggled around before pulling themselves up with some considerable effort, having to primarily rely on his unhurt leg to swing up till he’s finally sitting on the branch with a giant grin. “I’m so high up!!” He said throwing his hands into the air excitedly, “Dad! Dad do you see!? Do you see how high up I am!?” He said to the black haired yokai standing by the tree, “I’m almost as tall as you!”

Len chuckled, “Yeah look at you kiddo” even though he had been to the one who had helped the Child reach the branch in the first place. The Child put his hands on the branch, wobbling slightly until they were in a standing position. He put his hands out for balance as he began walking down the thick branch at a snails pace. Lens’ hands hovered at his sides, ready to catch him if he fell, but the Child was having too much fun to be deterred by Lenards protectiveness, “Careful kiddo.” He said

“Can I climb higher?!” The Child asked eagerly.

Len looked up at the tall tree nervously, “Not today kiddo.” Before holding his hands out to him, “Hop over.”

The Child pouted for a moment, before carefully turning to face Len. He shifted his feet around and braced his legs before jumping over the small gap between him and Len who immediately hugged him, “Atta boy!”Lenard said smiling at him in a way that took away the Childs disappointment as he set him on his hip, “That new leg brace Mickey made you is really doing  you wonders huh?”

“Yeah Yeah!” He said swinging his dubbed ‘hurty leg’ that was now carefully wrapped in a brace that his Uncle had spent almost a year perfecting. Not only was it far lighter then the one they had bought from the Healing Hut, but it allowed him to run and jump with almost no trouble. Course now Len spent most of his time chasing Him down, but to the Child that made it more fun (not the time outs that followed when He took it too far, he hated those) IT took a moment for Him to notice his Dad was giving him a big if thoughtful smile and tilted his head questingly   “you’re getting so big,” Len said as a explanation using his free arm to hug him closer with his cheek resting on His temple, “I can’t believe you’re only six. You sure you ain’t really thirty? Or fifty?”

The child giggled, “No!” Before bringing his hands up squish Len’s face in his hands, causing the yokai to laugh and gently pull his hand away from his face, ‘Alright alright don’t cut your hand on my tooth.” He said, “Today is actually very special, today is when we officially start training.”

“Training?” The Child tilted his head, “Like tumbling?” He was used to that. It was fun to summersault on the soft grass.

“Not exactly, it’s a little more to it then that.” Len said kneeling down and setting Don carefully on the grass, “I want to get you started on basic fighting skills, “

The excitement the Child had felt at the thought of tumbling gave was to nervousness as he dropped his chin to his chest and poked his fingertips together, “I-I don’t wanna hurt no one though.”

“I know baby boy.” Len rubbed his scalp  before cupping his sons face in his hand, using his thumb to rub the worry line between his eyes. The Child giggled lightly at the contact but kept his gaze on the ground. “You wouldn’t be learning these skills to hurt people, but to protect yourself. And you being safe is all I care about. So is that ok with you?”

The Child puffed up his cheeks in contemplation. He still din’t like the idea of hurting people, but Len was his dad, he was the one who took him in, held him when he was scared, sang to him when he was sad. If he though it was a good idea then, “Okie, cause I love you.”

Len grinned and rubbed his scalp again ,”That’s my boy.” He said, “Now stay right here ok?” Len stood up and took several steps back and pulling out a familiar wooden handle, with a spin and a flash his hookstaff appeared. “Ok kiddo, the staff is a weapon mostly used for defense. When we start again I’ll teach you some spinning exercises that will help strengthen your hands and wrists. Its one of the most versatile weapons because even if your staff breaks in battle, you can usually find a good substitute for it nearby. But my favorite thing about using a staff is that it’s a great way to fight people off without leaving long lasting damage.” He puts the staff in a wide hold, with both hands at atleast, he shuffles his left leg forward, thrusting the opposite end of the staff forward, “See?” Len asks, “This is a basic strike, even if you get to my level this is what you’ll be using if your’e ever in a fight.” Before taking his other step forward and bringing the other end with a thrust and a shout

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

A scream of terror coupled with a earth trembling thunder snaps Him back to reality. Half his vision is stolen by a a mixture of darkness, a icy downpour that seems content on bruising the hell out of him and a heavy fog that takes him a moment to realize is his own breath. A moment  later pain shoots through is stomach with enough force to double him over, wrapping his free arm around it as though trying to protect it from a  invisible force. Its only by plunging the object in his hand into the ground and leaning on it that he keeps from falling over completely. Desperate to offer his aching body some semblance of support.

His vision finally starts to clear  up and he realizes the staff  holding him up is unfamiliar. It is far heavier and metal and has a barbed wire end facing forward in a c-shape. Before He can contemplate why he’s holding it, a fear filled sob reaches him and reality comes rushing back in a unforgiving wave

The man in front of him is standing his with arms out, as though shielding the other man behind him who his also holding a small child to his chest. The man being protected has a large gash on his scalp that drenches his tattered clothes. Before He can comprehend what’s has them so scared, he finally notices the end of his weapon has the tangled remains of the mans shirt in its wire, as though it had been a  second away from piercing his chest cavity.

With a choked gasp, horror overwhelms Him as he takes several steps back, “I-I’m so-i’m sorry!” his vision is filled with bright lights, blinding him again has he rubs furiously at his eyes, desperate for reason or answers.

He gets both

What had once been a humble but fair sized villages is now in ruins, buildings crushed in as though a Child had stomped through with little to no regard for the life it could of held. He can hear whimpers and cries of pain around him, the hurried footsteps of people running away from the village

No not from the village.

He looks down to the weapon he now recognizes as a sodegarami to the family still cowering in front of him before covering his mouth with his free hand

He understands.

He is horrified .

“Run!” He shouts, causing the small family to jump,” Run! Get out of here before its too late!” With the grace of frightened ants, the family scrambles to their feet and hurries away. Glancing back as though to make sure he wasn’t going to chase them down to finish them. When they’re out of sight he allows himself to give a shaky sigh of relief and lowers himself down onto his knees to offer his body a semblance of rest.  Before a voice whispers by his head somehow far colder then the rain itself.

”Now now, I can’t keep having you breaking free my gargalmelly baby,”

Terror shoots through him as he spins around swinging his weapon to aim directly at the intruder.  What at first simply appears to be a shadow slowly takes from as the rain parts away from it. As though natures itself is too scared to touch the queen. Judging by her wrinkled nose the Matriarch is more concerned with his appearance then to the weapon aimed at her “And just look how filthy you are now. I’ll have to tell the maids to scrub you down when we return to the castle,” The Queen looks back to the remains of the village and its devastation, “I will say this you do make quick work. But on second thought, perhaps this isn’t the place I want my vacation castle.” She gives out a pained sigh as though reflecting on all the work she put into this ‘project’ “Oh well it was far too good for the likes of those tax dodgers anyway. I”ll find something to do with it.” She says, taking a few steps forward as though there was a floor of glass blocking her perfect shoes from being dirty.

“You-“ He is only now aware of how thirsty his is as he desperately tries to wet his cracked lips. It feels as though his entire body has been deprived of everything it needed to function properly, but he glares after the Queen, “You made me attack a village of innocents just so you can have a vacation home!?” He asks

“Now now don’t get in a tizzy, I can’t have a Prince who gets so upset so easily,” She shakes her head solemnly ,”These ,after all, are criminals. They’re dirty, weak, Ugly,  and don’t deserve mercy.” Big Mama looks off into the ruined village with almost a bored eye, “They had the nerve to say the latest tax increase was far too gargantuan for their little families to afford. But you know what I hate more then tax evaders?” She asks in her sickly sweet voice that makes His stomach squirm

He thinks of the family he had almost killed and screams in rage, grabbing his staff from the ground and plunging the tip into her chest. But before he can consider the consequences, theres a strike of lightning as the Matriarch herself appears in his line of vision unharmed, her now completely yellow eyes glaring  out from beneath her bands as tilts her head at him, “when my Princes disappoint me.”

A scorching heat fills His brain as he cries out. The feeling shoots through his arms and legs and his causes his left up to suddenly twist up his back as he’s forced to his knees, his face in the mud blinding his vision again. He hears her step closer and her disappointed sigh

”Looks like we have our work cut on you.  But until then, you have a job to do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, a darkness crawls across his vision. IT rings a terror of familiarity that makes his eyes burn before the darkness takes him completely

#()(#)\/(#)(#)

“Wake up boy.”

A strangled breath escaped Him, but the sudden reflex jerk makes pain shoot through his side in a blinding pain that makes him double over. The world has eerie white sheen to it as he struggles to fill his sting lung. The pain in his head that he h had felt previously has now spread to his eyes. He’s sitting on a chair he doesn’t recognize. There’s a cup of water in his hands that looks like  he’s been drinking out of it but he can’t remember. His hand comes up to check his chest only to find it tightly bound in bandages, through his blurry vision he can see a red stain at the center that only raises more questions then answers.

“What is your name boy.”

IT is more command then question. The voice sense a shiver down His shell that he can barely hide. It doesn’t help when the chorus of laughter joins in from his ‘visitors’ shoulders. Dark eyes glare at him from underneath his gold pointed crown, expecting obedience. He is not under any illusion that Draxum is asking out of genuine concern, but rather the same concern one would have for a favorite war horse,

Draxum expects a answer

No

His teacher demands a answer

“O-othello.” He whispers. It’s the only answer he knows to give, but he knows it’s a lie,  and that alone makes his eyes burn again, “My name is Othello.”

The Baron dips his head response, “follow Apprentice, we have a kingdom to save.” with a snap of his cloak, Draxum leaves the room. Muscle memory immediately has Othello on his feet following, his body is not the only part that just wants to lie down and give up.

His name is Prince Othello

And he is Alone

                                                       Look for

                              Do Not Go Gentle Into that Cold Night

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 101120

11 October, 2020

Dear Dad--

Lo, I am wounded! Haha, it’s not bad. I believe I have thrown my back out. I’ve heard of people doing this; guess it was time I tried it. I was just making the bed yesterday, and I went to straighten up, and my lower back said, “Hey, fuck you, and everything that you believe in,” and suddenly it got excitingly hurty, and I had to lie down. It remained excitingly hurty for the rest of the day and into the evening. I began to experience what I think were back spasms, as I experienced periods when the pain would come in repeated pulses. I still can only walk if I bend way over, like I’m looking for something on the ground, which I’m now calling the “question mark walk.” Zach got some ibuprofen at the store this morning and made me take two of them quickly, because, I assume, he’s got to be getting tired of listening to me gasp and grunt in pain every five minutes.

And you know what? Despite my bitching about it, this really isn’t getting me down. I mean, it hurts rather a lot, but it’s just temporary muscle pain. I suppose I’m taking note of the fact that, as I get older, pain does not upset me as much as it once did. A sad television commercial will make me sob like a baby, but having pain that feels like you’re getting shivved in the prison shower once every five seconds is little more than just...a break in the routine. So I’m a question mark for a couple of days. As always, I assume this is further evidence that I need to exercise. I take it for granted that those who exercise and/or stretch their back a little every day experience this problem a lot less frequently, if at all.

I did two difficult things yesterday! Feels so good to have a difficult task, the conclusion of which is uncertain, and just knock it out of the park, doesn’t it? First thing was fixing my printer. I have a perfectly lovely Brother laser printer that I use for all my printing needs, and it prints very well, and I love it, but it stopped working not long ago. It wouldn’t feed itself paper. Fortunately, there’s a little panel on the front that you can flip down. Once you flip down the panel, you can feed the printer one sheet of paper at a time, in case the normal mechanism doesn’t work. It’s a nice failsafe, except it’s one sheet at a time. One thing I’ve learned since the invention of the internet, is that if you have a particular problem with a particular product, others have had the same problem, too. I went to the internet to find out why my printer couldn’t feed itself paper.

Turns out there’s a little white plastic dingus inside the printer. It’s like an arm, about two inches long. It has a hole in the middle where it fits over a post, and this little white plastic arm is made to pivot on that post, and serve some paper-feeding purpose. And because the good folks at Brother printers decided, in their tiny little black hearts, that the world needs more frustration and anguish, that little white plastic arm can just come clean off that pivot post and rattle around in there, uselessly. I guess putting an extra little dingus on top of the post to keep the arm in place is just too fanciful and esoteric a solution for them to have considered.

I found a website that explained how to fix it. I had to partially take the pinter apart, but only a couple of steps. I had to remove a plastic outer cover and another little roller motor that was clipped in place. Once that shit was gone, I could look straight at the problem, grab the little white plastic arm, put it back on its post, snap it into place to re-engage the mechanism, and put everything back together. Now it’s fixed. Here’s the new problem that creates, though: because of this sort of basic design flaw, the same shit can happen again at any time. Perhaps it happened this time because we threw the printer in the trunk of the car and drove 2,200 miles to Maine. Perhaps now it won’t happen again. If it does, I’ll be ready.

After that, I pretty much felt like Hercules. “I am the doer of all difficult things!” This was fortunate, because little Horta began emitting glitter from her butt again! (As a reminder, it’s not really glitter, I’m just calling it that to make it easier to talk about.) This was an indication that the tapeworm medication we gave her a month ago didn’t quite do the trick, and they’ve come back, never having been completely eliminated the first time. To stop the butt glitter, I purchased, at great expense, a teeny bottle with three pills in it to treat ...glitter. The first time we did this, we didn’t get the full pill into the kitty, because Zach added it to some food, and the kitty didn’t eat all the food. But she seemed to have eaten enough; the glitter disappeared entirely.

Yesterday, I was sitting in the living room trying not to think about how much my back hurt, when I thought to myself, “Hey, we just saw glitter again this morning, for the first time since that medication. Horta is asleep on the sofa. Sleep is when the glitter comes out. I wonder if they’ve definitely come back.” Then, to my horror, I realized I could see some, you know, sparkles on the kitty from where I was sitting. At that point, with the glitter, and back pain, and coronavirus, and election, and everything, I decided it’d probably be best if I just locked us all into the trailer and burned it down. But I quickly rejected that idea! We had two of the expensive anti-glitter cat pills left, I just needed to give one to Horta. And I needed to make sure she took the whole pill. This meant I couldn’t add it to food, I had to stick it in her adorable little face and make her swallow it. This automatically made it a much more regrettable task than the printer repair. The printer doesn’t struggle and cry out in anguish because it thinks you’ve turned into a monster that’s force-feeding it poison.

And Horta is a little tube of muscles, all liquid and powerful, with way too much energy than she could ever use, so she put up quite a fight. First attempt went perfectly, in terms of me doing everything I should have done, except I didn’t put the pill far enough down her throat, and she just “Ptui!” spit it out. The second attempt was even less effective, because the kitty knew what to expect from me, but I failed to anticipate how much reaction to expect from the kitty. So basically that was the worst possible outcome. Kitty is now freaked, the pill is getting soggy and gross, and I’m obviously the worst kitty daddy in the known universe. At this point, I decided to just “man up” and make her take the pill, resistance be damned. I grabbed her as kindly but firmly as I could, opened her mouth, put the pill as far back as I could, closed her mouth, and massaged her throat, and (veterinarians say to do this) I blew air into her nose. They say blowing in a cat’s nose will trigger it to swallow. I think that’s about as likely as blowing in a cat’s nose making it give a lecture on jazz history, but I swear, it all seems to have worked. I got the pill into the kitty, and did not see it come back out. I immediately gave her treats, in case it didn’t go all the way in, to help shove the pill through.

Success! No more glitter. And since I was able to give her the whole pill, I’m hopeful that it will end the glitter permanently. If not, we have one more pill.

That’s my life for the past week. Back pain, cat glitter, and using my middle-class ingenuity and resourcefulness to solve a broken printer problem. Now I can continue on the movie guide! I’ve completed The List, my list of 61 scary movies which I’ll now tinker with to finalize, and write about. I’ve written the introduction, and I’m working on editing and improving it. I’ve begun writing a few of the entries, and since this is the meat of the book, I’m working on making them informative and humorous. Lots of editing and rewriting. What the hell, if I’m going to write this book, I might as well make anyone who picks it up want to keep reading, right? I want to be proud of this thing when I’m done with it. Then I’ll be in a better place from which to demand that publishers throw money at me for the privilege of publishing it. Then I get rich, and buy us all islands in the Bahamas.

More next week! All my love to you both!