#literally straight away by WHY SO SERIOUS AND EVERYBODY which was followed by VIEW like these guys live to keep us on our toes it is their

[acebytaemin]

if everyone’s making such a big deal out of hard ‘not sounding like shinee’ imagine how people of today would’ve reacted to ring ding dong LMAO

[secretbangtnn]

Best Of Me| Two

Pairings : →ot7 x reader, poly!BTS x reader

Genre : → vampireau, yandere!au, age gap, gore, obsessive behavior, ddlg/caregiver, poly, fantasy, supernaturals

summary : It’s quite unusual to find a little baby on your doorstep, especially that their area was not of the poorest - you could say that a vampire town was efficient with money and snobby creatures. However over time the first idea of just giving back the little girl seems more and more radical and those moody vampires slowly start perceiving deeper feelings to human they even wanted to kill.

previous | next

notes ~ I did it!!! Omg im so happy I finished it, hopefully the next one are going to come sooner. The first chapters are going to be with a baby oc - im sorry if its boring, but after it we can start with the real plot, the things are gonna get dark. Hope that you will like it, and remeber to give me some feedback - im whore for a comments and ask and beside they motivate me very much

taglist :

@missseoulite @gukkculture @silscintilla @the-falling-star @apollonshootafar @mwitsmejk @lovinggalaxies @b-e-t-x-s-o @jisoosbitch @ariverflowsonthemoon @maboiisuga @peachescream1723 @sichajeon

Cries everywhere. Sobbing so loud that all the birds disappeared from their little birdhouse outside the window. And as funny the view was, a big ball of stress and nerves started collecting itself in the rather calm manor. Reason of all this mess was just one, so easy to notice.

“Jungkook!” Just like a ball of nerves now the big ball of dirty blankets and clothes hit the young vampire, making him stumble a little. Obvious disgust on his face with a piece of distaste on his tongue which just a second ago had been caused by the same thing he now fisted in his hands.

“You didn’t have to throw it at me!” Barked Jungkook staring at the broad shoulders of his oldest brother. Child now a little calmer, however still sobbing slightly, keeping the atmosphere at bay.

“You have brung the kid so you will hold the things he made. Be happy that I'm not forcing you to change the diaper instead.”

Disgust on all of their faces is now being something normal, having kids in the same room as them, definitely does not go well with hundred years old vampires. The only one without a gag reflex seems to be Seokjin, acting like a pro mother, just after her 3rd pregnancy with the next on the road. However all of them agreed with the statement that it was all but Jungkook's fault, which came with consequences for said boy.

Thus now sitting on the couch, five of the ramaing vampires, looked with a bored expression at the panicked and nearly vomiting jungkook. Youngest of them always had a soft stomach, never being the one to clean after disasters, forcing people to basically clean after him, and maybe that's why all of them felt such a satisfaction upon them while staring at the shitty situation.

Literally shitty.

Stumbling a little from the intense smell, Jungkook started to try getting rid of the used diaper in his hands, holding it with his fingers dingling it as far from his face as he could. Maybe the smelly object was not the only thing that should be named like a feces, knowing that a person who should just throw the diaper away, purposefully walked closer than intended to a couch with older vampires, stumbling not that accidentally and making the thing in his hand fly straight to a lap of a reading Namjoon.

A moment of silence, only lasting for a short second. Namjoon was never the one to shout or get mad, rather prefering to act calm and well put together, believing in a peace making and solutions not requiring usage of violence but when the heavy baggage on his lap suddenly started to warm his lap, he completely crushed his persona as well as book in his hands.

“Ups...hehe.” Jungkook laughed awkwardly, knowing well his fate. Doe eyes looked at the tall man, standing a little farther than him, just behind the couch. Jaw tightened so were the hands, keeping the last strings of calmness that were floating on very dangerous water.

“Listen, before you actually do something think of the time when you destroyed my ps4 and

I did not even complain.” Hands just before him similar to the way you would to with a wild animal, and in Jungkook's opinion, it was not that far from the truth, observing how Namjoons jaws nearly crushed from the tension.

“Okay okay, we all need to calm down, It was just an accident.” Cut in red head, standing in the middle of the war zone. It was stupid idea, definetly not the brightes of the sunny vampire, even if it came from the good intentions. Hoseok, just like an innocent child that got stuck in a big people argument, was the one that got hurt in the end.

And everybody knew that when Hoseok gets mad it's the extremity that anyone in this room is scared to experience once again. There is silent agreement between the rest of the brothers that was made after one of Hoseok's outburst, promising that no matter what the devil can’t come out.

The apple of discord laying now upon redhead’s feet, innocent like a little kitten that just waits to be petted, but in this case it wasn neither a fluffy ball of fur and definitely not something that should be touched.

Silence so loud, banging in their ears with an uneven breath. Second after second, rest that were not included in the middle, counted sitting on their heels with nerve wracking feelings.They stared as Hoseok’s shoulders rose and went down with each puff of air from his flared nostrils, neither of them dared to move, preferring to stay in a safe zone.

Just as red headed one wanted to take his first kill, a loud laugh echoed in a room, coming from a little child in Seokjin's arms, that probably just came back from being cleaned up. A fresh smile on its face, eyes sparkly looking straight at the scene.

“What are you doing, idiots?” Asked Seokjin, a visible vein on his forehead, sticking out under his free hand that now pinched a bridge of his nose. His eyes catching a glimpse of the used diaper, right on his favorite carpet. “You had one thing to do, one thing Jungkook.”

“It was an accident I swear on my ps4!” He tried explaining, shaking his arms. Seokjin saw to much lived too long to believe it, everybody knew it but even than they acted like bunch of idiots when something like this happen.

“Namjoon destroyed it, you said it yourself.” Spoke Jimin, sitting on a couch with a happy smile, pleased with himself. Younger's head immediately halted in his way, a look of betrayal on his face.

“You midge…”

“I don’t care, just clean it up, in the meantime me with the little snack are going to cook something, right my little cutie?” Cuted the older while caressing the child in his arms, turning his voice in a baby one. And just like this the scene came to the same point, the only difference was that neither Namjoon or Hoseok were in the room, probably running away as fast as Sekojins came.

Jungkook sighed, squatting down to take care of the said thing. Again the disgust and a feeling of nausea hitted him with a side giggles of his blonde haired brother.

Going into the kitchen he spotted the child that looked at him as soon as he appeared. Little smile and sweet laugh, making him soft and mushy for a while.

“I hope you know that you gave us a big problem with bringing a human child there.” Seokjin spoke, not looking from a cutting board, himself to immersed in said action

Jungkook knew, earlier thinking of it like a mere action, something that they can get rid of as fast as a lollipop wrapper. But it was not, and now looking at the kid, he realized how his careless behaviour could weigh down not only on his family but the whole society of vampires.

“I’m-”

“Don’t just apologize, we need to take care of it as fast as we can, in the meantime doing everything to not harm it. If someone finds out it’s going to be a bigger problem, probably even straining the relationship with human - and that’s something we do not want.” Cuted older, in the end turning around pointing the sharp knife on Jungkook.

It was true, the delicate stattlement between those two societies is still new, fresh and hot, ready to burn anyone's fingers, anyones who is to carless. The today is a better world, something that all of the brothers know, remembering dark times - some of them being not older than mere hatchling then. World was a dangerous place to live in, vampires hunting humans, humans hunting vampires, a competition that never got settled, and they hope it never will.

“Try feeding it and come to the living room after you are done. We will discuss the next actions - good luck.” A little wink at the end, Seokjin wiped his hands off on the way patting the younger's back, harder than normally.

“Wait what?! You are not being serious right now, right?” Asked confused Jungkook, fastly turning around to an already disappearing figure. Cold sweat on his body as he looked at the smooth face of the older, that defended a flying kiss to his shocked self. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I can. But the human seems to take a liking to you.” And how absurd it sounded, the baby really looked at Jungkook like some god, sparkly eyes always following his bigger figure.

“Seokjin! Don’t leave me please, I can’t do it.”He whined, looking for the said man, to his luck he was nowhere to be found. It was going to be alright - he tried to believe in those words now clutching baby spoon, that he was sure they did not have, and a mashed food, looking more like dog food than actual meal.

His Eyes staring right into the sparkly and to obnoxious happy, making him even more irritated. In the end, Jungkook hated little children, being and acting like one himself

Little hands stretching towards him with a toothless smile on the side, getting bigger as Jungkook came closer. That was it, taking a big breath he come to the other side of the table - almost touching the stool where the human sat. Ready and determined to get the task done, treating it similar to a quest in the game, he took the little spoon with some of the smashed food, and started to get closer to the child's mouth.

And as the brothers again started to live their normal life, thinking that at least for now, everything is settled, a very obvious squeal shook the while house.

“HYUNG!...IT WANTS TO TOUCH ME! GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY!”

___

All of them now sitting on the couches and armchairs, taking nearly all of the space. Some of the observing the crawling baby with prominent couriousty some of them with disgust even fear, not knowing what future the baby will bring.

Namjoon although feeling the little distaste, knew or better had a plan with what to do.

Smile on his lips not reaching his eyes, however stumbling on the way of eye contact with some of his brothers.

“Okay so, definitely we need to do something with...this.” Said Jimin, look on his face full of distress and disgust resting on the child, that as if it knew of Jimin’s attention looked back full of giggles and reaching hands.

“That is obvious, we can’t keep human child.” Barked Yoongi, the one which rather prefered to stay quiet in those metters.

“Jungkook should take care of it, It’s not my fault he is to stupid to not question a left human on a doorstep.” Smug smile now on Jimin's face, as he gave the side glance to the said male, happy with triggering the younger temper.

“As If you woul…”

“Okay we get it Jimin, it was Jungkook's fault, but still it can affect us all, so try to be at least a little bit helpful or shut up” Interrupted Seokjin staring at both of them in turn. The oldest obviously tired of all of the drama, massaging his scalp, to relieve the tension a little. “Let's start one by one, any ideas?”

Silence, a loud silence throwing the tension to the already burning fire. Seokjin's vein once again appeared on his forehead, making Jungkook nearly knock from a terrifying sight of it. It was pulsating, green and bumpy.

“Maybe let’s put it back?” Asked the quiet voice, Sekojin ready to snap at the stupid idea thinking that some of the youngers don’t know limit of the unfunny jokes, only to find innocent eyes of Hoseok.

“That’s … well that is AN option, thank you Hoseok - keep it up. Any other ideas?” Seokjin’s hands molded into a thump, giving the tired smile to Hoseok, knowing of his still busing nerves.

“Why are we even trying so hard, throw it away i say.” Jimin mumbled while staring at the little child going his way, quickly putting his feet on the couch, scared of a chance of being touched by the human.

Tired sight left mouth of the olders, his vein fading a little - to Jungkook luck, and his hands now clenching his blonde lock. He was helpless, disappointed in his brother's ideas and intelligence. He was sure that, that was indeed an end, his family will be arrested for keeping human, and vampires are going to lose a peace they fighted for.

Everything because Jungkook wanted to take unfamiliar child to their house.

“What about the orphanage that opened like one month ago, can’t we just leave it there?” Cuted Namjoon, making everyone snap their head. Seokjin nearly crying, wanting to kiss his brother as much as choke him for his slow process of thinking.

“Couldn’t you say earlier?!

[beepboop358]

How I think the characters will react to Byler when it is officially officially confirmed in the show:

El: once El realizes she doesn't romantically love Mike, she will become an avid byler protector.

El is a badass independent woman with a pure heart of gold. She cares deeply for Mike because he was the first person to show her any sort of compassion, so she will want him to be happy, and after she grows closer to Will, she will want Will to be happy too. El won't understand the societal stigmas around Mike and Will liking each other, since she was raised in a lab away from society and then lived isolated in Hopper's cabin, she has no knowledge of what society deems right from wrong surrounding sexuality and love. She will think other people thinking Mike and Will's relationship is 'wrong' or 'unnatural' is utter bullshit and completely stupid, as she should!

Jonathan: he will be 100% supportive. He knows how Lonnie tormented Will and made homophobic remarks about Will being gay when he was younger. He has always encouraged Will to be himself and ignore what others say, especially what Lonnie says. Jonathan will also be a byler protector.

Jonathan knows Will isn't "normal", he even said Will was "good at hiding" in s1 which has several meanings, and he probably already knows Will likes Mike because of how he immediately turns to look at Will after Mike blurts out he loves El in s3 in Hopper's cabin.

s1 ep. 2: "He's trying to force you to like normal things, and you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed too."

s2 ep. 1: "No I'm serious. You're a freak. But what? Do you want to be normal? Do you wanna be just like everybody else? Being a freak is the best. I'm a freak. Who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers? Exactly. It's no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?"

------(Some subtle queer coding there with the Bowie reference; David Bowie was a bisexual musician, and he also sings the original version of the song "Heroes" that plays after Will's fake body is found in s1, and the lines that play while Mike cries and hugs his Mom are extremely queer coded: "And we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.")

Nancy: It's implied Nancy and Mike are pretty close, and honestly I think she has always suspected that Mike has a little thing for Will. From the look on Nancy’s face when he blurts out he loves El, it kind of reads as like she doesn’t believe him, because she knows something.

s1 ep.7: "I knew you were acting weird, I just, I thought it was beause of Will"

Joyce: will be 100% supportive, and a protective mama bear of Will as always, but also for Mike. Joyce will join the club of avid byler protectors along with Jonathan and El.

Dustin: avid byler supporter. I think he's picked up on how much Mike cares for Will, how Will cares for Mike, and has probably suspected at least something this whole time. Dustin doesn't care about being considered cool he cares about doing what he likes and being true to himself, and that belief for sure translates into how he views his friends as well. He will absolutely support Mike and Will and treat them normally.

s3 ep.3: "Instead of dating somebody because you think it's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around?" s1 ep.6: "Sometimes your total obliviousness just blows my mind"

Max: She seems pretty perceptive, so she's probably picked up on Mike and Will's 'special dynamics' by now, and we know she's definitely sick of how Mike treated El. She will be supportive of Will and Mike, but mostly she will just be glad Mike isn't with El anymore LOL.

Lucas: I think he definitely notices Mike seems to reallllyyyy care for Will, and that Mike doesn't act the same about El, although he claims too. I think Lucas sees through Mike's bullshit. Look at his smirking face and crossed arms when Mike frantically asks where Will is in s2:

and how he reacts the same way to Mike blurting out he loves El and "can't lose her again" in s3:

Hopper: he will probably want to kill Mike again.

"wait what?! so.. let me get this straight...all that time you were making out with my daughter, you were just...pretending to love her? You lied to her the whole time you two 'dated' yeah? And now you're dating your best friend. Oh god wait, I watched you tell him that asking him to be your friend was the best thing you ever did that night in the shed... Oh you little asshole!"

I can't imagine Hopper being homophobic towards Will and Mike, but I don't see him jumping up and down for them either. He will mainly be upset that Mike dated El when he was actually in love with Will, and not care so much that Mike is in love with another boy, just another person. But once he processes that El is actually okay, he will be fine with it.

Lonnie: is the literal scum of the earth! Obviously Lonnie will hate that Will is gay and dating another man. He will probably make some comments about how he "always knew it" and call Will and Mike homophobic slurs, probably at Will's birthday.

s1 ep.1: "He used to say he was queer, called him a f*g"

Steve: "Oh you two little shits are dating now? But I thought he was into the psionic chick? No? Okay, alright cool. Uh hey have you guys met Robin yet? I think you would get along, you know what I'll introduce you." Steve was so accepting of Robin coming out to him, there's no way he won't have the same kind of reaction for Mike and Will.

Robin: once she gets to actually know them and spend time with them, she will adopt Mike and Will as her gay sons and inspire them to be themselves and help them out whenever they need it. She will also pick up on the fact that they like each other immediately. If we don't get this pairing in s4 because of location logistics, I really hope we get it in s5!!!

Erica: she won't be homophobic, but she just won't care too much.

Karen: will encourage Mike to follow his heart, and like whoever he likes, because a relationship needs real love to survive, and she knows all too well what it is like to be stuck in a relationship with no love, and she doesn't want that for her kids, she wants better for them. She wants Mike to be truly happy no matter what, and she doesn't want to see him repeat her mistakes. Karen will be very supportive of Mike, and probably defend him to Ted.

s1 ep.2: "All this that’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just…I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I’m here for you okay?”

Ted: he won't be as much of an asshole as Lonnie will be about it, but he will probably make some snarky comments.

s1 ep.7: “our son with a girl? *scoffing*”

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 4

Welcome back! Hope you enjoy✨

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Violence, cursing, shouting, and fighting. No blood mention. Just broken bones and stuff.

2.1k+ words [originally 1.6k but I revised it and added more details!]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5 Part 6

Sensing another one behind me, I went low and struck his leg with mine, using his fall to punch his chin with my right fist this time, being careful to use a controlled amount of force or else the nerve I hit will result to permanent brain injury and can be fatal.

I got up, swift in my actions as I saw the guy with a raised baseball bat heading towards me from my left flank, and the other one from the right, fast.

On reflex, I leaned back, the bat that was aimed at me hitting his comrade on the shoulder instead. Guy's lucky, actually. He would have suffered internal bleeding if it bashed the side of his skull.

Four down, two to go.

I took my stance once again to ready myself. This dude was a foot taller than me, with muscles packed with raw strength, but even so, pale in comparison to Tai'chi's p—

Stop thinking that! Focus!

"Smash her head Dan!" The man behind him yelled.

This 'Dan' went straight to me with his bat raised with intent once more.

Breathe in.

Everything slowed down. I let my heart rate decelerate, my hearing sharpened, my sense of smell heightening even further.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over. Years of practice, days of pain from training, each motion engraved to my entire body with purpose. To defend not only myself, but also those who are looked down upon, discriminated and stepped on like dirt. My parents had always taught me to defend myself. Me. Don't get me wrong, my parents are good people, albeit wary of the other races in our community. But the moment I left the roof of my home, I knew it was time for me to defend someone other than myself. I don't give a damn about where we come from or what kind of blood flows within our veins. I will protect those who need protecting, and set anyone straight and down to the ground when they deserve it.

Breathe out.

At the last few moments, with my eyes still shut, I changed my form. I followed his aura and pictured out the shape that was drawing up to land a serious blow to my head. Dan is solid and heavy, but everyone has at least one weakness. And this guy is not spared from that.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I opened my right fist, right foot forward and relaxed my arms, my legs serving as a firm foundation for my upper body. With the bat inches away from me, I smoothly dodged to the side, using my palm to push away the hand holding the weapon and punched a vital pressure point right under his bicep.

I bent my legs even lower and struck the center of his ribs with my thumb, closing my hands as I jabbed his sciatic nerve on each side at the same time, both located in the middle line of the thigh between the groin and the knee. A solid blow to those nerve points will cause intense pain and shock to the person, along with a temporary immobility of the feet.

a/n: Self defense 101! Remember that dear readers♥

With the support of my left leg, I went behind the man, standing straight and proud. Calm, I opened my eyes when I heard his fall, staring right into the fearful ones of the moron that started all of this.

"Y-You- You killed them!"

Is he that dumb?

"Correction, I didn't. I knocked them unconscious is all. And the fellow that attacked me first? Well, he passed out from the pain of his now funny-looking arm." I stated flatly as I trudged to where he was standing.

"S-Stay away from me! Monster! Freak!" He stumbled, his ass on the ground and away from me until he felt a tree trunk on his back.

I scoffed and withdrew my knuckle dusters back under my baggy sleeve.

"You wanna know who the real monster is?" I stopped and held him in place with my scrutinizing gaze. He was trembling like a wimp at this point.

"It's you.

"You and your disgusting racist friends.

"You, along with all the people who view and treats anyone other than humankind as lowlifes and pests that are meant to be squished and eradicated from the society.

"No, it's you, and the ones who have the same mentality as you, who are monsters under the guise of a human."

I paused, not even blinking as I bore holes into his skull.

"I am human, down to every inch of my being. But unlike you, I respect and treat everyone, regardless of kind or gender, and to those who deserve it, fair and right."

Before I could continue, I scented new people coming into the scene. It was the teaching staff, along with the uni's guard.

Shocked of what they have seen, they turned towards me, angry, surprised, confused expressions on different faces.

"What have you done?!" A female, human instructor, looking to be around her late 20s shouted.

"Ma'am, if you would just let me explain—"

"You are hereby expelled from this institution, young lady!"

All the color of my skin left me as I heard the words I have dreaded even before I set foot in the campus grounds.

"Now let's not go straight to conclusions. We need to deal with this professionally AND properly Miss Holson. You are also not in authority to suspend this student." A heavily bearded dwarven professor, clad in a brown suit and Oxfords, told her off firmly.

"What are you saying Mr. Dulrik? Look at her! Look at this! She murdered students and oh my God, is that the dean's son?!"

For the love of— she blind? Why does everybody think I killed someone???

"Ma'am they are—" I was about to tell her but got cut off, again!

"Helpmehelpmehelpme!" He scrambled away from me and ran to the group of teachers and hugged the young instructor. "I don't know what came over her! She just attacked us out of nowhere!"

The audacity of this fucking bitch!

"Pardon me? Attacked you? YOU were the one who followed me out here! You and your" —I gestured to the bodies laying flat on the ground— " buddies over there!"

"She is lying! The orc was with her and and and—"

It dawned on me that I almost forgot about Tai'chi. My eyes widened, and I frantically scanned the area around for him. And there he was, standing by the oak tree, right where I told him not to move.

He seemed...irritated?

Oh no. At me?

"I have not moved an inch from where I am standing ever since I planted my feet here." He said with his deep baritone voice, turning to confront the staff. "What she's speaking is the truth. They were the ones who followed her here and attacked her, first."

"And how can we be sure you are telling the truth, orc?" Miss Holson replied spitefully.

Even the teacher, huh? Her odor smells like vomit. I mean, I knew she was...foul, but I thought it was because of the situation. Guess not.

Tai'chi did not respond. Instead, he moved to look at me in the eyes. His gaze, searching, but not in an awful way. Was he asking me what I'll do?

"How about we discuss this in the office, shall we?" An elderly professor spoke. She was wearing the university's formal teaching uniform together with black, flat, closed toe sandals. "And Miss Holson, please quiet down. As Mr. Dulrik said, we should not jump into baseless conclusions."

Miss Holson fumed and shut her mouth, holding the coward in her arms.

"Now then, Miss...?"

"Blackbell."

The woman paused. I caught a smell of surprise and... astonishment?

She cleared her throat "Well, then Miss Blackbell, please follow us to the Dean's office, along with your, companion."

Weird.

"Oh and Mr. Smith, kindly call for assistance and take the unconscious students to the infirmary to be treated and looked unto. Thank you." She told the guard. With that, she and the rest of the faculty started walking back.

I glanced at Tai'chi once more to find him, again, staring. I approached him warily, expecting him to be mad at me.

"Uh. Hi?"

I let out a long exhale when he replied, with a slight tug of his lips, his tusk jutting out. "Hi."

I fidgeted, trying to come up with words to explain myself.

"I uh, uhm. Are you mad?"

With his brow raised, "Why would I be?"

Yeah why would he be?

"I-I never told why I keep wearing my mask." I stuttered, "You see I—"

"You two! Start moving before I force you to." A teacher yelled at us from a distance.

"We'll talk later, Pearl. For now let's get this resolved first. I know for a fact that they won't expel you unless they ignore the ill intentions of the ones who attempted to harm you first. But better be safe than sorry, he was the dean's son afterall."

"Yeah... Thanks. We should.. go." I turned and started walking along his side.

******pov shift for a bit*******

Little did Pearl know, he was thinking about how...nice, yeah that's the word, definitely not sexy, you were when he witnessed your skills in combat. It awakened something in him that it took a lot of control not to get aroused there and then, which was the real reason why he stood there, unmoving from his place. Not once did he leave his eyes from you, almost jumping to help you when the guy with the baseball bat was closer than we would have liked. But oh no, he was not surprised, he was astonished and shookt , amazed when you pulled that last technique, sending the human plummeting to the ground almost soundlessly. And the way you stood right after, he knew he was smitten. That proud and intense aura you gave off was enough to make him bow down at your feet. He could feel it. He could smell it. That was his secret, he can scent people and catch any mood shift they make. Even though he told her that her eyes and brows gave it away, it was not entirely true as he could smell, literally, you and the changes on your scent.

Oh but little did he know you could to. Just not as observant as he is.

:>

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

Wow— when I copy pasted the original thing from my notes to my drafts in Tumblr I was like "okay, so. I should read it AGAIN before I post it if I wanna avoid more unnoticed mistakes and keep editing it again and again even though I posted it already! " And I never though it would lead me to adding almost a half thousand words and a pov shift— which i found interesting and really nice! Should I do it more often? Like little inserts of what Tai'chi or another characters thoughts in second pov in between fics if necessary? It's just, nice, to put them in and write all out about what they were thinking outside of Pearl's pov! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed reading❤

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[athenawrites-stuff]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 4

Pairings: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Violence, Fighting, Use of curse words, and shouting.

Word count: 1.8k + words

*

Sensing another one behind me, I went low and struck his leg with mine, using his fall to punch his chin with my right fist this time, being careful to use a controlled amount of force or else the nerve I hit will result to permanent brain injury and can be fatal.

I got up, swift in my actions as I saw the guy with a raised baseball bat heading towards me from my left flank, and the other one from the right, fast.

On reflex, I leaned back, the bat that was aimed at me hitting his comrade on the shoulder instead. Guy’s lucky, actually. He would have suffered internal bleeding if it bashed the side of his skull.

Four down, two to go.

I took my stance once again to ready myself. This dude was a foot taller than me, with muscles packed with raw strength, but even so, pale in comparison to Tai'chi’s p—

Stop thinking that! Focus!

“Smash her head Dan!” The man behind him yelled.

This ‘Dan’ went straight to me with his bat raised with intent once more.

Breathe in.

Everything slowed down. I let my heart rate decelerate, my hearing sharpened, my sense of smell heightening even further.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over. Years of practice, days of pain from training, each motion engraved to my entire body with purpose. To defend not only myself, but also those who are looked down upon, discriminated and stepped on like dirt. My parents had always taught me to defend myself. Me. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are good people, albeit wary of the other races in our community. But the moment I left the roof of my home, I knew it was time for me to defend someone other than myself. I don’t give a damn about where we come from or what kind of blood flows within our veins. I will protect those who need protecting, and set anyone straight and down to the ground when they deserve it.

Breathe out.

At the last few moments, with my eyes still shut, I changed my form. I followed his aura and pictured out the shape that was drawing up to land a serious blow to my head. Dan is solid and heavy, but everyone has at least one weakness. And this guy is not spared from that.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I opened my right fist, right foot forward and relaxed my arms, my legs serving as a firm foundation for my upper body. With the bat inches away from me, I smoothly dodged to the side, using my palm to push away the hand holding the weapon and punched a vital pressure point right under his bicep.

I bent my legs even lower and struck the center of his ribs with my thumb, closing my hands as I jabbed his sciatic nerve on each side at the same time, both located in the middle line of the thigh between the groin and the knee. A solid blow to those nerve points will cause intense pain and shock to the person, along with a temporary immobility of the feet.

a/n: Self defense 101! Remember that dear readers♥

With the support of my left leg, I went behind the man, standing straight and proud. Calm, I opened my eyes when I heard his fall, staring right into the fearful ones of the moron that started all of this.

“Y-You- You killed them!”

Is he that dumb?

“Correction, I didn’t. I knocked them unconscious is all. And the fellow that attacked me first? Well, he passed out from the pain of his now funny-looking arm.” I stated flatly as I trudged to where he was standing.

“S-Stay away from me! Monster! Freak!” He stumbled, his ass on the ground and away from me until he felt a tree trunk on his back.

I scoffed and withdrew my knuckle dusters back under my baggy sleeve.

“You wanna know who the real monster is?” I stopped and held him in place with my scrutinizing gaze. He was trembling like a wimp at this point.

“It’s you.

"You and your disgusting racist friends.

"You, along with all the people who view and treats anyone other than humankind as lowlifes and pests that are meant to be squished and eradicated from the society.

"No, it’s you, and the ones who have the same mentality as you, who are monsters under the guise of a human.”

I paused, not even blinking as I bore holes into his skull.

“I am human, down to every inch of my being. But unlike you, I respect and treat everyone, regardless of kind or gender, and to those who deserve it, fair and right.”

Before I could continue, I scented new people coming into the scene. It was the teaching staff, along with the uni’s guard.

Shocked of what they have seen, they turned towards me, angry, surprised, confused expressions on different faces.

“What have you done?!” A female, human instructor, looking to be around her late 20s shouted.

“Ma'am, if you would just let me explain—”

“You are hereby expelled from this institution, young lady!”

All the color of my skin left me as I heard the words I have dreaded even before I set foot in the campus grounds.

“Now let’s not go straight to conclusions. We need to deal with this professionally AND properly Miss Holson. You are also not in authority to suspend this student.” A heavily bearded dwarven professor, clad in a brown suit and Oxfords, told her off firmly.

“What are you saying Mr. Dulrik? Look at her! Look at this! She murdered students and oh my God, is that the dean’s son?!”

For the love of— she blind? Why does everybody think I killed someone???

“Ma'am they are—” I was about to tell her but got cut off, again!

“Helpmehelpmehelpme!” He scrambled away from me and ran to the group of teachers and hugged the young instructor. “I don’t know what came over her! She just attacked us out of nowhere!”

The audacity of this fucking bitch!

“Pardon me? Attacked you? YOU were the one who followed me out here! You and your” —I gestured to the bodies laying flat on the ground— “ buddies over there!”

“She is lying! The orc was with her and and and—”

It dawned on me that I almost forgot about Tai'chi. My eyes widened, and I frantically scanned the area around for him. And there he was, standing by the oak tree, right where I told him not to move.

He seemed…irritated?

Oh no. At me?

“I have not moved an inch from where I am standing ever since I planted my feet here.” He said with his deep baritone voice, turning to confront the staff. “What she’s speaking is the truth. They were the ones who followed her here and attacked her, first.”

“And how can we be sure you are telling the truth, orc?” Miss Holson replied spitefully.

Even the teacher, huh? Her odor smells like vomit. I mean, I knew she was…foul, but I thought it was because of the situation. Guess not.

Tai'chi did not respond. Instead, he moved to look at me in the eyes. His gaze, searching, but not in an awful way. Was he asking me what I’ll do?

“How about we discuss this in the office, shall we?” An elderly professor spoke. She was wearing the university’s formal teaching uniform together with black, flat, closed toe sandals. “And Miss Holson, please quiet down. As Mr. Dulrik said, we should not jump into baseless conclusions.”

Miss Holson fumed and shut her mouth, holding the coward in her arms.

“Now then, Miss…?”

“Blackbell.”

The woman paused. I caught a smell of surprise and… astonishment?

She cleared her throat “Well, then Miss Blackbell, please follow us to the Dean’s office, along with your, companion.”

Weird.

“Oh and Mr. Smith, kindly call for assistance and take the unconscious students to the infirmary to be treated and looked unto. Thank you.” She told the guard. With that, she and the rest of the faculty started walking back.

I glanced at Tai'chi once more to find him, again, staring. I approached him warily, expecting him to be mad at me.

“Uh. Hi?”

I let out a long exhale when he replied, with a slight tug of his lips, his tusk jutting out. “Hi.”

I fidgeted, trying to come up with words to explain myself.

“I uh, uhm. Are you mad?”

With his brow raised, “Why would I be?”

Yeah why would he be?

“I-I never told why I keep wearing my mask.” I stuttered, “You see I—”

“You two! Start moving before I force you to.” A teacher yelled at us from a distance.

“We’ll talk later, Pearl. For now let’s get this resolved first. I know for a fact that they won’t expel you unless they ignore the ill intentions of the ones who attempted to harm you first. But better be safe than sorry, he was the dean’s son afterall.”

“Yeah… Thanks. We should.. go.” I turned and started walking along his side.

******pov shift for a bit*******

Little did Pearl know, he was thinking about how…nice, yeah that’s the word, definitely not sexy, you were when he witnessed your skills in combat. It awakened something in him that it took a lot of control not to get aroused there and then, which was the real reason why he stood there, unmoving from his place. Not once did he leave his eyes from you, almost jumping to help you when the guy with the baseball bat was closer than we would have liked. But oh no, he was not surprised, he was astonished and shookt , amazed when you pulled that last technique, sending the human plummeting to the ground almost soundlessly. And the way you stood right after, he knew he was smitten. That proud and intense aura you gave off was enough to make him bow down at your feet. He could feel it. He could smell it. That was his secret, he can scent people and catch any mood shift they make. Even though he told her that her eyes and brows gave it away, it was not entirely true as he could smell, literally, you and the changes on your scent.

Oh but little did he know you could to. Just not as observant as he is.

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

Thank you for reading<3

I've already written Chapters 1-6 so stay tuned and check them out in my pinned post. Stay safe and healthy!

[wickedmilo]

THE SHARPEST LIVES | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Jericho Hill Cemetery TIMING: 3:49 AM SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli are reminded of the fact that you can never let your guard down in White Crest WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, head trauma tw, brief eating disorder mention

Metzli didn’t know how it happened, but they were completely and unequivocally drunk. Milo had met up with them for drinks, one turned into two, and two turned into six, and then six turned into, well, they honestly didn’t know. It was all a blur, and now the cold air was hitting their face as the two vampires giggled and stumbled about the streets. The idiots had a drink in each hand and couldn’t stop laughing at nothing.  

“Milo! Milo!” Metzli slurred, pointing and using his shoulder as a crutch for their staggering legs. “What if we went into that cemetery?!” They wheezed and fell over onto the ground, laughing uncontrollably. “Can you imagine?” They joked and managed to keep their drinks from spilling. Gulping one down, they threw the cup to the side, not caring if they littered.  

Milo was struggling to walk in a straight line, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t more than familiar with the sensation of tripping over his feet. He couldn’t remember leaving the club, he could barely even remember meeting Metzli for drinks, but the unnaturally cold air of White Crest was undeniably refreshing. The strange winter was lasting far longer than he anticipated, and he knew he should find it unnerving at the very least. But his worry was spent, and he would much rather focus on the way the chill felt against his skin, the way his lips burned, and his fingertips ached with the exposure. It was a reminder of the fact that he was alive. He was still here despite everything, and there was joy to be found in that. As if to prove his point, his company spoke, choking on their words as they laughed at their own suggestion. It took him a few seconds to truly register the irony, why two vampires getting drunk in a graveyard was even remotely amusing, but the moment he laid eyes on the signpost it hit him, and he failed to hold back his own laughter. 

Jericho Hill. He had never been the type to care about disrespecting the dead, but now more than ever he felt as though he had a right to claim the space as his own. He was dead too, wasn’t he? Everybody buried in the ground had died in some way. Well, so had he. The only difference being he had to face the trauma of his death on a near daily basis. His step faltering as Metzli continued to grip at his shoulder, he finished what was left of his own drink before throwing his cup down to meet theirs. “Wait-” He grinned at them as they almost dragged him to the floor. “Wait, Metzli-” He caught his breath, reaching out to clumsily pull them back to their feet. “We have to do it, right?” He asked, eyes shining with inebriated excitement. “I mean, duh- we have to do it.” 

“Yes, we have to do it! And we have to play this!” Metzli pulled out their phone to peruse through their songs until they found the perfect song. Since they were drunk as all get out, what should’ve taken mere seconds took two whole minutes of scrolling up and down. “I found it!” Dead! by My Chemical Romance began to play loudly from the speakers of their phone and they gulped on their last beverage, spilling most of it on themselves. Sober Metzli would care about the stains and overall smell of alcohol on their clothes, but Drunk Metzli could care less. They deserved to let loose. They deserved to forget everything and not have to deal with pesky people, or pesky emotions. 

With this freedom from problems, they blundered forward, towards the funniest place they could find at this time of night. There was nothing inherently funny about this idea, only the two vampires understood. “…and if you get to heaven…!” Metzli belted out the lyrics to the song as they pulled Milo with them. Ghosts could be seen all about the cemetery, some groaning in annoyance, others ignoring them completely. “Fuck you!” They yelled, laughing and moving on quickly to balance on a tombstone. “Shit, look at me. I’m not even drunk at all!” Which was wrong, and they promptly fell backwards onto their back.  

Milo waited patiently for Metzli to find the song they were looking for, his expression moving from one of polite interest to instantaneous recognition. My Chemical Romance had more than a few songs he enjoyed, but he hadn’t listened to ‘Dead’ in what felt like forever. The sound was tinny, and nowhere near as loud as he would have liked, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. Laughing as his friend spilled their final drink on their shirt, he couldn’t bring himself to tell them. Maybe they already knew. Instead he fished in the pocket of his hoodie for a can he had been saving, cracking it open, the scent of beer washing over him. It didn’t take them very long to reach the graveyard, following the sign posts, veering further and further from the lights of the town, and taking a long drink, he watched as Metzli hurried ahead of him, reaching the gates before he could ever hope to without falling. “Wait for me!” He called, walking a little faster despite knowing it would increase his chances of finding himself on the floor. “What?” He shot his friend a confused look as he approached the clearing, only realising they weren’t telling him to fuck off when he saw the handful of ghosts wandering the perimeter. Huh, maybe respecting the dead was going to take on a whole new, and far too literal meaning.  

Catching himself as the gate swung shut behind him with more force than he was expecting, he made eye contact with a few of the cemetery’s residents before turning his attention back to Metzli. “Definitely not true.” He countered, searching the graves for a perch of his own. Settling on a large tomb towards the centre he hurried to scramble on top of it, raising his can the moment he was standing steady. “Hey, we died too, okay?” He shouted, his voice reverberating through the trees. “And it was really fucking shit, so cut us some slack. We deserve to have some fun!” A few ghosts seemed to appreciate him addressing them, melting easily into the shadows to give him some space. Others continued to glare, or stare at him with a disapproving look he usually only saw worn by his parents. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by the sound of Metzli slipping from where they were balanced. A grin still on his face, he could hear them moving, blocked from view by their chosen grave. “You okay?” He teased. “You should be more careful, y’know. What if you got hurt?”  

The gate shut with a loud and metallic clonk! when Milo finally made his way into the cemetery. Metzli was impatient, and motivated by the chaotic music emanating from their back pocket. “You’re too slow! Use those vampire legs!” They beckoned, voice full of teasing and friendliness. Milo ended up being a lot of fun to be around, so much so that they knew this wouldn’t be the last time they hung out. While they could have deep conversations, Milo knew when enough was enough. He knew how to have real fun, real fun that distracts and pushes away the tidal wave of troubles that only seemed to keep accumulating. 

Teasing right back, Metzli flipped the bird at Milo and said, “It’ll take a lot more than a little fall to take me out. You wanna try and see what’ll work?” They teased, throwing a clump of grass at Milo’s face. A tinge of hope that he might even try filled their chest, but it quickly faltered, knowing damn well he wouldn’t. Channeling their energy into something else, they regarded the frustrated spirits, “Listen. We’re here one night. You’ll get it back! Just let us have fun. We’re just as miserable as you; we need the break!” Most of the words were a little hard to understand due to the slurring, but they didn’t care. “And you, get down, mister! You’re gonna hurt yourself, young man!” They crawled towards the stone and just toppled over laughing. 

“I’d still be clumsy,” Milo pointed out. “Just faster, which definitely means falling over. This is like some ultimate vampire reflexes versus alcohol bullshit.” Grinning easily to himself as he struggled to balance on top of the tomb despite both feet being planted firmly on the solid granite, he couldn’t help but figure the alcohol was winning out. “No, I don’t want to try-” He added, absentmindedly glancing back over to where Metzli was sprawled. He could see them busy with something, and it didn’t take him long to find out what. He sidestepped, only just managing to dodge the grass and mud that came flying towards him. Holding up his middle finger in response, he took a long drink from his can. The sooner he was done holding it, the sooner he could spark up a cigarette, and his body was calling out for nicotine. When he was finally finished, he searched the darkness again for his friend. He had a suspicion they were serious about him trying to kill them, and it was an unnerving reminder of the fact that they had given up their soul. Even though he had no desire to let that part of himself go, he couldn’t help being curious about how it felt. How much of a person did it change?  

His eyes shining as he was pulled out of his thoughts by Metzli’s voice, he listened to them address the lingering ghosts. Some of them still glared disapprovingly, but no doubt it was becoming clear they wouldn’t be able to drive away two vampires with stares alone. “Isn’t misery supposed to love company?” He asked, laughing at his own joke. Maybe it was unfair to laugh about the dead being unhappy with their situation. But he was unhappy with his own situation, and he was here to have a good time. If anything, the ghosts could learn a thing or two about having fun. Nobody was forcing them to avoid the party. “No, ‘m fine!” He said, petulantly kicking a small stone towards Metzli. “You’re not the boss of me, and I like it up here.” Glancing down at the stone beneath him, he regretted not trying to read the inscription on the side of it. “I wonder who this guy is. I mean- whoever it is makes for a kick ass viewing platform.” Laughing as he shuffled to the edge, looking down to where Metzli was crawling closer and closer, he waited until the most opportune moment to tip his can and spill beer directly over them. “Shit, I’m sorry- I didn’t see you.” His tone, and expression made it incredibly clear just how untrue that statement was. 

The world continued to spin and blur, like a nonstop roller coaster. Only, Metzli wouldn’t regurgitate any of the contents in their stomach, they’d simply keep up their antics with optimal visual and physical contingencies. “Yeah! Let miserable assholes keep you company!” Sobriety was nowhere in sight as their slurred words traveled through the cemetery. Laying on the ground was nice. It provided safety from faking and a cool was to their back. That safety was interrupted though, when Milo spilled beer all over them. “Hey! Asshole!” But they didn’t bother getting up. Just laying there, they flipped Milo off and rolled their eyes.  

“You’re annoying. I never should’ve saved your ass. Wouldn’t have to deal with this shit!” The music in the background went from Dead! to This is How I Disappear. While Metzli could always enjoy classical music, there was always a place for punk rock in their heart. Their cold, dead heart. The heart that could never give love or care. Nor could it receive it. At least not by being worthy of it.  

A shuddered breath could not be suppressed, and was made obvious by the visible air. Metzli frowned petulantly at their display of internal frustration. Now wasn’t the time for soul nonsense. Now was the time for, “Holy shit, more alcohol!” They said, pulled a flask from their shirt pocket. “Totally forgot I brought backup! Hey do you wa…” Words trailed off into oblivion as they spotted a dark figure hiding in the shadows.  

Listening to how Metzli slurred their words, Milo knew he wasn’t far behind them in terms of inebriation. Lucky for him his week long binge with Alex had managed to raise his tolerance, either that or his friend had been sneaking shots when he wasn’t looking. Either was possible, if he was being entirely honest. Still looking down at them he laughed when they raised their middle finger in response to the beer, it seemed the gesture was their most reliable way of communicating with each other. “You didn’t save me.” He countered. “You threw yourself at a slayer, I would have been fine if you didn’t decide to drag me into your mess.” Hearing the track in the background change, he wasn’t surprised to realise Metzli had an entire album saved to their phone. They looked like the My Chemical Romance type. He opened his mouth to say so but was interrupted by an uneven sigh. He knew without his new senses he wouldn’t have heard it, he knew he should probably pretend he hadn’t heard it. But the sound that managed to escape his friend was so genuinely forlorn, ignoring it didn’t feel like an option. “Hey-” He started, his voice soft, and comforting. But he couldn’t finish his sentence. As quickly as Metzli’s frown had appeared, it was gone, replaced by a mischievous grin, and a flask drawn from inside their shirt pocket.  

He reached out, ready to swipe it from their hands, but their gaze caught on something behind him. Assuming it was one of the ghosts, he turned to look too, but was only able to make out a vague shadow. Something ominous, lurking just beyond the line of the trees. The ghosts were gone, silent enough for him to hear a very human heartbeat if he focused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he understood what was happening a moment too late. There was a sharp sound of something being released, followed by a rush of air. He didn’t have time to react, and the projectile shot past him, clipping his arm as he threw himself to the ground. He landed next to Metzli, eyes wide, glasses crooked where they had nearly fallen from the end of his nose. The pain in his arm wasn’t severe, but he was drunk, and he knew his pain tolerance was high because of that. Wincing, he forced himself to drop his can so that he could reach up and press a hand against the injury. The smell of beer began to fill the air as it bubbled, spilling out onto the grass beside him. Exhaling a breath, the cut wasn’t deep, and it definitely wasn’t lethal, but when he pulled his hand away his palm was black, and slick with blood. Scrambling to push his back up against the tombstone, his mind struggled to form a coherent plan. Even if Metzli wanted to take on whoever was hiding in the woods, they were in no fit state to try. “Shit-” He hissed. “Shit- what do we do?” 

Metzli jumped at the dull thud Milo’s body made when he made impact onto the dirt floor next to them. “What the—” Thick, black blood pooled through his fingers as he applied pressure to his newfound wound. Mouth agape, ready to say something more, a wheezing laugh spilled forward and they crawled to the tombstone for cover. When they poked their head out above it, an arrow whizzed past their head, barely missing them. “Ha-ha! You missed!” A drunk and taunting finger pointed at the hidden hunter, and another arrow shot out, directly to their face. 

Everything went black as Metzli closed their eyes and shot their hand up. By some miracle, a thing they didn’t even believe in, they had caught the arrow. More laughter ensued as they swiftly got back to the ground to show Milo. “Hey! Hey! Milo, look at this! I fucking caught it!” Pure, unfiltered shock littered their face as a smile curled onto their lips. They felt like a god, like they could do anything. And no slayer could possibly beat them, even in their inebriated state.

Milo stared at Metzli in disbelief as they began to laugh. But within seconds he was overcome by the urge himself. There were so many things to laugh at. He was a vampire, hanging out in a cemetery with another vampire. His life was beyond a joke at this point. Things had become so weird that for a second he had forgotten just how weird they really were. It was crazy to think he used to be human. For twenty two years this world had been make believe, something in tv shows, and bad YA novels. Now he was living it, apparently to a My Chemical Romance soundtrack. It crept up on him, building in his chest, then his throat, before finally escaping his mouth. A peal of laughter, genuine, and unfiltered, echoed across the empty grounds. Too distracted by his own situation to register his friend standing up, it was only as Metzli joined him again that he realised what he had missed. “You- what?” He only laughed harder at the revelation, feeling a little delirious. “You fucking liar, there’s no way-” Reaching to take the arrow out of their hands, he bent the wood, testing its strength because he could. It was pretty regular, as far as he could tell. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. Tapping Metzli on the head with the point, he carelessly threw it to the ground. “Why us?” He asked, tears running down his cheeks as he attempted to reign himself in. “Do you think we’re cursed?”  

“Sir, I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar!” Metzli said through laughter and wheezing coughs. The situation at hand was crazy, too crazy for anyone to believe if they got the chance to tell anyone about it. “Why us? Because we’re having fun and hunters hate that we have fun!” Getting up, they took the arrow with them and began to trek onward to the hunter. Before they could make it even three steps though, an arrow shot right into their shoulder. An exclamation of pain reverberated from their chest as they fell back, rolling to their feet to stand up again.  

Anger pulsed through their drunken mind. Alcohol reinforced that anger, manifesting it into a loud growl from Metzli. “Is that all you got?! Fucking coward! Shooting from all the way over there!” They were being reckless, too motivated by their state of inebriation. An arrow still protruded from their shoulder, going all the way through.It took mere moments, but the situation went from humorous, to extremely dangerous without Metzli even noticing. Having a care about their well-being would’ve helped, but there was none to be found. It was as lost as their soul.  

“Oof!” Taunting the hunter worked. Metzli was tackled, extremely hard onto the ground, pushing the arrow back into them. Pain would’ve been made more prominent had it not been for the shelf’s worth of alcohol in their system. 

Raising his eyebrows, something about the statement struck Milo as odd. When he finally realised what it was he felt a little ridiculous. Not too ridiculous to be honest though. “Y’know… I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘sir’ before.” He admitted, giggling at the unusual admission. Honestly, he had never earned the courtesy. Anybody who didn’t know his name and wanted to get his attention usually resorted to insults before titles. There was no need to be polite when you were throwing somebody out of a bar, or berating them for unashamedly doing drugs in the bathroom. “I like it.” Scrubbing his hand against the grass, attempting to wipe away some of his blood, he wrinkled his nose as dirt and beer got dirt caught under his fingernails. Why was nothing ever as easy as it looked in the movies? “I think a lot of people hate fun,” he pointed out, thinking of how his parents liked to try and control his substance abuse, of the way people looked down on him, or tried to tell him they were concerned because he enjoyed certain vices more than others. “But yeah, maybe hunters more than most…” Shifting as Metzli stood again, he was ready for them to tease the Hunter hiding in the woods. If they did so from where they were standing then it wouldn’t be difficult for them to drop back down to safety. But they stepped out from behind their barricade, making themself incredibly vulnerable. “Metzli- wait-” He hissed, but it was too late. He hurried to get to his knees, peering over the stone so that he could watch the chaos unfold.  

Metzli’s voice rang out, loud and clear. He wasn’t sure actively encouraging the person trying to kill them was a very good idea, but before he could tell them they seemed to stumble. In the blink of an eye an arrow was protruding from their shoulder and he stared, frozen in horror. “Stop!” He shouted, though he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Metzli, or the hunter. He only knew this was no longer funny. As quickly as the humour had come, it had dissolved, melting away to be replaced by a familiar sense of fear. Jeez, it really was never ending. “No- wait- shit-” He shouted again, inching closer as Metzli was tackled to the ground. It went against all of his instincts to follow his friend’s footsteps, to make himself vulnerable, but he didn’t know what else he could do aside from watch them suffer. A few more seconds passed, and Metzli only succeeded in getting pushed against the ground with more force, so he steeled himself, forcing his mind to sober up before running at the hunter, tackling them in the same way they had tackled Metzli. He hit them full force, throwing them off of his friend, and rolled with them, unable to keep track of who was where, and whether he was in danger. He couldn’t see any obvious weapons, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any on the hunter’s person. 

The scuffle was a blur, made worse by the drunken state Metzli was in. Through it all, they laughed and wheezed. “Is that all you got? You’re the worst hunter I’ve ever—” They watched in awe as Milo fought against both his instincts and the hunter, who cried out in pain. He was obviously new, still untrained in various ways. Thus, the reason why the taunting worked. He needed to stop using long range attacks, and prove himself. This was his own undoing and Metzli pointed at him, and laughed. “Oh man, you really suck at this!” 

Reaching towards the struggle, they pulled the hunter off of Milo. After a swift click! Metzli was thrown back by yet another arrow in their stomach, dropping the hunter in the process. “Goddammit!” Pain was still dulled out, but they were frustrated nonetheless. “I’m literally two inches away. The least you can do is actually make me dust. Jesus!” They said, getting up and kicking the hunter in the head. He was now knocked out cold. Problem officially solved.  

“All right, you wanna get more drinks?” Still not minding the second arrow in them, they asked Milo, and continued walking in a drunken stupor.  

Milo felt the weight lift from his body, and sat up as best he could, just in time to watch the hunter shoot another arrow at Metzli. This one hit them in the stomach, but they still didn’t seem bothered by the pain, or the knowledge of what was happening. He opened his mouth, taking a breath ready to speak, but he couldn’t find his words. What was there to say? Nothing was going to stop this, nothing was going to change the mind of Metzli or the person still pointing a weapon at them. Wincing as his friend continued to insult the hunter, he couldn’t help but realise if they had been more adept then both of them would probably be dead by now. Dead dead. Really they should be thanking them for not being skilled enough to take out two incredibly inebriated vampires. Flinching as a sudden crack rang out, he saw Metzli kick the hunter, and the action played again inside his head, slow motion allowing him to see just how brutal the move had been. A gasp escaping him, he crawled over to where they were sprawled on the grass, unconscious, and no longer a threat.  

“What did you do?” He demanded, eyes wide as he took in the situation. Metzli standing, two arrows protruding from their torso, and the hunter now potentially concussed, vulnerable, and alone on their back. He still didn’t feel sober, but his mind was working to process information like he was. He gently pried open one of the hunter’s eyelids, checking their pupil for any sign of trauma. Then tilted his head towards them, taking note of their steady breathing, and the strong heartbeat within their chest. “More drinks?” He echoed, looking back up at Metzli. The offer was tempting. Anything to forget what had just happened, the casual horrors he now seemed destined to witness on a near daily basis. Was he ever going to get used to this? The violence of it all? “I-” Glancing back down at the unconscious form, he was confident they were about to wake up. Any longer than a few minutes could mean brain damage, but their vitals were steady, and their pupils were regular. Chances were, the shock more than anything had caused them to black out, which meant they didn’t have long to make their escape. “Fuck it.” He muttered, getting clumsily to his feet. “Let’s get out of here, I think they’re about to come to…” He admitted, moving away from the hunter towards the entrance of the cemetery. “And then we can deal with this,” he added, gesturing vaguely to the arrows embedded in his company. He still didn’t understand how Metzli could be so provocative, but he didn’t want to understand. Whatever they were dealing with was their issue. So long as he could keep them alive, he had done his part. “You’re going to need blood.”

Milo looked like a professional moving about the hunter’s body, checking on him. “You a doctor or something? Who cares about this idiot anyway? If he’s dead, he’s dead. Lucky he would be in a cemetery,” Metzli chuckled dryly, pulling the arrows out of their body with audible grunts of discomfort. Part of them wished the arrows had actually pierced their heart, but they weren’t so lucky. “He definitely wouldn’t think twice to check on us. As long as we’re dust, he’s happy. So fuck him.” The arrows clattered to the ground and they scowled at Milo for trying to baby them.  

“I know what my body needs,” they barked back, following Milo to the exit with a huff. Metzli was offended, more than they should have been, but alcohol had a way of doing that. On the way out, they picked up their phone which had been playing House of Wolves. They shut it off and pocketed the phone. “I’m going home. Maybe I’ll get a snack from my friend. I’m done.”  

Metzli walked past Milo in a fast walk, sulking and battered. Not looking at him, they said, “Let me know if you wanna hang out again I guess. Try not to be too sad without my presence, depresso.” Everything about their appearance was so messy and forlorn, only snapping out of it when the gate closed with a metallic clang! for the second time tonight. “Later, kid.” 

“My parents are doctors.” Milo admitted, remembering a time where he used to proudly announce he was going to be a doctor one day too. Just like mommy and daddy. How embarrassing. Holding his tongue before he could insist he cared about the person lying on the floor, he wasn’t sure how true that statement was. Hunter or otherwise, they had chosen to confront two vampires. Two vampires who weren’t hurting anybody, who just wanted a short break from the world. They didn’t deserve to die, he knew that much. But Metzli was right, he wouldn’t be offered the same courtesy in return. “We can’t just- just kill people,” he countered, almost disturbed by how casual his friend sounded. He wanted to believe they didn’t mean it, but of course they did. “If we do then we’re as bad as they all think we are…” Continuing in his journey towards the boundaries of the cemetery, he only stopped as he heard the arrows hit the ground. One soft clatter, followed by another. He wanted to tell Metzli they shouldn’t have taken them out, that was First Aid 101. But they couldn’t exactly wander through town with them, so he stayed quiet.  

A frown creasing his brow at the shift in tone, he wondered briefly whether other people felt this annoyed by his mood swings. “Clearly you don’t because the last time we met you were starving yourself.” He bit out, unable to help himself. “Fine, go drink your friend’s blood while you’re wasted, and hurt. Because that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.” Running a hand through his hair, he straightened his glasses, pressing his fingertips against his injured arm. He could still feel the blood soaking through the material of his hoodie. “Are you actually leaving?” He demanded, watching as Metzli let the gate swing shut behind them. “Fine, whatever.” He called after them. “I don’t give a shit.” 

“Fuck off,” Metzli growled back, annoyed by the kid’s unnecessary sass. “We are as bad as people think we are. But you know what, so are humans. He was just going to kill us.” They mocked back, throwing the words he had just used against him. The hunter was going to kill them without a second thought, so they saw no need to think about his life. He probably didn’t choose this life, but he also didn’t need to take on more than he could chew. Idiot.  

“Yeah, I’m leaving. I don’t need you to give a shit.” Metzli flipped him off as they walked away, disappearing into the cold night.  

Milo stared at Metzli, watching them as they left the cemetery feeling far too many emotions at once. Fear, worry, exhaustion, relief… He knew they had a point, he just wasn’t ready to accept that. He couldn’t bring himself to accept that. It scared him knowing he was changing. He had grown used to the physical changes, the ways his new life needed to revolve around blood, around nightfall, around a constant feeling of thirst. But seeing so many vampires who were numb to violence felt different. Even in his own circuits, the ones where people got beaten up for the sake of a hit, or robbed at knifepoint because they owed a dealer money, he had never grown used to it, merely avoided it to the best of his ability. The blood still running down his arm was testament to the fact that he couldn’t avoid this violence. It was going to chase him wherever he went simply because some asshole decided to drain him of his blood. Flipping Metzli off in return as they disappeared from view, the gesture no longer felt affectionate, or carefree. Suddenly alone with the sound of quiet breathing, he knew he didn’t have much time. The hunter was due to regain consciousness, and he needed to be far, far away before that happened. Putting more pressure against his arm, he took a deep breath to steady himself, running over the list of friends he knew he could turn to for help. And then he set off, putting the cemetery, and the events of the evening behind him. 

[leafenclaw]

For the dramatic otp asks: 3, 7, 12, and 14 fooooor M&M and Smarties, please. :3

(-meme-) Hey! ^^ So uhm, I’m not sure which combination you want for them, so I’m just… going to answer it for all of them? Keeping it to Elementary and BBC Sherlock though if you don’t mind, ‘cause the more of those you bring in, the longer this gets. x)

3. Who would pine away in silence their entire lives without confessing their love.

BBC!Sherlock x E!Sherlock: BBC!Sherlock seems more like the type to slip into a comfortable familiarity without saying anything and just… enjoy what he gets, without allowing himself to long for more? While E!Sherlock is more the type to tie himself into knots and (depending on whether or not Joan is an active influence in his life) either put words on what he feels or act out in explosive ways because he cannot contain the intensity of it. So BBC!Sherlock is probably the least likely to say anything, but E!Sherlock is the one who would linger on that silence and suffer because of it, then crack and speak up in the end.

BBC!Sherlock x Jamie: Honestly, both of them equally. Both of them repress their emotions, with the difference that BBC!Sherlock doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge them, and Jamie does acknowledge them but anytime it goes beyond a certain point she sublimates everything straight into anger and resentment. So neither of those nerds would say a word, but then Jamie would make BBC!Sherlock pay for what she feels, and depending on how that goes, it would probably devolve into a passive-aggressive war of pettiness that may or may not end up being their personal love language.

E!Sherlock x Jim: Basing this on each of their canon, I think Jim would be willing to acknowledge a lot verbally but wouldn’t admit to feelings out loud unless he’s very very sure that said feelings are reciprocated, while E!Sherlock would pine away and be willing to tell literally everybody but Jim what he means to him. And then Jim would hear about it through the grapevine and probably make some kind of grand gesture to acknowledge E!Sherlock’s feelings, but that wouldn’t go well because E!Sherlock would mistake it as a game and/or mockery rather than a declaration of samesies. They might need an intercessor to sort this out, or else Jim at some point is going to have to press E!Sherlock against the wall and either kiss the hell out of him, or goad him into kissing first (which might take several tries, considering E!Sherlock is much more likely to just angry-lust!stare at Jim’s lips without doing anything than impulse!kissing him).

Jamie x Jim: Oof. See, I feel like the difference between these two is that, unlike all the others, they would both immediately acknowledge that any emotion one might feel would probably be reciprocated by the other because they’re the same? (Even though, all in all, Jamie has a lot more similarities with BBC!Sherlock in the way she processes and acts on her emotions, and same with Jim and E!Sherlock.) So I can easily imagine neither of them ever talking about what they feel and still manage to score the most emotionally stable relationship of all four of them (which is sort of ironic considering how emotionally unstable both of them are on their own lol) just because neither of them would really be scared of rejection and would just… act on whatever they feel like acting on, no questions asked. I can see Jamie initiating their first kiss though, mostly because she’s more assertive than Jim is? And Jim reacting with some amount of initial surprise perhaps, but that wouldn’t last long and he’d quickly get into it. (To be honest there might also be some amount of competition happening there, past the first move they would make it a game of pushing the other until they put a stop to it, but neither would put a stop to it both because of pride and because, all in all, they don’t really want to stop.)

OT4: E!Sherlock, purely because he’s the only one of them with any sort of moral hang-ups, and that’s the one thing that would keep him pining in silence way longer than he has to. Or, well, in relative silence, because as pointed out in a previous section he’s the type to admit his feelings to everyone but the ones he has feelings for, so the others would eventually end up knowing anyway. x)

7. Who would haunt the other after death and chase away other suitors.

BBC!Sherlock x E!Sherlock: BBC!Sherlock. I want to see him scare away all of E!Sherlock’s bedmate partners until E!Sherlock throws a hissy fit because he isn’t getting enough “exercise”. x)

BBC!Sherlock x Jamie: Again, BBC!Sherlock, but this time it’s mostly because I think Jamie would get bored if it was the other way around. BBC!Sherlock’s work happens in starts and fits with a lot of long periods of inactivity where he just lounges around at home, and it’s not as if BBC!Sherlock has a lot of suitors to begin with. There’s only so many times Jamie could amuse herself scaring away John, Mycroft, and/or any regular visitor to 221b while BBC!Sherlock just… doesn’t believe she’s really there? Before she gets enough and moves on. On the other hand, Jamie’s work requires her to get up most mornings, she meets people all day, and she’s known to occasionally seduce people in an attempt to reach her goals (she canonically did this at least once, potentially more if you think this is what happened with Vikner as well), so there’s lots of things there for BBC!Sherlock to do even if it takes a while for Jamie to acknowledge him as real. And I’d love to see how Jamie deals with someone she cannot just physically damage or get rid of when they become troublesome. ^^

E!Sherlock x Jim: Since we had BBC!Sherlock commenting on E!Sherlock’s bedmates earlier, why not the other way around? E!Sherlock haunting Jim and scaring his partners away by running a commentary of their performances and implying Jim could do better seems like a very petty, very E!Sherlock thing to do. x)But I also think if E!Sherlock dies first, he probably won’t have anyone to haunt for long, because Jim… well, he doesn’t love life enough to remain very attached to it if the people he cares about die. So there’s potential for humour there, but there’s also potential for horrible angst, and I’m all here for both.

Jamie x Jim: I don’t have the heart to do the same thing to Jim twice lol. And Jim canonically dies first anyway, so… I can see him coming back and pestering Jamie non-stop about every single one of her life decisions, how she runs her organisation, how she deals with her Sherlock, how she deals with her enemies, etc. etc. And, provided you allow a smidgen of Jamielock to sneak through this one, I can definitely see Jim scaring ever suitor of Jamie and justifying it to her by bringing up E!Sherlock, but then trying to scare E!Sherlock away as well if she ever goes back to him, and the row about Jim’s attitude and the fact he cannot make his mind that would follow. x)

OT4: To be completely fair, I can see all of them coming back to haunt the others. But with an OT4, how would that work? Would the ghost try to scare them into… what, not having the sex they already had before the ghost died? Even without including sex, disturbing them while they’re having an intimate moment, probably grieving the one between them who isn’t there anymore? See, that just doesn’t work. How about they just try and find a way to include the ghost in their bedroom activities despite their lack of a body instead? =)

12. Who would propose in a grand gesture of some kind. 

BBC!Sherlock x E!Sherlock: I’m going to be boring and say that, with those two, the answer is probably “neither”. I don’t know about BBC!Sherlock (this isn’t exactly a topic I think about often in general so I really have no opinion) but E!Sherlock made his opinion of marriage repeatedly clear throughout the show. So if by some earth-shattering miracle he decided to change his stance on this, I suspect it would have to be a very small, very private proposal made in an intimate moment and thoroughly discussed beforehand, and followed by a just as small, just as private ceremony that they may end up not advertising at all until somehow the fact that they’re married comes up like three years later in a random conversation and everybody is floored about it.

BBC!Sherlock x Jamie: Jamie, definitely. She would do this through a series of puzzle hunt crimes to make sure BBC!Sherlock has so much fun he cannot possibly refuse once he solves the final one and finds the ring.

E!Sherlock x Jim: I think Jim might attempt this in a half-serious, half-joking way just to gauge his reaction to the idea? Probably through something really ridiculous and over the top like sky-writing or something. And then E!Sherlock would immediately shut this down and pout for the next three days, until he and Jim have a talk about it and E!Sherlock realises Jim doesn’t really care whether they’re married or not, he only meant to make E!Sherlock understand he wants them to be on the same page about their relationship, and perhaps he wouldn’t mind being reassured that it’s something they both view as solid and steady despite the fact they don’t see each other as often as typical couples do.

Jamie x Jim: LOL those two. They would talk about it half-heartedly to gauge each other’s interest, and once they’re sure they’re both agreed that marriage is what they want, they would both secretly plan a grand gesture without consulting the other, and accidentally propose on the very same day at the exact same time, then proceed to be very annoyed about it and possibly deny the other out of spite (only to accept a while later after they stop pouting). x)

OT4: Let’s see… hmmm. Jim, Jamie, and BBC!Sherlock agree to play a prank on E!Sherlock and wait until he goes on one of his sleeping binges to slip a ring on his finger. Then when he wakes up and asks about it, they pretend the four of them got married before he went to sleep, and how come he doesn’t remember it? Which, obviously, he might not because on the fifth day without sleep your brain isn’t exactly at its peak. But then E!Sherlock would look sad instead of the angry/frantic mood they expected, and when they ask what’s wrong he’d say he’s disappointed to be unable to remember such an important milestone in their relationship. At which point at least one of them would feel bad about it (I’m gonna bet on Jim because E!Sherlock does the puppy eyes horribly well and somehow I feel he would secretly be a sucker for those) and give up the game, and E!Sherlock would turn the tables around and laugh because of course he knew it was a prank. After that, the conversation would become serious and they would discuss the possibility like adults, and perhaps they’d manage to find a consensus between E!Sherlock’s resistance to the institution, the four of them wanting something official between them, and the fact there isn’t a government on this planet that would give off marriage certificates for quads so they would have to sort out who gets married to whom. x)

14. Who would spend too much money on expensive gifts for the other. 

BBC!Sherlock x E!Sherlock: E!Sherlock. Except if asked he would probably lie about the price tag because he loathes pretension, and if caught he would try to pass it off as the most practical solution to a problem, the best way to help BBC!Sherlock, and/or a way to encourage this or that small business.

BBC!Sherlock x Jamie: Almost certainly Jamie, but depending on the occasion she would be either deliberately lavish and over the top about it (and there would be a not-so-secret intention behind the gift) or overly casual (”On that matter, the noise your refrigerator is making bothers me. I ordered a replacement, it should come in this afternoon”). She wouldn’t feel any shame about displaying wealth like E!Sherlock though, her thing is more about being caught caring? And she would keep doing it as long as BBC!Sherlock doesn’t comment on her habit of showering him with random super expensive stuff, but would stop immediately (at least for a few months) the moment he implies she does this because she loves him.

E!Sherlock x Jim: Oh God Jim. Hands down. Same scenario as the one you described for Jim and BBC!Sherlock, although I think at some point E!Sherlock would question where the money come from and imply it would be better used for charitable means, and Jim would have to charm him back into compliance (which shouldn’t be that hard really).

Jamie x Jim: Jim would probably take the lead on this. I suspect he would find Jamie very hard to shop for though, both because she has impeccable taste and because she wouldn’t wait for him to replace or acquire anything that needs replacing or acquiring. He might end up having to pamper her in other ways instead, which Jamie would probably thoroughly enjoy because while she’s very independent in general, she also really likes the attention.

OT4: Well, I think we’ve already established that Jim is the most likely to give into that kind of behaviour, so. There you go. x)

My asks are still open if anyone else wants to go for it! ^^

[exo-sow]

I’ll always trust you - Baekhyun

A/n:  Writing a Mafia!au was a challenge for me. I find this story a bit rough so I’m waiting feedbacks from you guys ! I’m sorry I think I’ve been slow to write this one shot... - Requested by anon.

Genre: Smut, Mafia!au. 

Warning: Hard spanking and tears, Dom!Baekhyun.

Words: 1657

“Where were you ?”

It was the first sentence you heard when you crossed the door at 1am. Only the little light of the living room was turning on. You saw his silhouette in front of you, in a white shirt and a suit pants. Baekhyun was waiting for you. His standing was impressive and you knew what to expect. The anger in his eyes drove you mute as you stared at him with fear.

“Where the fuck were you I said !”

You looked into his eyes, reconstructed yourself. You get straight as you responded.

“I was out in the neighbourhood. I needed fresh air, I couldn’t stay here without seei-”

“Fuck so you don’t understand when I talk to you ! Don’t you understand what means stay inside you for own security?!”

His stare was still on you, you didn’t know what to respond. You felt he was angry, you also discerned disappointment in his voice but you’ve always been big enough to take care of yourself and you didn’t like this situation.

“You want to go out ? Fine I have a meeting with the guys. Come with me.”

It was all he said before he passed beside you and you heard the front door opening. You turned on your heels and followed him knowing you didn’t have a choice.

Everybody was here. Baekhyun, you and the eight other men who constituted the gang. They were happily surprised to see you because you weren’t always here for their meetings. It was nice to see a girl sometimes, plus you were like family to them. Sehun, the one you knew the most, greeted you with a small hug which made you smile before you sat beside him around the large table. However the tension was felt between you and Baekhyun as the meeting began.

“Hyung I think we shouldn’t be too kind with those guys, if we don’t reply now they’ll think they won. Why don’t we change the plan and take our guns to show them who are the bosses in town? Literally they threaten us like they were a hundred and they’re half of us. It would be easy”

Baekhyun picked up his head to look at Sehun with a calm but dark gaze.

“Because that’s not what I decided. Don’t think you can change the plan I made just because you have a sudden urge. Be more thoughtful.”

Your arm were crossed over your chest and your eyes were on the table since the beginning. You huffed ironically at his response.

“What? Do you have something to add?”

You raised your face when Baekhyun talked to you. The tension grown more as you could see the members looking at each others worried about what could happened next.

“Oh if you think I’m grown enough to give my opinion so yes I want to talk.”

“Y/N don’t-”

His eyes blackened and pass through your soul. You didn’t flinch as you cut him short.

“Let Sehun give his opinion ! He’s maybe not 100% right but some points can be took into account. Stop wanting to control everything !”

Your tone increased as your hands were on the table and your chest moved forward him. You were defying him in front of everybody. Your eyes were strict and you knew what you were doing. Even if you knew Baekhyun was protecting you, you needed him to understand your point of view.

“Don’t talk about things you fucking don’t know Y/N ! You don’t even know the entire situation !”

You huffed one more time, you turned away before looking back at him, provocation in your eyes.

“Oh sorry maybe you want me to talk about something I know…  Like how you track me everytime I go out or maybe your lack of confidence in me?”

You crossed it. You crossed the line. Everyone was quiet and Baekhyun kept his calm as his breath was loud. You understood what you did but you didn’t move, it was too late for that so you maintained your position.

“Everybody. Out.”

His eyes were on you as eight bodies stood up and headed for the door. The two of you were holding the sight up. When the door closed Baekhyun stood up and came to you. He didn’t understood why you were being bratty. All he did was to protect you because you were all he has. You went first in his heart and you were all that matter. But now you were a brat and he needed you to remember who were keeping you safe.

“Stand up.”

He was in front of you, his posture threatening. He had his hands in his pockets, you looked at him from bottom to top knowing what will happen next.

You knew Baekhyun would never hurt you, he loved you more than everything so the only way to put you back in place was during the sex. You stood up before him.

“Baek, I swear I didn’t want to-”

His hand went directly on your neck as he spoke to you.

“Shut up ! Don’t call me by nicknames when you behave like that. Now what’s my name?”

You lowered your eyes and you responded.

“Sir.”

“Good girl.”

He smirked at your response and leant forward to kiss you. You closed your eyes as you waited for his lips. When his nose brushed yours he stopped and spoke with a deep voice who took you by surprise.

“However I have to be sure you understood your mistake so you won’t put me in this situation again.”

With a dark stare he unbuttoned your pants and slided both your jeans and underwear down. You yelped in surprise at his action but before you could arguing you were thrown face again the table, ass up. It didn’t take long before you felt the first smack on your buttcheek.

Lips between your teeth, you tried to stay quiet as Baekhyun was slapping you more and more stronger. You didn’t let a sound go out but you could felt the tears running down your face. After what seemed the twentieth slap, Baekhyun stopped and pulled your hair to make you look at him.

“I hope you’ll remember how to behave.”

His hand were to your ass to calm the pain the same hand caused. You let out a whine and you dropped your head on the table as a relief when you felt his now sweet hand on you.

Despite everything your punishment wasn’t done as you heard him unbuckle his belt. You waited for him to touch you and you heard him talk to you.

“Turn around and sit on the table.”

You used your arms to get up. When you sat up on the table you knew this move was a part of his plan. You ass stinged of pain when the first cheek get in touch with the table. You hissed at the sensation as you opened your eyes to saw him naked in front of you.

“I’m sorry Sir I swear-”

Baekhyun was giving you the cold shoulder as he looked into your eyes and took your legs to surround them around his waist. As a reflex your hands went to his back and you were afraid you made a mistake with that gesture. He didn’t respond as he lowered his eyes to look between you, where you two connected as he pushed himself inside of you. The pain on your ass was mixed with the pleasure of his cock. Your eyes were closed, your head leant back and your mouth was wild open as you gasped everytime Baekhyun thrusted inside of you. The new sensation was giving you chills down your spine and his mouth was now on your neck sucking harshly on your skin. The combination of pain and pleasure was intense. His cock filled you perfectly as you heard him grunt when you started clenching around him. You tugged his hair to see his face. You needed his lips on yours. You wanted to prove him you were genuinely sorry by kissing him. When he understood your move his hands went directly on your chest as he pushed you to lean back on the table. His eyes were serious and you were feeling sad that you humiliated him earlier.

“I swear I’m sorry ! I won’t do it again !”

You screamed at him, bordering on crying. Your arms were pinned across your face and Baekhyun started thrusting faster and deeper. His bottom lip were between his teeth as he tried to hide his loud grunts. His rhythm snapped you and you felt you orgasm appearing. Baekhyun was touching your g-spot everytime he thrusted. His eyes were on you when you came, being a moaning mess.

“I love you Baek ! I’m sorry ! I love you so much !”

After you pronounced those words he came inside of you. You felt his seed covering your walls, a loud moan escaping his mouth followed by your name.

He collapsed immediately, letting go of your hands, his lips on yours. The kiss was deep and long as none of you wanted to end this. His tongue was melting against yours and you hummed in satisfaction as you finally felt him. He pulled out reluctantly.

“I’m sorry if I hurted you, I’m really sorry but know that I’ll always trust you. I’m just being protective because you’re the only one I love and if I lose you I have nothing else. You’re my everything and I love you Y/N.”

His hand on your cheek and the look he gave you were the softest things you saw today. The anger was gone as you saw his gaze full of love.  

“I know I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought private issues in front of the gang. I love you too Baek.”

You kissed him one more time and he smiled against your lips.

“Now let’s go back home.”

Reblog, like and/or comment if you found it great for you :)

[blessuswithblogs]

Katsura Hashino is a Big Fat Creep and Other Observations

(for the record all uses of the word “queer” in this post are meant in the academic sense as shorthand for a wide umbrella group of gender and sexual minorities and not as a slur i hope that is evident from my past history and status as Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls but let it never be said i don’t cover my ass)

A few weeks ago, Catherine: Full Body Edition or whatever gross subtitle it got was released. Catherine has had a very checkered history as one of those games that is just kind of slimy, though it has endured with a cult following and a surprisingly successful competitive community by way of the game's multiplayer mode where you compete to see who can climb The Dream Sex Tower the best. Honestly, I don't know that much about Catherine because it is difficult to think of a game that repulses me more on a visceral level, but I want to do my due diligence and not talk out my ass. One of Catherine's initial claims to fame was that it was by Atlus Japan, specifically the same people who made the much beloved Persona games. This is evident in the game's art, music, overall style of delivery, and being basically hate speech.

The original Catherine was a greasy, misogynistic mess with some really vile politics about trans people in particular. Deadnaming your own fictional character in the credits is some next level petty malice. Full Body returns with, stupendously, a double down on this ideology that is actually kind of comical in how convoluted it gets in trying to decry the Degenerate Queer Lifestyle. The game adds a scene with Rin, who is apparently a gay crossdresser from space(???????), getting slapped away and running away crying from their love interest after he learns The Terrible Truth. In another game, with a different writing team, this could have been a teachable moment about the destructive consequences of taking too narrow a view of human sexuality and gender expression, but as it stands it's just another tiresome example of Trans Panic with a sheepish admonishment from the other characters that gosh maybe slapping their hand away was a mean thing to do.

So we're already firing on all cylinders here, but the best is yet to come. The bulk of the outcry comes from the addition of a weird "true ending" cutscene where Catherine, who is also from space, goes back in time to make everybody's life better. Or something. This is already pretty stupid on the face of it because its Fucking Time Travel Out of Nowhere, but the scene then depicts a pre-transition Erica, the game's trans character who got deadnamed in the credits the last time. There has been a lot of exceptionally tedious discussion about exactly when this scene takes place in the game's chronology and what it means for Erica, and some brain geniuses have tied their thinkmeats into pretzel shapes to prove definitively that all this means is that she delayed her transition in this Better Timeline, that might not actually be better, because Catherine is weird and selfish, maybe. And. Fine. Sure. Okay. Let's accept that for now. Given the game's previous track record, and continuing insistence on using Erica's pretransition name in the credits even in the rerelease, it is meanspirited at best to show her before her transition at all (many real life trans people would be utterly mortified for such a thing to happen to them) and overall just in poor taste and pretty lousy writing at that because it's so unclear what any of this actually means. Since the game has not yet received an official english localization, the context of this scene is to begin with muddled by amateur translators on the internet all with slightly conflicting interpretations of the scene. It's a fucking mess, by and large.

So I would disagree that this is a fake controversy manufactured by those damnable essjaydubyas. Even with the most charitable interpretation possible, it's still just really sketchy and gross. Erica's english voice actress, who seems to be very fond of the character, has been vocal about her dissatisfaction with the new scenes on twitter and has recently come out to say that the localization team is going to try and take some steps to make things less blatantly hateful. Between this and Jennifer Hale's recent tweet about it being time to grab our pitchforks in response to Activision-Blizzard's mass layoffs, I'm starting to think that voice actresses are pretty cool. I mean honestly I always thought that but we're getting off topic. One of the top competitive Catherine players, who was by all accounts really hyped for the release of Full Body, just straight up said on twitter that he was quitting the game because he couldn't support something like that in good conscience. I don't know if he's remained consistent on this position since, but it was a bold statement, to say the least.

Now, whenever an incident like this happens, the inevitable string of More-Progressive-Than-Thou white boys who watched an anime once and thought the bouncing titties were a little much appears to start pontificating about the cause of such untoward elements in media. And it's basically all just a bunch of Orientalist bullshit. Every time. For whatever reason, people still really love to be racist towards Japanese people because it's still sort of socially acceptable when couched in the language of "oh japan!!! ecks dee" and so the neverending procession of softboi neckbeards declared with confidence that Atlus's continual inclusion of Actual Hate Speech towards LGBTQ+ people was the result of the inscrutable Japanese Mind and its Mysterious, Antiquated Culture. Many mentions of the philosophy of Wa, wherein the nail that stands out gets pounded down, and lots of very lovely psuedointellectual claptrap. Evidently, people just seem to think that queer people don't live in Japan, or that they don't fight just as hard as we do for equal rights and protections under the law. They do live there, and they do fight as hard as we do. Obviously. You fucking imbeciles.

In their quest to clearly illustrate their moral and intellectual superiority to the backward, collectivist Asiatic Peoples, these highly reasonable and enlightened manboys forsook a very important logical principle: Occam's Razor. Sure, you could blame jApAnEsE cUlTuRe for Atlus's impropieties and just conveniently ignore all of the fantastic queer media it has produced in recent years like My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, Horou Muskou, Nier Automata, etc. Or you could go for the simpler and more logically consistent option: Katsura Hashino is a big fat creep. Who is Hashino, you ask? He is the director of every Persona game since 3, as well as Catherine, and all of these games' gross shit and self-contradictory themes of self-acceptance and rebellion against an unust society (unless you're gay, ew) can probably be traced to him and his gaggle of accomplices. In addition to the fact that Atlus games not by Hashino's team tend to just. not have these problems to nearly as large a degree or even at all, Hashino himself has gone on record saying some really kind of hilariously backwards shit. Most infamously, when asked why in Persona 3 literally all of your social links with girls ended up with Hot Makeout Sessions regardless of like. Previously Committed to Relationships. Hashino simply said he couldn't imagine friendships between boys and girls. So that's where his brain is at. Since subsequent games in the series graciously allowed the player the option to not be a Huge Cheating Bastard, one can assume either his moral development has progressed past early puberty or somebody on the team convinced him this wasn't actually a normal thing to think. Given the man's output, I would say it's probably the latter.

It is because of this man's decisions and behavior that so many people are simply unwilling to give Full Body the benefit of the doubt. The game's director is, quite simply, a well known louse, and not in the endearing, Roger Smith way. Once again, it requires far fewer leaps in logic to assume that Hashino is just being a bigoted creep again than to go through some fuckin galaxy brain Kingdom Hearts-esque dot-connecting to justify it as just a LITTLE BIT bigoted not REALLY SUPER bigoted, or simply blaming the whole ordeal on some strange ineffable property of the Japanese Character. He's a gremlin! An overgrown manchild with a warped view of human interaction and society put in charge of games about exploring those concepts for.... reasons. My bet is that his dad knew somebody and then Persona 3 was successful enough for the rest of Atlus to just go "alright fine let him do it while we do mainline games". Unfortunately, Persona became so popular that the mainline games sort of switched places and became side-projects, at least in the eyes of the Western consumer base (which let's be real is the only perspective that any of these Serious Online Commentators even pretend to care about).

So I would once again caution everyone against just assuming that Japan is some sort of quaint anachronistic country of weird gameshows and backwards social mores. This is both a gross oversimplification of an entire culture and the struggles of their own subgroups and minorities and simply a grand display of lacking self-awareness. Like have you fucking seen the guys in the White House? The preposterous media that gets routinely greenlit on prime time TV, theaters, and digitally? Don't make me laugh. The West has no claim to any sort of progressive superiority to anybody else. The white cishet bubble of comfortable middle class affluence might distort what you see of the rest of the world, but believe me: we got problems too. Big ones. Even the presupposed bastions of Demsoc Virtue like Sweden have an awful track record of discrimination and eugenics. But Dazzlyn that's different, you cry! All of these groups and forces don't represent the entirety of Western culture! Yes. Exactly. Oppression is not culturally bound like cuisine or art. It is a nasty, universal thing that worms its way into everything, and it will use any excuse it can find to murder and exploit. It's against Christian values! It represents a genetic defect that must be purged! It's ostentatious and immature! The list goes on. And every time you giggle and go "oh those silly japanese" you're just being another expression of the same vile ideas.

I'm going to relate some of my own personal experiences, because as a noted Big Gay Bitch Who Loves Girls, I feel like maybe I have some authority on the matter? Just a little? Enough that if I make a well reasoned argument it can't be dismissed out of hand? Let's hope. So, what's the gayest game I've ever played? Final Fantasy XIV Online: A Realm Reborn. Look yeah I know I'm talking about it again but come back this is important. Final Fantasy is a series that has had a lot of LGBTQ+ undertones pretty much since forever, and while they have largely been in keeping with the times in terms of tact and representation (the Crossdressing Cloud debacle is a deeply bizarre, uncomfortable sequence in a lot of ways but there's also some genuine Good Gay Shit in 7 like Cloud's surprisingly cute and genuine date with Barret. I think. It's... it's been a while.), by God, it was at least there, and 13 had honest to god Lesbians, Harold in Fang and Vanille. I don't want to say it has pedigree, but the series has dabbled. XIV continues on the tradition with a vibrant world that's actually got a lot of characters and NPCs that are just incidentally there and kind of gay. The adventurer couple that befriended the Tonberries in Wanderer's Palace, a vendor that appeared in the Rising cosplaying as Minfilia at her wife's behest, a miqote lady bathing in the oasis that lets on she wouldn't mind having cute girls stare at her instead of grabby boys, every horny Elezen in Ishgard, Samson and Guydelot (shoutouts to Lulumi Lumi), and probably more that I've missed. More than that, though, is that because FFXIV is an MMO, it is by necessity a social space, and in my experience it has been one that has gone out of its way to be inclusive to everybody, from the GMs handling reports of abusive behavior right up to the top decision makers who made same sex player marriages a thing just immediately on its implementation and letting boys wear the gold saucer bunny costume too (albeit after quite a bit of pleading). The game's got a huge queer community of which I am kind of part of sort of. It's one of the reasons I keep coming back to it. Hell, they've recently partnered with a pride group in Australia to have an FFXIV float in a parade. I usually turn my nose up at such things as meaningless corporate grandstanding, but it does seem to be more meaningful than two boy pastas getting married or rainbow colored oreos because like. Cheesy as it sounds, it's more than just a brand to a lot of people, it's a place, sometimes the only place, they can go to feel safe and accepted in a community. Having official, vocal support from the dev team means genuinely a lot, I think.

Now, there is one quality about this game of which I am speaking that might strike you as noteworthy: it is Japanese. It's made by Japanese people, in Japan, under a Japanese company. A middle aged Japanese man goes up on stage in Gunbreaker cosplay to speak in Japanese about the upcoming expansion, while a meme obsessed gremlin translates for him. It's not perfect, there are problems, etcetera, why do I even need to qualify that in 2019, when everything sucks, god. But it's better than most things. I hope that it serves as an example to people that even in the supposedly regressive countries of the world, queer communities are still living, fighting, and sometimes even being heard, and that the only thing you're enriching by dismissing them wholesale as socially backwards is your own internet penis. And nobody fucking cares about that you simpleton. I expect 5.0 to be gayer than ever before because they're taming up with Yoko Taro to do a Nier themed raid and by the 12 Warrior of Light Dazzyn Reed is going to kiss 2B or an equivalent model right on the robot lips.

[pass3rby]

Element of Surprise

#1

Fandom: X-men (movies) Pairing: Allerdrake (Pyro/Iceman) Summary: Everybody has to make decisions. Decisions that might or might not work out. He wasn’t in a habit of looking back either way.

A/N: 

Greatest thanks to my brother from another mother for bestowing an infectious prompt upon me and all the wretched jokes that accompanied his insightful comments. You’ve been a great help and an ass at the same time.  The rest of my gratitude belongs to my dear family who has an immaculate sense of recognizing each highlight and “I saw the light!” moment of my writing, reliably and effectively ruining every single one of them. You’ve been an invaluable teacher of forced multitasking (which I still fail at spectacularly).  Thank you, guys, for harassing me at the most unfortunately-picked times imaginable but standing by me still.  Love you.

St. John Allerdyce was a survivalist. And this might be a very sucky way to begin one's story, but he was nothing but cut-the-crap kind of guy, so go deal.

Where was he again? Ah, yes. Good at the pretend game, he knew how to play tough; easily irked when deprived of a fire source. Bad-tempered, really. All of these stellar qualities went well with him being a realist to the bone. Wrap it up and ship it off.

He wasn't confessing all that out of some twisted delusion of having a chance at redemption, though. Wanting to save his tar-dark soul? No. It was only so that when he says that he's done morally questionable things to pull through, it would be clear that it was no slip up, not a 'few times' kind of deal. He's actually done them more often than not. Not that he counted; just saying. That was what he meant by being a survivalist. That was what this was about.

The main point here? He kept on going. Always found a way. Pushed. Squeezed in. Got his hands dirty. Gritted his teeth. Whatever it took. Morality was overrated where he lived; nobody abided by it anyway, so why should he? He was just a 'misfit' trying to get by, same as the next guy from a broken home.

On the streets and on his own. Making it, no matter the circumstances. That was the source of his pride. He might have turned out brash as a result, distrusting on a good day and suspicious round the clock, but who gave a shit. Certainly not him, not when it kept him alive this whole time.

When the X-men found him, he didn't feel elation; not even relief and he was far from thankful, too. He suspected the worst and he kept on running from them until they corralled him in and got him on their overly flashy and disgustingly impressive jet.

They took him in; full of reassurances that he'll be alright from then on, that he'll be safe now. Who were they to tell him that? Who were they to be so sure about it, to have balls to warrant that? What was the guarantee? Their skin-tight black&yellow spandex? If so, allow him to doubt the empty promise, because those were a sight for sore eyes – literally, just to make them sore.

Everything would work itself out and quite naturally in its usual, wary and solitary way, though (after all, once you lean onto someone, you're only bound to fall sooner or later) – if only they didn't have Bobby Drake on their "team" already.

The guy was way too cheery and overly friendly. Optimistic. An impersonification of a 'Think positive!' attitude, "Not made from concentrate, one hundred percent natural". It was almost like he was shooting for some such ad twenty-four seven. Think about the descriptive adjectives for a straight-laced goody two shoes from suburbs; you name it, he's that.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was dandy.

Bullshit.

He couldn't stand the guy. The poster boy irritated him; got on his nerves like no one else before. John was way too pragmatic to join this sort of let's pretend. But when dear Bobert started cracking, show that not everything was quite so well in his lala land… That's when John took real notice and interest.

You see, he couldn't be arsed to give a flying fuck about some fake looser, but a kid who had his whole life perfectly lined up and sorted only to get "screwed over" by mutation his parents wouldn't take well to? That was John's kind of real that he was willing to interact with.

Sure, Drake was still a sunny boy with majority of views intact and therefore headdesk-ishly naive, but he wasn't all plain "guy next door" (quotation marks because same door actually) anymore. And while John's own personality and stands had been torn down or have crumbled and been rebuilt time and time again, making him into who he was (coincidentally basically the opposite of his roommate), he and the Snowflake there suddenly had a link of communication and it held ever since then. Thus, their companionship begun.

It didn't hurt they both were element-sensitive – that wasn't to say their co-existing was a cakewalk, though. After all, like Ice and Fire, they too were diametrically different. Just a small example to draw a picture here: while Bobby was afraid of his abilities, scared of his element, John felt an undeniable thrill whenever setting free his own; he loved to see fire reign over anything in its way, watch it burn strong.

Ultimately, their mindsets resulted in both of them failing and it was all for the best that they were roommates in the end, because accidents.

Reason number two was that they were a good "confidence boost" and "recklessness dampener" (whatever) respectively for each other, too. That's what their instructors said, but if anybody asked John what it was for him, he just simply enjoyed coaxing Sub-Zero ("Very funny, you pyromaniac." "C'mon, that was weak. You'll have to do better than that, Ice Cube.") out of his shell, letting his fire frolic with its counter element. Negative and positive of the same, if you wanted to get poetic.

Of course, there was also the aspect of them both being young and as such, hormone-driven, too. He was always open to some serious self-exploring opportunity. Safe environment for that wasn't a given, not for him, and even less so in combination with someone begrudgingly-trustworthy (i.e. with no other agenda hidden behind the forementioned romping between the sheets).

It was nothing; just fooling around – one that was kept secret from their teachers and anyone, really, since Bobby-boy was too chickenshit to admit to a healthy dose of experimenting himself. John couldn't care less; he wasn't the guy's keeper after all.

Until he somehow turned out to be. What was worse? Without him even expecting it. You see, the thing was… he kinda screwed himself over. For all his puffed-up chest and big shoulders about how he was prudent and cautious, he landed himself in a swamp (or moving sand if he'd so chose to rather stay dry; same difference, though) right there. Knee deep and it was only a matter of time until it swallowed him up whole.

It was all the Ice-berk's ("I'm not stupid, John!" "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.") fault. If he wasn't so pure and open and easy to approach – hell, he, approaching him all of his own! – in the first place, John wouldn't have fallen into this trap.

Who was he kidding. He blew it. Big time.

But it was still all good, right? What he meant was, there was no rush or anything. They could simply keep at it the way they had up til now with Ice Ice Bobby none the wiser and everyone chilling, pun intended.

He should have known that he was never meant to have a happy end. Not ever (as if life hadn't showed him enough indications to that already) and definitely not with Snow White on top of that. When had he sunken so low as to think he even could?

Shame. Shame on you, St. John Allerdyce.

As he was forced to witness and live the changes that wafted in after Rogue's appearance and continued presence, years of evolved camaraderie and any ease connected to it began to shrivel.

He had suddenly more free time on his hands than what he knew what to do with, his subconsciousness developed an almost uncontrollable need for a facepalm at least once per every 24 hour mark, his teeth were bound to rot any day now with the diabetes-inducing teenage romance developing before his eyes and he better man-the-fuck-up right now, because he did not make it this far only to become a sob story.

So, he watched with skeptical interest as Bobby, encouraged by Rogue's supporting words, froze his mother's disgustingly milk-ruined coffee instead. John knew long before they had even opened their mouths, what side Bobby's parents would pick, what their reaction would be. He could not keep his sarcastic thoughts pointed at his roommate from emerging then.

Why did you think, all of a sudden, they won't mind? We talked about your bigoted parents so many times… You think that you having a girlfriend like a good, normal teenage boy somehow neutralizes your negative mutant points?

If not knowing better, John would say Bobby did it on purpose just to fuck with him. Nobody could be that sickeningly foolish after all. And the Drakes? He silently dared them to surprise him; to call their "Art teacher" out on his blatant lie even. To prove him wrong.

Which would be when Wolverine got shot in the head right infront of them. That did surprise him, John will give them that.

An unexpected rush of everything followed right after and with startling clarity.

One too many black eyes.

Sleeping in a cardboard box, freezing (nobody cared).

Broken jaw.

Stealing a pack of matches the first time around – to get to feel at least a bit safe (they were too tricky to operate, to strike with shaking hands, wrong move there wrong wrong wrong).

Hungry, impotent anger.

Running away.

The breath; foul and heavy with booze.

First fire (pure accident please!).

His mother on the floor, bleeding (never fighting back; just taking it run!).

Heavy hands.

Cops chasing him back into slums (you'd have to know it here better to catch me, assholes).

Bloodshot bottomless eyes. A vortex about to swallow him up, too.

Events flashing before his mind's eye at random and in no chronological order.

His heart not having a foggiest how to deal with the overabundance of adrenaline that jumped up out of nowhere.

"And the rest of you, on the ground. Now."

He could almost physically feel Wolverine, right before his feet, lifeless.

See Bobby, lying down, obedient.

"Look, kid. I said, on the ground."

Rogue, too; docile.

They can't be serious. Why were they kidding themselves? They were gonna die here.

"We don't want to hurt you, kid."

Really. The fucking cop just shot Wolverine. If they won't protect themselves… They're dead. If he's not gonna do anything now…

He gulped. Palmed his zippo; the warmed-up steel that bit slicker with sweat. Or sick memory?

C'mon, Pyro, show up. Fight.

In the pit of his stomach, hot magma twisted and curled, warming him up until he could almost sense the licks of unborn fire on his fingertips.

There.

He won't lie down. Not until he's six feet under.

A/N: So I’ve found something of a themesong for EoS I think. If you’re wondering, you can check it here.

A bit of explanation on a side:

My idea is that St. John Allerdyce still has Australian background, he just moved to US with his family when he was a small kid or something. So... just bear with the little mess, please. I love him being "St. John" way too much as to delete half of it from my story.

Also, I’ll deviate a bit from the movies timeline (which is a tangle anyway) in this version (I got two total, don’t panic), which you’ll notice on the transition from X-2 movie to X-3.

[deanlightful]

the horrors of pre-calc

Dean needs someone to tutor him in pre-calc, bad, but the only person available is Castiel Collins, and Castiel is... intimidating.

Read on AO3

“Fuck fuck fuck! ” Dean crumples his recent pre-calc test in his hand and throws it in the trash.

“That bad?” Charlie wonders, eyeing her own with distaste.

“I fucking failed .” Dean grumbles, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of his voice, “Again.”

“Yeah, I didn’t do too hot either. This class is tanking my GPA.”

“This class is bullshit.”

“I mean, it would help if we didn’t suck at math.”

Dean throws up his hands, “I’m gay, what am I supposed to do?”

“That has literally nothing to do with math.” Charlie snorts.

“Yeah, well, whatever. I’m still mad about it.”

Charlie leans against the row of lockers behind her and eyes him critically. “What you need is a tutor.”

“ You need a tutor!”

“Well, yeah,” She agrees, “That’s why I signed up for tutoring yesterday.”

“What the- without me? ”

“You were in the bathroom.”

“Ugh,” Dean slumps against the locker next to her, and is promptly shooed out of the way by the locker’s owner, “Who’d you get?”

“Jo Harvelle.”

“Is Jo good at math?”

Charlie shrugs, “Good enough to be a tutor, apparently.”

“Fuck me.” Dean sighs.

“No thanks.” Says Charlie.

Dean manages to catch Benny Lafitte at lunch, “Hey, are you still doing math tutoring?”

Benny gives him a slow up and down that makes him shift nervously. “All booked up, unfortunately. But maybe I can squeeze you in, if you… really want it.”

“Hah,” Dean swallows nervously, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “No, uh, I mean- not that bad.”

Benny shrugs, “That’s cool. I don’t really have the time anyway, honestly. But, um, call me if you ever want to hang out, yeah?”

“Yeah- I um- okay.” Dean stammers, blushing furiously and backing away. It’s probably his own fault that Benny is so forward, after all Dean did give him a handy last year to repay him for help with algebra. But he’s trying not to say thanks with handjobs anymore.

“No way.” Dean protests, after conferring with Jo about his tutoring options, “I can’t.”

“He’s your only option,” Jo tells him, “And he’s good.”

“Then why isn’t he all booked up like everybody else?”

“Um…” Jo purses her lips, “He’s… intimidating.”

“Yeah, I know he’s intimidating, Jo, I’ve seen the guy.”

“But you need help with pre-calc, like, bad .”

“I’m aware!”

“So… get him to tutor you.”

“Um. That would mean talking to him, and that’s just not in my agenda, sorry.”

“Hey, you came to me for help. I’m helping you.”

Dean absolutely does not pout, but leans heavily against the library desk that Jo is parked at. “Can’t you ask him for me?”

“No.”

“But he scares me.”

“How much do you want to pass math?”

“Ugh, I don’t know .”

Jo raises an eyebrow, “So you’re willing to give Benny Lafitte a rub-off, but you can’t even talk to Castiel Collins?”

“Wha- how- how did you know about-”

“It’s not a secret, Dean.”

“ Oh my god.”

“Look, i’m just saying, you obviously wanted to pass math pretty bad last year. Where’s that drive now?”

Dean rubs frustratedly at his eyes, “Collins just makes me really nervous.”

“Yeah, he makes everybody nervous. Maybe you’d be less nervous if you gave him a handy.”

“God, I give one guy a handjob and I never hear the end of it!”

“Hmm, I heard it was more than one guy.”

“Shut up, Jo!” Dean shrieks.

Dean takes a deep breath, and then another. He’s been working up the nerve to talk to Castiel Collins for a week now, and only another, even more dismal test score has pushed him to finally do it. He catches Castiel after school, as the man strides through the parking lot on his long, long legs.

“Hey, Castiel!” He calls out.

Castiel stops and turns in one smooth motion, his tie flapping in the breeze like a streamer. The crisp lines of his button-down and khakis somehow manage to make him look very adult instead of.. lame. He’s wearing sturdy boots, a large black watch, and a disinterested facial expression.

“Yes?”

Dean scrambles to stop before running into Castiel, and only just succeeds.

“Uh, hi.” He struggles to catch his breath, “Um. Yeah. Okay, so. I was- uh, wondering if you could…” He trails off in the face of Castiel’s impassive gaze. His nerves are going wild, heart pounding, he can’t catch his breath.

“Are you… alright?” Castiel asks, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed with concern.

His gaze is clear and piercing.

“Uh…” Says Dean, mortification growing as he feels his hands begin to shake. “I’m sorry. I- don’t know- I don’t what’s wrong.”

“You’re hyperventilating.” Castiel says, his large hands guiding Dean to sit on the hood of a nearby car, “I need you to pace your breathing.”

His hand is on Dean’s chest, long fingers splayed out over Dean’s collarbone. “Breathe in, breathe out. There we go, keep that up. There we go.”

“Thanks.” Dean sighs as his breathing finally returns to normal. He’s humiliated and blushing furiously, but at least he has his breath.

“Are you alright, now?”

“I think so.”

“What did you need to ask me?”

“Oh,” Dean sighs, suddenly exhausted, “I, um. I was going to see if you would tutor me in pre-calc.”

Castiel looks at him seriously for a moment, “What parts are you having trouble with?”

“ All of it.”

“Alright.” Says Castiel, “I’ll tutor you, Dean.”

“You know my name?”

Castiel gives him a look, half amused, half confused, “We have four classes together, Dean.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“When would you like to start?”

“As soon as possible? I, uh, I need a lot of help.”

Dean’s house is quiet. He can hear the whir of the washing machine, the ticking of the clock over the mantel, and his own heartbeat. Castiel is considering the kitchen with the same sort of expression that one might wear when viewing a piece of art. He looks at the wallpaper, at the stove and the pictures on the refrigerator. He nods thoughtfully.

“I like your house.” He says.

Having Castiel in his house is terrifying, to say the least. He’s so put together, so smart, so adult , and here he is standing in Dean’s mediocre kitchen, looking at age-old macaroni art from when Dean was four.

“So,” Dean slumps down at the kitchen table, “Ready to find out how dumb I am?”

After a moment, Castiel sits down beside him, looking serious as always, “People learn differently, Dean, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I guess. But i’ve had trouble with math my whole life. This is like, a last ditch effort. I just… want to warn you.”

Castiel just looks at him, which he’s done quite a bit so far. He taps the eraser of his pencil on the table, “So you have one bad subject, and you think that makes you stupid?”

“Look, I’m not really looking for a half-hearted  pep talk, okay? I just need enough help to get a passing grade.”

To his great surprise, Castiel reaches out and grasps his wrist. “I’m serious, Dean. You’re not stupid just because you’re not great at every subject. Math isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay.”

“Are you giving up before we’ve even started?”

“What? No, no. I believe you’re completely capable of mastering pre-calculus. I just want you to know that not liking math doesn’t make you stupid.”

Dean says nothing, a little stunned and not sure if he should be embarrassed or not. The following silence is long, and more than a little awkward.

After a while, Castiel clears his throat. “Let's get started.”

Math sucks. It sucks a lot. But having Castiel as a tutor makes it suck a little less.

Yes, Dean is a nervous mess. Yes, Castiel gets to see Dean struggle over math. On the upside though, Castiel smells amazing. His cologne is something like pine and peppermint, and every time Castiel turns to talk to him, Dean gets a whiff of Juicy Fruit gum.

Castiel is by far the most patient tutor Dean has ever had, he makes it easy to say when he doesn’t understand a concept, when he needs further clarification. His voice is gentle, which surprises Dean because he’s always thought of Castiel as such a stern, no-nonsense guy. Turns out, Castiel isn’t really anything like Dean thought he was. He’d had this picture of Castiel in his mind, something like a larger-than-life robot, attractive but cold. Dean has never been more wrong about someone.

“I don’t get it.” Dean sighs, frustrated, “I’m sorry, Cas. I just- I just don’t get it.”

“That’s okay.” Castiel assures him, “Would you like me to go over it again?”

“Can we stop for now? I think my brain is turning to mush.”

Castiel smiles, showing off rows of straight white teeth, dimples in his cheeks. “Sure.”

“I’m starving anyway, you want something to eat?”

“I could eat.” Castiel admits, “You want Pizza Shack?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t have any money. Or a car. I was just gonna… make spaghetti or something.”

“I’ll drive,” Says Castiel, “And I’ll pay.”

“Oh. Um. I mean, I guess.”

Dean has never seen Castiel as relaxed as he is at the Pizza Shack. He’s so… smiley. He’s laughing .

“Hey, um. This is probably going to sound weird, but i’ve never seen you smile before.”

Castiel doesn’t look offended, in fact, he nods. “I tend to be very serious at school. And I… have a hard time talking to people.”

“You seem fine talking to me.” Dean points out.

“You’re easy to talk to.”

“Thanks. So are you. You’re… really different than I thought you were.”

Castiel takes a big bite out of his slice of pizza and shrugs. “I never really feel like I can be myself at school.”

“You always dress like you’re going to a meeting.”

Castiel shrugs again. “Maybe I am.”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, alright.”

“I like to dress nice sometimes. Sometimes I don’t.”

This piques Dean’s interest. “When do you not?”

“When I’m at home. Usually when I go out.”

“What do you like to do when you’re not tutoring dummies?”

“You’ve got to stop calling yourself dumb, Dean.”

Dean ignores him, “When you’re not tutoring.”

Castiel looks at him for a moment, then drops it. “I go to a lot of shows, local bands and stuff, you know?”

For some reason, this revelation surprises Dean more than anything else. “ Really ?”

“Is it really so hard to believe that i’m not serious all the time?” Castiel asks.

“You just keep surprising me.”

“I’m going to a show this weekend. You want to come?”

Dean blinks. “Can I just do that? Don’t I need like, a ticket or something?”

“Ah, no. They’re not really those kinds of shows.”

Dean hesitates. He’s not really the kind of guy who goes to shows. He’s the kind of guy who stays home and has sleepovers with Charlie where they watch old sci-fi movies and drink too much Mountain Dew. God, Castiel is so much cooler than him.

“Okay.” His mouth says, way before his brain has had time to process everything, “Yeah I’ll- I’ll go to a show with you.”

Castiel grins. “Cool.”

When Castiel comes to pick Dean up on Friday night, his mother opens the door.

“Oh, hello dear!” Mary Winchester says gleefully, “You must be Dean’s friend. Come on in! Come on!”

Castiel grins and follows her into the house. Dean is coming down the stairs and almost trips over his own feet when he sees Castiel in casual clothes. He’s never seen the guy in anything besides button-downs and khakis, so seeing him in a band t-shirt and hip-hugging jeans is startling. He looks really really good.

“Hey, Cas! Hi. Uh. You ready?”

“I’m ready.” Castiel says, “It was good meeting you, Mrs. Winchester.”

“Good to meet you too, dear. You boys be safe tonight, okay?”

“Do you want Dean back by a certain time?” Castiel asks, politely.

Mary looks between them fondly. “Just have fun and be safe, okay? And if you come in late, try not to wake your brother.”

“What, really?” Dean asks, flabbergasted. He’s never gone out to something like this before, so he’s never had to ask his mother about curfew, but this is more lenience than he’d expected.

“Yep.” Mary leans forward and kisses him on the cheek, “Now get out of here before I get emotional about you growing up.”

“Let's go!” Says Dean.

The venue is an abandoned warehouse, which makes Dean a little nervous, but Castiel’s hand is on the small of his back. Castiel gets their cover charge and they both gets red stamps on the back of their hands, and the night begins.

The warehouse is crowded, and loud, but everyone is jumping and dancing and the music is good . Dean can’t stop smiling, and Castiel is pressed close to him by the throngs of other people. His hands on Dean’s hips are probably unnecessary, but Dean isn’t complaining. At one point, Castiel wants to get closer to the stage, so he takes Dean by the hand and tugs him along, and then he just doesn’t let go.

By the end of the night, Dean feels… well, it’s hard to tell exactly how he feels. He feels changed, he feels like he might of dreamed the whole thing.

“That was amazing !” Dean gushes on the way back to Castiel’s car, “I can’t believe i’ve never done that before, it was so cool!”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Says Castiel, who has been smiling all night.

“God, you’re so cool!”

Castiel laughs, “So are you, Dean.”

Their hands brush, and Dean, drunk on excitement, grabs Castiel’s without a second thought. Their hands part when they reach the car, but Dean can still feel the ghost of Castiel’s fingers in his. They roll down the windows and Castiel turns up the music, and they sing loudly and badly into the night. The cold wind rolling into the car makes Dean feel wild, like he could do absolutely anything.

There’s a moment, when they reach Dean’s house, right before he gets out of the car, when he’s sure that Castiel is going to kiss him. There’s electricity in the air, Castiel leans forward, but it’s only to thumb an eyelash off of Dean’s cheek, although he does look particularly reverent about it. But no, no kiss comes that night, to Dean’s disappointment. He can’t really be too disappointed though, because the night has been… such an experience.

Going to school on Monday is a little odd, because now he has Castiel’s phone number, and the memory of holding his hand and dancing with him in a crowded warehouse. Now he knows that the button-downs and ties are easily traded for band tees, and he’s not entirely sure what to do with this information.

Their tutoring continues, to Dean’s combined delight and despair. He loves the touch of their knees beneath the table, and the smell of cologne as Castiel leans close to explain a problem, but the math still gives him fits. Nevertheless, the grade on his next test is actually passing.

“I passed!” Dean shouts at Charlie, by her locker, who screams her approval.

“I passed!” He shouts at Kevin, in the library, who looks to be having a heart attack.

“I passed !” He shouts at Castiel, out in the parking lot, who beams and opens his arms to embrace Dean in an unexpected but entirely welcome hug.

“You passed!”

“ I passed !”

“I knew you could.”

“ I didn’t. I thought i’d be stuck in high school forever! Suck it, math!”

“We have to celebrate!” Castiel announces.

“We do?”

“We do!”

“Okay! What do you want to do?”

Castiel laughs, “It’s your celebration.”

“And I want you to do all the work.”

“Right, right. Because teaching you wasn’t enough work. I’m just kidding!” He insists when Dean frowns, “I actually already have something planned.”

“No you do not!” Dean laughs.

“‘Course I do.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise.” Castiel teases, eyes alight with mirth.

“Fuck you.” Says Dean.

“You’ll like it. This weekend, pack a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes. What do you say?” Castiel’s tone is confident, but his hands are in his pockets and his expression is one that almost seems to expect rejection.

Dean gasps, “Are we having a sleepover?”

If Castiel’s grin wasn’t answer enough, his next words are a confession, “It’s not too lame, is it? It’s totally middle school, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s good!” Dean assures him, “I love it! We’ll have a sleepover.”

“Alright, well. It’s gonna be good. So… get ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready.”

Dean is not ready. In no way is he ready to spend the night with his math tutor, who he finds absolutely unbearably attractive, and on whom he has a crush that could easily be described as mammoth . On top of this, he knows nothing about the rest of Castiel’s plans. Will there be other people there? Is it just going to be the two of them? What will they be doing?

These questions plague him through the rest of the week, while he’s packing and telling his mother about his plans. Mary is ecstatic that Dean is going out more and making friends, and lets him go without more than a kiss on the cheek and a promise to behave.

Castiel picks Dean up in the afternoon, and Dean realizes within minutes that they’re not headed toward Castiel’s house.

“Uh…” Says Dean, “Where’s this sleepover?”

“I think maybe you need tutoring in English too,” Castiel says with feigned thoughtfulness, “because you don’t seem to know the meaning of the word ‘surprise’.”

“Shut up.” Dean slaps half-heartedly at Castiel’s leg, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re not taking me into the woods to murder me.”

“You think I’d kill you after all the hard work I put into helping you with pre-calc?”

“You think you’re so funny , don’t you?”

“You think i’m funny.”

Dean glares. “I admit nothing.”

They drive out of the city, and Dean tries again, with no avail, to get Castiel to tell him where they’re going. Finally, after about forty-five minutes of driving through the middle of nowhere, they turn down a road that winds through the woods. Another ten minutes, another turn, and finally they’re pulling into a clearing with a small cabin in the middle of it.

Dean squints suspiciously, “Did you just drive us into a horror movie?”

Castiel laughs and opens the passenger side door, unconcerned. “My older brothers built this. It’s just a getaway spot, anyone in the family can use it. I thought we could watch scary movies, I’ll make a pizza, we can get drunk.”

Dean grins and climbs out of the car, finally convinced, “You got booze?”

“Yep.” Castiel confirms, hauling a crate full of various alcohol out of his trunk, “Courtesy of my brother Gabriel.”

The inside of the cabin in much nicer than Dean thought it would be. He’d been expecting the bare minimum, and is happily surprised. The cabin has power, a big kitchen with new appliances, a flat screen television and an enormous leather couch.

"Alright, lets get started on this pizza."

"Wait." Dean says, "You mean make make pizza?"

“Yeah.”

"Like, from scratch?"

"Totally. With whatever you want on there."

“Alright,” Dean says, falling backward onto the couch, “Lets see it.”

“Do you want to help?” Castiel asks fondly.

“I guess .” Says Dean.

And so, Castiel begins his preparation of a from scratch pizza, and Dean stands nearby being generally unhelpful. It takes less time than Dean thought it would, and soon the pizza is in the oven and Castiel is lugging his crate of booze into the living room.

“That's a lot.” Dean asks, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

Castiel huffs, the crate thunks down next to the coffee table, “Gabriel is a big advocate of underage drinking.”

Dean leans over to peer into the depths, “So what have we got.”

“Whatever you like. We’ve got beer, wine, whisky, vodka. I, personally, am going to try out this Blue Raspberry vodka.”

“Can I get some of that?”

“Absolutely.”

They’re trashed. Way past tipsy, into spilling all your secrets and trying to make out with a desk lamp territory.

They’re in a heap on the couch, limbs tangled until neither can tell what belongs to whom. The remnants of the greedily devoured pizza lays scattered on the coffee table, along with the now half-empty bottle of Blue Raspberry vodka which was, in Dean’s opinion, a truly magnificent idea. The big flatscreen tv blasts Kurt Russell in all his eighties glory, fighting a shapeshifting alien in antarctica.

“God, I love this movie.” Dean says, head lolling lazily onto Castiel’s lap, “I love Kurt Russell.”

Castiel’s hand is carding gently through Dean’s hair, “Do you? I didn’t know that.”

“I had my first sex dream about him.”

Castiel tips back his head and laughs, a big, happy sound. “Mine was Patrick Dempsey.”

“Dempsey?”

“That hair . God, I thought he was so dreamy.”

Dean turns over so that he can look up at Castiel, who has a sort of dazed look on his face. “Do you like my hair?”

Castiel grins loosely and brushes a bit of hair back from Dean’s forehead, “Yeah, I love your hair.”

“Thanks,” Dean reaches up to run his finger along the bridge of Castiel’s nose.

Castiel is leaning closer now, breath sweet and tangy with fruity alcohol, the promise of a kiss lingering on his lips.

“Hell.” He mutters, and sits back up.

“What?” Dean asks, feeling more than a little put out, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, nothing.”

“Cas, come on .”

Castiel leans his head back against the couch and huffs out a breath. He swallows, and again. “I, uh.” He says, “I was… kind of hoping that getting drunk would give me the courage to kiss you. But you’re also drunk, and I realize now that it makes me kind of a jerk.”

“Huh?” Dean frowns. He’d heard the word kiss and lost the train of the conversation.

“Nothing.” Castiel shakes his head, “I’ll fall asleep soon anyway.”

Dean wakes covered in sweat, with cotton mouth and a pounding headache. He rolls his head and meets with cloth and flesh, but his eyes refuse to open.

“Cas?” He croaks.

“Hmm?” Grumbles the cloth under his face.

“Are we dead?”

“Uh... I think so.”

“I have to pee.” The fabric of Castiel’s shirt gets stuck on Dean’s tongue, and he shakes his head to get loose.

“Quit licking me.”

“‘M not licking you.” Says Dean.

Castiel sighs, “If you get off of me, i’ll make you breakfast.”

“But i’m dead.”

“I’ll make you pancakes.”

Dean groans unhappily, but rolls off of Castiel, and the couch. From the floor, he groans again. He hears Castiel get up and walk unsteadily to the kitchen, but, facedown on the floor, he falls quickly back asleep.

“Dean, wake up.” Castiel’s voice comes from above him, “I made pancakes.”

This time, waking up is a little easier, despite the fact that he’s drooled all over the carpet. The sweet smell of breakfast soothes some of the fire in his skull. Dean gets to his feet slowly, through a truly impressive series of contortions and poses, more fit for an acrobat than a teenage boy, and when he’s finally up he views the entire world through a haze of distaste.

“I’m still dead.” He guesses.

“Come on.” Castiel grabs him by the arm and drags him into the kitchen, where pancakes and orange juice wait on the little kitchen table.

Dean falls upon them like he’s starving, which he is.

“Jesus christ,” He says, mouth full, “this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

Castiel sits across from him, eating his own pancakes at much more sedate pace, and watching Dean fondly.

After breakfast, they make their way to the front porch. There’s a swing and a light breeze, and birds singing cheerfully nearby. They sit together on the swing and Castiel leans back and looks at Dean.

“What?” Dean wonders, secretly very pleased to be the object of such single-minded attention.

“Dean, uh.” Castiel wets his lips and looks away, “I, uh, i’ve really liked hanging out with you. And um, getting to know you. And I just- I really like you, you know?”

Dean laughs, “Yeah, I like you too, man.” He says. He has an inkling where this is going, but he tries not to hope prematurely in case he’s wrong. He fails miserably.

“You’ve… kinda become my best friend. And I also, um,” Castiel wets his lips again, “really want to kiss you.” He takes a deep breath and talks very quickly now, “And if that’s a problem I mean whatever I get it, I’ll shut up about it and we’ll never talk about it again I swear to god but I- I just wanted you to know. I guess.”

“Okay.” Says Dean, already leaning forward eagerly.

“Huh?”

“I like you, too. You should, uh, kiss me. If you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel smiles, and keeps smiling as he leans forward and meets Dean’s lips with his own. Dean smiles back, and breathes a long sigh of relief.

“This doesn’t mean you can stop teaching me math, though.” He says, pulling back for a moment.

“Obviously.” Castiel agrees.

Dean remembers for a moment his trepidation at first asking Castiel to help him with pre-calc, and wishes he could have known then what was in store. He would have worn a cooler shirt.

[deadmantalking117]

DR. FEELGOOD

There's an opiod crisis in America. I read about it everyday. Thousands of people who take narcotics to get high. To blunt the pain of whatever is hurting them. Physically, emotionally, whatever. I don't even pretend to have any kind of solution.. I can only offer you an insiders perspective. My very first experience with the good stuff was right after I got married. I'd had a migraine for the third straight day.. I'd get them several times a year.. but this one wouldn't stop. My mom says enough is enough.. I'm taking you to urgent care. Kat had the kids.. otherwise she'd have driven.. she was concerned by now as well. Never had one last this long. At the urgent care.. the guy checks me out.. "are you allergic to anything?" "Are you ok with a couple of shots.. we'll get you feeling better" Not allergic.. hate shots.. but ok fine Demerol and Thorozine Nectar of the Gods I remember it to this day. Full disclosure time. I'm 24 now.. haven't yet run into the issues that are about to start soon. I dont really drink.. been drunk a handful of times. But I dont drink.. just never cared for it.. don't like the taste, don't like the feeling. I smoked some pot when I was 20-21 but I was always paranoid about getting busted.. plus now I have kids.. and you know what that means.. no money for pot. Tried cocaine a couple times. Kat and I would get a little for "date night". But we're talking birthday or anniversary stuff. So, pretty vanilla for a party guy. Just wasn't much of a chemical romance for me. My how things do change. Demerol and Thorozine No ecstasy so wonderful.. no bliss so complete. I went from being almost blind with pain.. to walking on a cloud.. I floated out the door to mom's station wagon. Such a pretty station wagon! My God.. look at that wood paneling! It sooo beautiful! I opened the door and folded myself in half to get in. Mom says "whatcha doing?" I don't wanna hurt the car by banging into it.. It's so tiny and beautiful... "I think you're covered.. put your feet on the floor.. put on your seatbelt please" Home again after the beautiful magic carpet ride full of neon and colors. In mom's beautiful woody station wagon. I floated thru door.. "Oh my, you look better" Kat laughs You are sooo. Pretty ! You know what would great ? Brownies! And sex!.. and sex brownies! And pizza.. we should have everybody over and BBQ. I'm going to lay down for few minutes, watch a movie.. but then sex brownies! Zzzzzzzz. 2 days later when I started coming around. I honestly have never felt that good in my life. 2 days of being completely pain free.. and floating on clouds. Never before.. certainly not since. The problem with being in chronic pain is this. It's chronic.. that means it NEVER stops. Some days arent too bad. You feel crappy... but honestly.. any person over 40 is familiar with feeling pain every single day. I just got a big headstart from everyone else. A lot of days.. far too many days. The pain is crippling. But most people like me have to figure out how to have a life despite that. So, on we soldier. I'm mid 30's... just really getting bad sick. My doctor is an Internist. The kind of general doctor that does innards. Dr. Feelgood was an amazingly good doctor. Everyone in town knew and loved him. Everything's going wrong all the time.. But Dr Feelgood is working overtime to fix it. I'm in serious pain.. everyday.. all day. But he gives me pain meds. Vicodin, Percocet, fiorinol, demerol, pills, patches, shots. We tried everything. I had access to sleeping pills, xanax, valium. Not all at once of course. But in hefty doses. I was dying.. and I just wanted it to be as pain free as possible. Dr. Feelgood was trying his best. There was a point in my life.. because of the years of taking so many narcotics.. I could take absolutely lethal doses without getting even a little buzz. I could get a migraine.. which at the time was common. Go into the office and get a shot of demerol.. and off to work I'd go. It got rid of the pain ok. But no more highs for poor Steve. The party is long over.. and I'm still always in agony. This was a big reason why I quit everything all at once. For the past 5 years Dr Feelgood has been banging his head against my wall. But we had the opportunity to move to another state.. I'd had my 2nd resection.. so this was as good as it was going to get. Off we go. For the next 3 years.. nothing. Some good days.. some bad.. but no drugs at all. But reality does tend to insert itself. The fact of my life is.. I Have to use narcotics most days..and there are millions of people like me. Used properly they are a miracle for us. Buy there are too many people who see how glamorous its is.. being a drug addict looks like one long party for Steve... lets try it! I do make it look glamorous. The problem today in 2017 is the government is seriously clamping down on legitimate prescriptions for legitimate patients. Every time my doctor prescribes narcotics. She gets a letter from uncle Sam. It tells her all the good drugs she's given out vs. How much other doctors have written. You never want to be on the naughty list. Dont stand out! That means they now have to ration out the good stuff. They can't have several patients getting narcotics. So those of us who have a legitimate reason to take them. Can't always get them. Most doctors practices will not even take you as a patient if you are on narcotics! Wont even talk to you about it. So here's my current nightmare. If I lose my current doctor.. I may not be able to get another.. ever. All because of the opioid epidemic It's happened already.. About 12 years ago.. after my 3rd bowel resection.. my GI. said we could try... Morphine. It's good for guts like yours. It helps with pain.. it causes constipation.. which can balance the scales with the diarrhea you always now have. Cuz of the fact that you have almost no intestines left. But there's rules.. you can only get so many per month. There will never be more. Don't ask. No other drugs from any other doctors. Ever. No drug seeking behavior. Ever. Dont feed it after midnight or get it wet. In 12 years I've never broken the rules. Not once. But I had started going to a pain management Doctor. She took over all prescriptions.. but same rules. Thats what they do. And again.. I followed the rules. But she was willing to up the doses over the years. And eventually I was getting some pretty good amounts. Now to be clear. I haven't gotten high from morphine since almost ever. It just helps the pain some.. keeps my guts pretty calm. But one day I get a form letter.. they're closing down the pain management aspect of their practice because of government pressures. Too much hassle. So I go back to my original GI who started me on it, to take it back over. But he just had to retire after serious back surgery. And his partner wont talk to me. RuhRow! What do I do Scooby doo? I was lucky enough to find someone for about a year.. she cut me way down.. but at least there was something. But this isn't really her specialty.. and she's getting the letters from uncle Sam. So.. fuck it.. I quit ! Cold turkey.. I planned it out so I could take off a month from work. Stocked up on ensure.. and T.P. Got ready for withdrawls. They were as horrible as you see on t.v. or movies. Basically it's like having the flu really bad for a couple weeks. After a month I was clean.. but my new nightmare was in full view. I am missing a large portion of my intestines after 3 bowel resections. It's called Short Bowel Syndrome. Everything that goes in.. goes right back out.. fast. No sight seeing along the way. If course the rapid pass through causes severe spasms and pain. I could no longer leave my bedroom. Not ever. I was on the toilet 10 times a day or more. And I barely ate at all. My new GI wasn't to happy about going the morphine route. I remember our appointment a couple months after I'd quit cold turkey. I wrote down my reasons why I wanted her to put me back on. I was bawling as I tried to convey how miserable I was.. I wanted my sad pathetic life back! I don't want to only be able to get out of bed so I could shit myself to death. I begged like dog. She agreed at a much lower dosage.. and of course.. all the same rules apply. Most days.. it's not even close to enough. But at least I can get out occasionally. Work a few hours a week. Play Pokemon Go with the grandkids and my beautiful wife. I get to have some little bit of a life. If anything happens to her.. or she just decides otherwise. My life will literally be over. My entire life is on the line. Every month. I go to pick up my refill prescription from her.. I think.. is this the month she cuts me off? I don't wanna die. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't have the answer to any of this. All I know is that there are thousands, maybe millions of people in this exact same boat. Narcotics are the only thing keeping them alive or letting them have some measure of relief from pain that you couldn't imagine in your worst dreams. Our governments solution right now is to take away all narcotics from everyone.. let God sort 'em out. Crack down on doctors who are trying to keep them alive. Cut funding for rehabilitation services and mental health. The 2 best tools to curb the opiod epidemic. These are just facts I'm sorry to say. I just don't understand how they can be so callous and cruel. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve this.

[spiceukonline]

Logic "Everybody" Review

Logic "Everybody" Review

Originality

Production

Tracks

Lyrics

Impact

2017-05-10

4.2/FIVE

Logic delivers a personal and immersive experience to give the world his message of equality

So I feel like a bit of an idiot now to be honest! I like to think of myself as having a good knowledge of contemporary hip-hop and which rappers I need to be listening to; but somehow I’d missed the boat on Logic completely. That was until a few weeks ago of course, when I stumbled across “Black Spiderman” the second single from this album. This song immediately had me hooked, like immediately! As a hip-hop fan it’s expected that most of the songs you’ll listen to will be quite dark, especially those that speak about serious issues, but that is certainly not the case here! “Black Spiderman” opens with a piano melody, gospel choir and brass instrumentation, the song is an upbeat, vibrant celebration of diversity,

“I don’t wanna be black, I don’t wanna be white, I just wanna be a man today / I don’t wanna be a Christian, Muslim, gay, straight, or bi, see you later, bye / Not perceived by the things I believe or the color of my skin / Or the fact I’m attracted to her, maybe him”.

Using the concept of Spiderman being black to tell people that, whoever they are, they all have the ability to be whoever they want! It’s a powerful message delivered with Logic’s rapid, clever wordplay and Damian Lemar Hudson’s sumptuously emphatic vocals.

Looking further into Logic’s back catalogue I’ve since found out that this album is more than just a single project. This is a concept album which follows Logic’s 2015 release “The Incredible True Story” which tells a story set in the future whereby humanity leaves the planet Earth in search of a new planet named Paradise. On “Everybody” humans have lived on Paradise for 300 years and have discarded notions of race, the album features various skits with American radio presenter “BigVon” as Atom talking with scientist Neil Degrasse Tyson who portrays God.

The scope of this album blew me away and that’s why I feel a bit silly for having only recently discovered Logic’s music now. The cover art for the project is literally a piece of art, seriously! Painted by artist Sam Spratt, it’s an interpretation of “The Wedding at Cana” by italian renaissance painter Paolo Veronese and features many easter eggs including a depictions of everyone featured on the album (including J. Cole who has an uncredited verse on final track “AfricAryaN”), Sam Spratt himself and even a fan named Josh who was included after winning a competition. It’s clear from this as well as the promotional trailer to this album that a lot of work has gone into the concept of this project.

Now to the music itself! Eponymous lead single “Everybody” sees Logic tackling the subject of racism in society with the simple yet compelling lines in the chorus “Everybody people, everybody bleed, everybody need something”. Logic adopts a straight-talking approach to this issue and gives insights into the way racism has directly affected him as a person 

This theme of being bi-racial and therefore experiencing racism from both black and white peers is something that runs through the core of this album and is seen especially on the massive centrepiece of the album “Take it Back”. The track features an incredible spoken verse from Logic which details the experiences that logic has faced since childhood

“You gotta understand, his mother was racist, which is crazy / ‘Cause how in the fuck is you gonna have / All these black babies with black men but you racist” to the racism he faces now as an artist “Now I want you to also imagine / People telling him that he did not live this life / “You just a white boy / You ain’t never experienced that shit / You from Gaithersburg, Maryland, nothing happens there”

But still throughout spreading a positive message,

“And that man is here today, proud / A lover of all human beings / Regardless of race, religion, color, creed, and sexual orientation, yeah, yeah”.

I feel like there’s so much to talk about this one track itself! I love the way  he gives personal accounts, it really puts his views in context and really allows the audience to relate to him as a person. In addition I was absolutely delighted that he promotes equality in not only issues of race but sexual orientation as well, it’s a very progressive stance to see in hip-hop music but one that i’m happy to see spoken.

It’s made clear on this album how Logic’s experiences of being bi-racial have given him a unique perspective on the world and views of racism; the album ends with the controversially titled “AfricAryaN” (originally to be the title of the album until it was changed following a negative response) on which he sums up and reflects on this issue. This track is also interesting due to it’s inclusion of an uncredited J. Cole verse at the end, as hinted at in the album artwork” and following Cole’s comments about doing no more features in April.

Logic does take time on this album to address other issues such as mental health on third single “1-800-273-8225” (a notable title as it is the phone number for the National Suicide Prevention Line in the US) which features Alessia Cara and Khalid. On this song Logic speaks about how suicide is not the only option for people going through hard times. The chorus on this track is interesting as it changes throughout the track from

“ I don’t wanna be alive / I don’t wanna be alive / I just wanna die today / I just wanna die” to “I want you to be alive / I want you to be alive / You don’t gotta die today / You don’t gotta die” 

“I finally wanna be alive / I finally wanna be alive / I don’t wanna die today / I don’t wanna die”.

This theme continues on the next track on the listing “Anziety” on which logic addresses his own struggles with anxiety and ends with a speech directly to the listener “We will accept our anxiety and strive for the betterment of ourselves / Starting with mental health / We will accept ourselves as we are and we will be happy with the person we see in the mirror We will accept ourselves / And live with anxiety”.

If you’ve read any more of my writing you will know that I’m always very happy when artists, especially rappers, talk about issues relating to mental health and was therefore thrilled to hear Logic talking so openly and thoughtfully directly to his audience.

Musically I really enjoyed this album, I’m a big fan of the happy-positive sounding hip-hop that’s everywhere on this album even when discussion themes that are difficult and serious. If I had to compare it to anything I’d have to say it’s like a cross between the vibrant gospel-infused music on Chance The Rapper’s “Colouring Book” and the serious-yet-soulful music on Joey Bada$$’s “ALL-AMERIKKAN BADA$$” (you can read my review of that here). Now this is the third major US rap release I’ve heard tackling the issue of race in Trump’s America this year, the others being Joey Bada$$’s aforementioned album and the other being Kendrick Lamar’s “DAMN.”. What separates this project from the other two is how personal and direct Logic is, Joey’s album spoke about these issues in a more general sense whilst Kendrick’s album was more personal but less direct. Here Logic is open about his views and highlights elements in his life that have shaped these views in his head.

Now whilst I personally enjoyed this I can definitely see some fans not liking Logic’s focus on himself, especially as some of the speech’s can come across as being a little bit preachy and Logic does tend to rant at times. In addition to this it does seem that this album can be a bit one-dimensional with the entire premise of the album being Logic’s experiences being bi-racial, as compared to Kendrick’s album for example where each track tackles a different issue in his life. It’s far from perfect but this album does something that others haven’t done yet, whilst Joey Bada$$ made protest music smooth here Logic makes it fun, personal and inclusive.

[transcriptroopers]

Hello there! You're literally the best. If your blog was gold (which it is), I would mine it every day (which I do). Stepping away from my terrible attempt to tell you how fantastic you are, what can you tell us about Letters of Reprimand? Thank you so much and have a fantastic evening!

Thank you so much! Letters of Reprimand are an official You-Fucked-Up™. You can see the big ol’ formal explanation courtesy of AR 600-37 here or read a more digestible version here. Basically, they’re given either when a counseling is too soft a response for the situation or if counsellings have already been written in the past, or in addition to/instead of an Article 15, which is the go-to punitive measure in the army.Such letters will be written usually by the soldier’s immediate chain of command and are basically the army saying “you done fucked up.” Sometimes these are used instead of official punishment; maybe there isn’t enough evidence or maybe there were extenuating circumstances preventing an official punishment or maybe the CoC was just too lazy to put in the proper paperwork, or maybe they view the LoR as a worse punishment because having one in your file can make it incredibly difficult to get promoted or to get into army schools. Either way, having a LoR in your file means that almost anything bad you do from that point on, the army’s already got dirt on you, and they’ll whip it out to prove a pattern of misconduct even if the next bad thing you do isn’t all that serious. A note: there’s a difference between a LoR being in your Military Personnel Record Jacket and being in your Official Military Personnel File. The former is just for your unit, usually written by your company commander, and will be discarded if you leave the unit. The latter is like, “now everybody knows you’re a fuck-up” kind of reprimand. The latter can only be issued by a General Officer and they have to go through a process in order to do it.The last post I made I mentioned that it’s not typical for fighting to be an automatic discharge, but if someone has a LoR (or, shoot, multiple LoRs) in their file, then your unit might come down hard on you for even a minor scuffle. Letters of Reprimand can be a good or bad thing. It can weed out soldiers who are going to be repeat offenders and it allows punitive measures for things that are unacceptable but otherwise not clearly outlined in the regulations. 

Unfortunately, it also allows ample room for abuse. It’s pretty hard as a lower enlisted to fight a LoR, and I knew one unfortunate S.O.B. who really got nailed with these stupid things Because Reasons. He got a LoR for showing up ten minutes late to formation and then another LoR for his bed not being made right, and then he made the grave mistake of mouthing off to an NCO, and instead of just giving him a counseling or even an Article 15 they actually tried to kick him out because he’d had two prior offenses. Like...guys I’ve known soldiers who’ve gotten DUIs and got busted for drugs and sexual harassment who weren’t treated as harshly. But w/e.Normally a LoR will have numbered paragraphs explaining the situation. Typically the first one will say “this is what you did,” laying out the entire offense as we know it. The second one will say something like “this is fucking ridiculous what are you doing,” and the third and/or fourth will usually outline any punitive actions (or lack thereof) being taken, the reference manuals for these actions, any prior offenses being taken into consideration, and the admission that you have the opportunity to appeal the letter. You also have to formally acknowledge receipt of the LoR with your signature, and if you don’t the LoR can’t actually be used as evidence because they can’t prove that you were actually made aware of the letter. Not that you can choose to say “I’m not signing this.” ‘Cause you can’t say that. Or you can say that but it’s a Bad Idea. You can read an example of a harsh LoR issued to an E-7 who was abusive toward a detainee here. Notice how the letter isn’t pulling any punches or hiding with professionally objective language; the letter straight-up calls the soldier’s actions reprehensible and inexcusable. In this case you can see the soldier has already gone through a court martial, which in my opinion says that this letter was written specifically to affect the soldier’s career from then on. You aren’t obligated to write a LoR, so to go ahead and do it means the guy’s CoC was pissed and wanted him to feel that for the rest of his career. Finally if you want a nice little article about how FUBAR Letters of Reprimand are and legally what is even going on, you can go ahead and give that a read here thank-you-very-much.

-KingsleyWas this post informative? Entertaining? Eye-opening? Then consider supporting SPC Kingsley on Patreon!

[namjoonchronicles]

Handcuffs & Pretty Boys - [EXO] Chanyeol Detective!Au #21

[Part 20] [A/N] Thank you for all the love you’ve given. I can only ask you to continue loving detective ( now /agent) Yeol. And guys, happy new year!

Chanyeol darted his eyes at the view beside you, clicking his tongue. And from his face, you know that he's conflicted. A very emotionally satisfying view, you must admit. "This can't do." He spat, thick fog of warm breath escape his lips.

"What is." You shot. "I'm sending you back home." He clenched his jaws and rested his hand on his hips, exhaling sharp. "I thought once would be enough, and hmm. I really don't fancy doing it twice." He is battling within himself so you stared at him, confused. "Do what?" You hissed. "I thought you were an adult, but I guess you're not, so I'm sending you back because you clearly aren't made for a rational discussion." Chanyeol marches at you and you repelled instantly, clinging to the rail at the edge of the ship's bottom.

"Send me? Send me back? Are you going to twist my head like you did the last time? Stay away from me, you murderer." You climbed on the rails and sat at the top, halting Chanyeol in his steps, immediately. "You're right, I should be more...creative."

"Define creative." You stammered, hurriedly. "Look, there's a sea underneath you, and we're in the middle of nowhere, so if you fall... you know what happens, right?" Chanyeol changes his tone into a more mature like. You looked over your shoulder and shuddered. The sound of the ship's propellers is not something you should joke about. "You brought me here to murder me? Literally?" You panicked, gripping tight on the bars.

Chanyeol held one palm open towards you, sighing with his eyes close. "...So that leaves us to our second option. The one that includes tranquilizers." He reaches behind him like he would take out a gun, "...You use that, we're over, you hear me?!" You shrilled."OK. I go with the third option. We should have the third option." Your voice sounded defeated. "Sleep with me?" Chanyeol makes a confused face. "What's the forth option." You rolled your eyes. "Fuck me."

"What is wrong with these multiple choices. Is there any decent options?" You grumbled. Chanyeol shrugged, maintaining a straight face, "No."

You turned over your shoulders to the raging waters underneath, "...Lucky for me, I'm a really good swimmer." Your body started to tilt backward as you close your eyes. Swaying behind, as Chanyeol's eyes widens and time slowed down. Your grip on the bars loosens, your heels unhooks themselves from the lower bar and you heard the wooden deck creaked.

Chanyeol grabbed your wrist. "Are you insane it's minus 3 degrees in the water right now!" He roared.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but he didn't have to be so dramatic. You know what else is wrong? The amount of trust you have in him. You bet your life. You bet your life to him saving you. He could have changed his mind and let you dived in the cold water. You knew he wasn't going to let you fall. You knew he wasn't going to let go of you. So. Why did you trust him so much? If you don't love him?

You followed him and his lazy strides, by the side deck and he stopped. He turns around and he looks at you, "Walk in the front. Who knows, you might be jumping the rails again." He grumbled. You don't know what's gotten into you but for the first time in a really long time, you actually listened to him. So you entered the side doors back into the cabins, with carpeted flooring. "Keep moving." He directed from behind. Chanyeol had both his hands in his front pocket jeans, looking like an angry boyfriend.

You fidgetted your eyes to him, timidly. Maybe threatening him with your life was a little bit too much. "How much further do I walk?"

"Continue until I said otherwise." He commanded and this time he had his arms crossed. It was too much.

You passed doors, after doors, after doors. After doors. It was endless. You couldn't even tell which side of the ship you are in. Until finally, Chanyeol said, "...Stop."

It was a room of lockers. It had a very dungeon like feel, the kind that ship staffs uses. "Sit down." He said as he walked past you with a nonchalant look and straight to the locker opposite you. "...You better start thinking of what you did wrong, think very carefully and stay quiet unless I tell you to speak." He starts unfastening his over coat and his black T-shirt, showing off his skin. Youlet your feet dangle and your head low. "Trying to jump off the ship is a little bit extreme?" You looked up and chuckled. You gulped at Chanyeol's lean muscle and caught a glance of his pectorals without any means to, while he puts on a new shirt. "...Can I trust you to be more adult about things now?" He asked.

"You're not sending me back, right?" You meekly say. Chanyeol puts on his over coat with a loud huff and cleared his throat, "...We'll see."

"Promise me you'll not lash out." He told you. But the moment you see his face, you just wanted to shoot him in the face. You almost did, but weapons are confiscated at the meeting room. You almost flew across the table to grapple your hand around his neck, but Chanyeol wouldn't let go of your waist. "I need to kill him. I need to fucking kill him!" You roared. Even Sergeant Lee was frightened. "Is it OK to have such impulsive person on board, sir?" She stammered to Chanyeol. "She's usually harmless. Just not to that guy. Yixing, sit down." Chanyeol tries to smile despite holding you down.

The meeting room was dimly lit.

Chanyeol whispered in your ear, "...You do not want the tranquilizer talk to resurface, now do you?" You glared behind, at him. Straightening your oversized white T that extended to your knee and a thick over coat, you had your jeans on, huffing to your feet. You extended your arm at Yixing and shot, "...Truce." Yixing hesitantly took your hand and you gripped them tight. Like, really tight. "Is truce always this painful?" Yixing's awkward dialect echoed across the room of few people.

"Sorry." You spat, soullessly. Chanyeol massages the temple of his head, gently. "Let's...be adults."

Yixing is freed only to tbe brought back under the hands of the intelligence. He was made an informant. They provided him a steady job, and helped pay the maternal needs. They gave him a new identity and now, he's living back in China where he was born. But most of the time, he'll be here; informing.

Chanyeol's decision to make Yixing an informant was something the 'higher-up' are weary of. Chanyeol is young, and his methods are sometimes unconventional, but with the success rate of mission he had led for the past six years, most officials would agree that saying no to his plans is some-what foolish. "Yixing is here to help with the investigation that Wolf wouldn't permit us doing. The investigation underneath Wolf's administration has been deemed fruitless, as you can tell, he seems to be thinking out of the usual pattern. And his credibility is too clean for a police officer."

"I'm sorry. What's that suppose to mean? Wolf is a great director, what's so wrong about being clean?" You raised your voice a little. "He's too clean." Chanyeol flips the iPad and transfer the screen to the projector with one swipe. "Right now we are trying to find Do Kyungsoo, who's suspected to have been the very base of human gambling a.k.a. human trafficking. Yixing here has been providing a lot of detail on new identities, new fake identities that he had come up with everytime a batch enters the country." Chanyeol points to Yixing and he responded with smoldering eyes. You gritted your teeth at him, hissing, "...I'll dig your eyeballs out if you dare look at me that way."

And as though he didn't hear it, Chanyeol continues to explain, "...But Yixing's information is only limited to when they've entered the country, so we got another informant, whom told me about the gambling involving humans," Chanyeol spun his chair at the door behind him and you and Yixing shot your eyes at the twisting handle, "...Come on in." The handle twists hesitantly and Chanyeol leans to you, "...You won't be enjoying this either. But if you do, you'll never hear the end of it." Okay, odd.

Glistening porcelain skin, with blonde mane complimenting his sharp dark brown brows and crimson good pair of lips, it was undeniably, the attractive:

"Evening...Oh Sehun, reporting for duty." He bowed and proceed to the seat in between Chanyeol and Yixing. Chanyeol smiled pleasingly as the head of the meeting. You were staring at Sehun's good looks, as always. Chanyeol had to snap you back into reality. "Earth to midget. Earth to midget. No staring is allowed." He grumbled. "I wasn't staring, I was appreciating art." You shot and had Sehun hiding a smile underneath his hand. "You didn't stare when I walk in." Yixing's face contorted into a glum. "You're someone's husband." You darted at him nonchalantly.

"Oh, right." He said, a moment of realization, he hummed, "...I miss my wife."

Chanyeol threw a stack of paper, making everybody wince. "Focus on me!"

"This is a very serious matter. It's a make or break." He added.

Sehun told him about the human trafficking and how it uncovers. "And then the purchaser stuff them in a container. Before shipping them off to the highest bidder. And it doesn't end there..." Sehun trailed but you stopped him, you interupted, "Wait, I thought you said container... you don't mean actual, containers, do you? The one stack on one another in a large ship at the export pier, that container?" Your face contorts into concern. "That's it. That's the container." Sehun nodded with his whole body, cutely.

"So, when do they start to fill them up? And what do they do to the people being trafficked." Chanyeol kept his tone professional. He was indeed lying about how he 'bad' with words, he was actually excellent in it. Lying, buffoon.

Sehun tutted his tongue, scrunching his face into carefuly thoughts, his brows furrowed as he tries to gather memories. "...At night, usually. The guards are either drugged or bribed, or both. There's always a miscellaneous container set to board a ship the next day, but miscellaneous containers always gets inspected." Yixing straighten's up his body and intrudes, "...That's when I come in."

Chanyeol and you moved your attention to Yixing. He clasped his hands together and rests them on the table. "...Miscellaneous containers need to be declared. That's where it becomes tricky. You can bribe the higher up to often because then, they'll find out about what you do. In this business, backstabbers are every where. Dark lords around trying to fold other dark lords businesses. Dark lords like Do Kyungsoo is nothing short of that greed. So as the old sayings mentions; the one that tosses others, shall be tossed as well. Karma. Kyungsoo is very manic about it. He's extra careful in areas he really shouldn't be. He had both legal business, big enough to conceal his illegal ones."

Chanyeol scrunches his face, "...but what does Do Kyungsoo have got to do with this miscellaneous container?"

Sehun leans towards the table before Yixing could speak, "...They use his company's name!"

You averted your eyes to your hands then to the projector, projecting Kyungsoo's face. "Because private containers don't get inspected." You muttered. "Exactly! Noona, you are surprisingly sensible." Sehun smiles until his eyes turned into a pair of crescents.

You thanked him quickly and turned to Chanyeol, "...Private properties can/or be denied inspection if the company has been in exports for more/or no less than 15 years. Inspection will be done every 20 years lapse time to not interfere with the business. Bullshit, I tell you."

Chanyeol purses his lips and shot his gaze down at the table. "...Kyungsoo's family has been exporting business since 1950. There's nothing wrong with the law. It's the person." His eyes burns into the screen. Boom.

[Part 22]

[illegals-before-war-vets-blog]

Weight Loss Surgery: A Cautionary Lapband Tale

I made the option to own fat loss surgery. At that point, I expected the machines at about 305lbs. Our reasons, as anybody confronted with this decision may agree, were my own. I also made many problems at this time and those I do believe need addressing. The largest were: my alternative to have the surgery within my hometown and the surgery I chose. I live in a town of 100,000+. The Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex area is roughly three hours away. There is an office of doctors within my village newly introduced as performing weightloss surgery, but only two: the Lap-Band and Gastric Bypass. I researched both surgeries and had some ideas about each, but wished to consult with a physician within this office before making my final choice. I did think the Lap-Band could possibly be it for me though as it’s reversible plus a less serious selection than the bypass (as far as having my composition cut up and re-sown together and experiencing complications like the possibility of needing gallbladder surgery, “dumping syndrome,” and malabsorption problems.) My step sister thought we would possess a bypass within the metroplex area prior to I'd my method and was satisfied as being a clam about the whole thing - I hope I’d followed her lead. I met with the physician. I was asked what insurance I had (National Blue Cross Blue Shield) and what technique I'd like. I told them I’d want to discuss my choices and the doctor did a brief run-down of every, but the perspective of the visit was quite definitely “Why did you come here if you didn’t know?” I opted for Panel-Band… after I should have chosen another doctor, but the Lap-Band requires regular follow-up visits for fills (adding liquid in to the group with a slot underneath the skin so that you can keep up with the band’s rigidity across the stomach and cause weight reduction.) I needed to be able to seek this preservation in my hometown and not get for three hours everytime I must be seen. I was ok with all the possibility of slower weight loss since - after spending most of my living in Weightwatchers - I knew slow weight loss was prone to equal permanent weight reduction. The next time I found my surgeon was the afternoon of the process.

I was later told that is what’s called being a “heartbeat with insurance.” I had the process 01/14/09. There is no psych consult, no diet beforehand, no ending up in a nutritionist or exercise consultant - I was informed “eh, should you don’t want it, consider it out!“. Our last stable food and carbonated beverage was 01/12/09. The surgery was a day surgery. I was put under, the group was inserted, I used to be taken to recover, lightly smacked awake, taken up to radiology, built to do an upper GI and swallow contrast material so that they can scan me and ensure everything was ok. This made me start to retch which caused among my surgical sites to reopen. I bled throughout the floor - I still have the blood stained socks. I had been fixed back-up and sent home. For that first twenty four hours, I was floating. I was still high on whatever they gave me in the clinic in addition to the Twilight sleep spot behind my ear that has been placed there to avoid the inevitable sickness I get after being sedated. Next? I had been in hell. I always joked about wanting a Clockwork Orange Diet - one where I experience physical pain or distress in the idea of eating because I realized that’s by what it would try get me to change my tactics since I enjoy eating THAT much. Well, be careful what you wish for… I vomited constantly. I was more nauseous than I've previously experienced my life. I took my pain medication which managed to get worse. The worst part? I was still ravenously hungry. The Lap Band had no impact whatsoever on that. I wanted only to eat as well as the broths and soups I ate made me purge. The entire time I had been nausea, I had been terrified I had been going to ease my band (trigger the group to move which will cause the wrong form of constriction - reports I read about this on the web said that people that did this couldn’t also swallow their own throw afterward.) Band slippage often requires additional surgery to correct and I was already in enough discomfort to not actually want surgery again. I can remember my Mom visiting visit me at this point and me crying and just saying something like, “What have I accomplished? If you had been even considering this, don’t do it.” My husband called the doctor to report how sick I was to the level we thought something was wrong. They shrugged it off. We called again. A doctor finally mentioned maybe it had been my pain medicine. Affirmed, I'd codeine awareness and points were just a little better after I stopped taking the medication, but rather of offering to replace it with something else, I was advised to consider liquid Tylenol… which I quit on because it didn’t help a bit. So pretty much I did nearly all my healing without the pain management whatsoever $6. Besides being physically sore, I was abruptly also faced with a very true experience like mental torture. Struggling to sleep or get comfy, I resigned myself for the chair and watched TV all day. You don’t know how much food there's on Television and soon you can’t have any. My husband would come home from work and I would just cry. I’d list everything I observed and what everybody ate: a detective show with snacks, a show with yummy cereal being nonchalantly eaten straight from your box. It was suffering. I don’t actually remember the post surgery diet I had been on. I believe it had been per week of clear liquids, fourteen days of whole (milky), fourteen days of gentle after which usual food as tolerated. I’m not 100% sure though. I was appointed for my first followup. I believe this was the very first time I left the home, wore clothes, etc. I still felt like death. I presented myself in the surgeon’s office, hunting and feeling like death and he said ‘well done.’ I wondered if he was actually considering me. A pal got me out from the home after week two, but I still felt horrible. Basically it was only a chair vacation, from languishing on my couch to languishing on hers for an evening. I got fourteen days removed from work overall. “They” will say you can probably go back to work after one, but justincase there were complications, I desired extra time to feel better - boy, am I glad I took that much. Even when I had been actually powerful enough after Week-One, emotionally was another story - I would have gone ballistic on everyone initially someone earned a takeout burger for lunch. I continued going in to view the doctor for band fills. We didn’t discuss my plan for treatment or how many fills I would need - in the beginning I didn’t actually feel any distinction as the band tightened. He just kept telling me ahead in. I'll attempt to sum up since I don’t actually remember in what order things occurred after this point. The nearly three years I had the band were one of the most unhappy of my life. My band never slipped or eroded, but I still experienced pain, distress and almost constant vomiting. Anytime I'm expected now by what I went through, I respond the band is “medically handled bulimia” - and I have the damaged esophagus to prove it. Here are a few things I hope I had identified: 1. The band doesn’t make sense Your stomach isn't a sealed box. It’s similar to a sieve. The entire purpose the Lap Band is meant to work is because the location of your belly that triggers emotions of volume which it communicates to your mind is near the top. The band cinches up your belly to produce a little pre-belly pouch that you're designed to fill with food that may trick this place into early thoughts of volume. My surgeon explained the whole aim of eating would be to get pencil eraser-sized attacks and delay MOMENTS inbetween each. You must get so “bored with eating, you obtain up and go do another thing instead.” (Yes, tell someone who is like she's hungry to death to sit in front of food and take pencil eraser-sized bites. That may definitely work.) So tell me this: you often follow this method and pulverize the food to the level that it moves straight through the band and defeats the purpose or you take large enough attacks that you just do fill your pouch, but are then in agony as you feel each little bit of poorly chewed food try to pass through your stoma (your opening from stomach pouch to regular belly. I call it having “food babies.” the 1st time I experienced the feeling of eating something too big to easily pass through this opening, it felt like the worst ice cream headache ever. in my stomach!) 2. To many specialists, you're what I had been: a heartbeat with insurance Surgeons get paid for doing surgery NOT for aftercare. It is likely that really good your physician will probably LEAVE YOU. Hi, if you go have surgery in Mexico, you probably won’t get any aftercare whatsoever! That leads me to the next fun fact I hope I'd have known: 3. If your physician leaves, NOBODY WILL TOUCH YOU. My surgeon left town and got his entire office with him inside a year of my surgery. This left my village high and dry. There is no one around who'd possibly go near me. This made it extra fun once I finished up “obstructed” (the band squeezed my stomach completely closed for no reason whatsoever - I had been struggling to eat or drink anything) and in the ER of a week after he pulled up levels. The original result of the ER was “go away, we don’t learn something in what you have,” but it was a three day weekend and I literally had nowhere else to turn therefore I really had to walk them through just how to consider substance from my group and so I would have some relief. I searched physicians in just a THREE HUNDRED MILE radius and was often declined being a new individual even though I might generate my surgical report which revealed there were no problems with my surgery, or was estimated a ridiculous “New Individual Fee” of anywhere from several hundred a number of THOUSAND dollars. 4. Your insurance means nothing If you find yourself in the position I did, forgotten by your surgeon with no body else inside your area or out who will help you, congratulations: you've now entered the planet of money-for-support! It doesn’t matter that I've unbelievable insurance that taken care of more or less something I needed, without any physician to get my insurance, I was SOL. I resorted to gobetween. A silly middleman company that expected money at the start then called a system of companies near me (I used Austin primarily - the quack in Irving hurt me worse attempting to give me a fill than I’ve possibly ever been injured because situation before) to secure a consultation to get me a fill. I had to utilize this service repeatedly to secure fills to get me back-up towards the stage I was at before the ER had taken some out after I was blocked. 5. You are at the band’s mercy Your Research-Band follows no predetermined rules. It's also suffering from points entirely outside your control like atmospheric pressure. I'm greatly a creature of behavior and might take the exact same similar Lean Cuisine meal to benefit lunch each day. I might have no difficulty whatsoever eating it or -two to three days-out of five- I might put it up. I was also told swelling and water retention within my time may and could make the group cinch itself up. The band is an implanted medical device. Think very carefully about all of the ads you see on TV: “Call 1 800-fat-sttlmet4u if you've had any of the following… Attorney Steve can struggle for you!” If anything goes wrong with it, you face more negative effects or surgery. Our group really had a recall released on it not too long after I got it: just a little item used to video the port’s tubing and keep it from getting kinked up might come undone and cause said kinkage to occur. The top part: the recall was for groups not already introduced. For me who already had it? “Don’t worry. Take no action. You’re probably fine.” The worst thing I concerned about was getting blocked again with no one to assist me. Because the best move to make is fear and stress, I immediately thought of one of my personal favorite books/movies: “The Stand.” there is a whole chapter within the book dedicated to individuals who might have survived the plague if they hadn’t performed x/y/z (ruptured appendix, dropped off bicycle and cracked skull, etc) and gotten killed. I immediately put myself in this type: the planet ends, I endure, except my stomach pushes automatically shut and I starve to death. 6. You may still make most of the wrong choices What no one told me and that I failed to reveal within my research about the band is: the group can be a software for weight reduction, yes, but it’s an unhealthy one. As your stomach is intact, you can still extend it. The quack I discussed earlier in Irving stated an individual he was seeing who was able to stretch out his pouch so far an upper GI revealed that his bag simply mirrored his intact stomach BELOW the group (one stomach, then lapband, then your other stomach.) There's also something called “soft calorie problem,” where your band could possibly be too small (a state my surgeon had me constantly active in before he left.) You're physically struggling to create the “right” possibilities as it pertains to food since the right choices hurt. It never ceased to surprise me how I was suddenly limited within this respect after the band. I got to where I had endless cravings for salad since I hadn’t consumed a salad just about the complete time I was banded. The greens were a no no for me and might get trapped and irritate me until I threw up. This kind of irritation can also be what would cause possible congestion because I’d get swollen. You start making choices which are easy rather than right - high-calorie, creamy, fatty soups, milkshakes, icecream - items that are simple to eat since they get through the group and don’t cause any pain or discomfort. 7. You can still get it all back I suppose I knew about that potential, but I didn’t desire to consider it. All in all, I lost about 70lbs with the band all together. The truth is: because it didn’t impact my hunger whatsoever, all it did was delay the expected. Each food and eating related motivation was still there, I had been just physically unable to show it. The month the ER did a partial un-fill as a result of obstruction? Yea, I gained 20lbs. I lost it again after I got re-tightened, however it showed me the report. I was probably only about 10 or 15 pounds up when I finally chose to produce a change. I joined Weightwatchers for your thousandth time and began rising and following - anything I should have done since Day One with the group. I don’t understand what I was thinking. I was told a great deal of things about exactly what the group was supposed to be and there were also plenty of things that I will did that I didn’t. * * * So I was un-banded (disbanded?) on Dec 6th (RIP Lappy 01/14/09 - 12/06/11) and opted for the gastric sleeve. I realized that when I didn’t get another type of surgery - for all my exercising and good intentions - without that safety net, I would be backup past 300 in per year.

My experience was the precise opposite of the Lap Band in almost any way. I'm amazing and hope I obtained the sleeve to start with and didn’t waste almost 36 months in misery, but what’s the cliché? Hindsight is always 20/20. The sleeve was still being polished as a method in those days so I may not have been as pleased with it then as I am now so - here’s a different one for you - everything happens at its time and for a unique explanation, I suppose. I began writing this as a comparison of every encounter (thus the expanded URL), but I realized I'd way too much to publish and so the gastric sleeve will need to have its own heart later. I do very much acknowledge this IS one person’s experience. There are lots of other folks on the market who enjoy their Lap Bands and have had fantastic experience together. I simply wanted to inform you what happened tome just in case you are making a fat loss surgery decision right now an Get acquainted with more about Centralia Orthognathic Surgery Surgeons