#once i get my permit and a job i might try that out

[ghoodles]

What i really want to do is go out and do random shit as spider-man noir

But i do not think anyone i know irl would go with me as another spider so that people wouldnt mistake me as a robber or smth

.. and boost my own confidence

[void-ink-studios]

Gala of the Gods (Part 3)

Alright, Part 3 is here!

You get art this time around as well, as I couldn't resist drawing their fancy outfits! Hmm, nothing like attempting to draw these characters for the first time in fancy clothing with patterns and shit, I'm a smart one.

Hope y'all enjoyed this little 3-parter. If anyone have more ideas, I'd love to hear it, because I like writing these two.

Also, before you read, just as a heads up, it gets a little suggestive at the very end. It's a firm fade to black, but it is a thing that exists. Look for a line of dashes if you'd rather not read it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 -You Are Here-

Word Count: 2,300

The Organizer was not a god of... standard form. She wasn't a god of standard anything, to be fair. Scarab couldn't recall many run-ins with her, as their work very rarely overlapped, but that did not make sitting in her office with her staring down at him any more comforting or less nerve racking.

There was a constant noise, as her many, many arms carried on with her daily tasks. Some were writing, others were stamping, some were shredding, it was all happening at once. Her many eyes free roamed around the office as she worked, but she had decided to keep maybe half a dozen glued to the two gods sitting across from her desk.

Lucky them.

No one spoke for a long time. Scarab just nervously fiddled with his can, while Prismo seemed to be doing his best to will the floor to swallow him, shoulders coming up to his ears.

"I thought I had made the policy of fighting at my Gala very clear." Her voice echoed all over the room, rather than coming from some visible mouth. The both of them flinched at the sudden break of silence. "Scarab, while I might be less surprised due to past behavior, I must say I'm still disappointed with your recent track record. Prismo, I can't say I expected to see you in my office of all gods."

"But-"

"I-"

They both started at the same time, but were silenced by a single raised hand.

"However. I am not all-knowing. That is the Observer's job. Prismo, you are not one to cause problems often. And Scarab, despite your difficulties with others, you always filed your paperwork on time. So, I am giving each of you a chance to explain yourselves."

Scarab waited for some signal from her that he was permitted to speak.

"...Prismo, it was you who started it, so you will be first to explain yourself."

Prismo audibly gulped.

"O-Okay... I'd just like to clarify, Scarab and I were not fighting, not in the way you might be expecting. It was my fault..."

Scarab's eyes widened, about to jump in, but was silenced by a hard glare from the Organizer. She gestured for Prismo to continue.

"I lost control over an aspect of myself, and started lashing out. Scarab was just trying to neutralize the threat and calm me down. He wasn't trying to hurt me. Just stop me from hurting others."

There was more silence as the Organizer mulled this information over. Her gaze shifted to Scarab.

"Scarab. Can you confirm this story?"

"Yes ma'am. I was not trying to do harm onto Prismo. I had never seen that aspect of him act out, and I was not sure if or when he could regain control. So I worked to put a stop to it. The only weapon I used was a glorified flashlight."

"I see." Scarab saw distantly a set of arms start sorting through a filing cabinet. "Can you tell me why this aspect of Prismo got so out of control? Last I understood, Prismo, you had achieved complete control and cohesion with all aspects of your dream form. Has this changed?"

"No, no! It's, uh, different..."

"How so?"

"Well... my nightmare aspect only flares up under extreme negative emotions... Stuff life fear or really bad sadness or... when I'm really, really angry. That's what happened tonight, ma'am. I hit a boiling point and it... blew up."

She gave a pointed gaze toward Scarab, causing the beetle to sink into his seat.

"No! It wasn't Scarab's fault!"

"It wasn't?"

"No! I mean, Scarab's related, but it wasn't his fault!"

"How is he related, but not his fault, Prismo?"

Prismo ran a hand through his curls, trying to collect himself.

"So, Scarab's been under my management after the whole Fionna and Cake fiasco, right?"

"Yes, I remember signing that change of management form. I must say, I was a bit confused when I heard you had volunteered. My understanding was the entire incident was caused by a conflict between the two of you."

"It was but... well, the whole thing was my fault to begin with. I did make a rogue universe, and Scarab was just doing his job. He went too far at the end, and it was definitely more personal than his other cases, but I still did what he said I did, and he was right to try and do his job."

The beetle sighed. This was a conversation they had had many times. A lot of confusing feelings had needed to get detangled if they were going to live together. They had forgiven each other for quite a while.

"So, what did Scarab's assignment to you have to do with what happened tonight?"

"Well, Scarab and I have been getting closer. Bonding. We're actually really close now." The Organizer have him a very knowing stare. "I consider him one of my best friends and... I've been learned a lot about him. A lot about how he's been treated by our coworkers and... it wasn't nice and it wasn't fair. I've been getting more and more angry at the others for how they've been treating someone they don't even know, particularly Orbo."

Prismo's hands clenched into fists as he took a deep breath. The Organizer hummed. "What happened between you and Orbo?"

"Orbo cornered me tonight and tried to convince me that Scarab was changing me for the worse because I've been less than nice to him and others who keep trying to act like Scarab's some sort of monster. I got sick and tired of people acting like I was stupid for helping him, that I'm being manipulated. I'm tired of hearing 'Poor Prismo, getting stuck with Scarab, it's so sad for him', like I didn't volunteer for it!"

Scarab felt his mandibles tense... that's what had happened...? Orbo said that...? Was it... true... was he changing Prismo for the worse?

"Orbo making these comments are... interesting."

Scarab raised a brow. "Interesting how?"

"Because he filed complaints and write ups for you every Glob Forsaken time he thought he could."

All color drained from Scarab's face. His heart raced, and he started shaking enough for his carapace to click together.

"He what?!"

"He's submitted thousands of these things over the years. Pretty much none of them went anywhere because the Observer never confirmed the infractions described in the write-ups. Of all your write ups, only three have ever been acted on."

"...Three...?"

"Yes. The first two had notes that Orbo had the authority to discipline as he saw fit within reasonable boundaries. The third lead to the decision to move you into Prismo's management."

Authority to discipline as Orbo saw fit...

He touched the cropped stumps of his former antenna... he felt the lingering burn in his shoulders from his ripped wings...

"Do you... know what those punishments were...?"

"I was not privy to details. Just that they were carried out, and you returned to your duties."

There was a heavy pause, as both Prismo and Scarab processed that news.

"Well, if what you say is true, and I will be calling in the Observer to confirm, then it seems a meeting between Orbo and I is in order. However."

Prismo took hold of Scarab's hand.

"You two did break one of my only rules of the Gala. While it might not have been a true fight, it did cause panic and damage in the Judgement Hall. While it was not either of you who instigated the conflict, it was you two who escalated it to physical violence. It needs to be addressed."

The Organizer pinned the both of them down with a withering stare. Scarab would never not feel like he was a child around her.

Especially now. He saw the way her hands moved, the relentless precision with which she worked. It would be... frighteningly easy for her to pull his arms or legs off... He cast a worried glance to Prismo. His mortal body was much... softer than Scarabs... it... wouldn't survive getting plucked apart...

"...As punishment, you two are going to be my assistants for the time being. Prismo, your job as Wishmaster is still in effect, and you both will be allowed to return to the Time Room. However, you should expect paperwork to periodically be teleported into the chamber. I expect you both to work to complete that paperwork in a timely manner, as accurately as possible. You will be granted limited access to the divine records room for reference. Failure to perform this new duty will have me dragging the both of you back in here. And I won't be as nice next time."

There was a decisive stamp suddenly in front of them, as the Organizer slid a piece of paper in front of them.

Scarab read it. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He almost wept. Paperwork. He could handle that. He wasn't getting pulled part today. Prismo wasn't getting pulled apart today.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am" they both said together.

"Good. Now, off you go, I have a Star Core I need to speak with."

Before either could say another word, they were warped away in a rainbow of light, and deposited quite ungracefully on the floor of the Time Room.

"Ugh, that sucks a lot when someone else is warping me... Paperwork's gonna suck though, right Scrabs?"

Prismo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. He spotted Scarab in the corner, huddled down, making himself as small as possible. His heart squeezed as he crawled over to him.

"Hey Lovebug..." He tried to put his hand on his shoulder, but the beetle shied away from the touch. "...Are you okay...?"

Scarab sighed a tired chirp. "No Prismo... I'm... not okay. You were... so angry... you were angry because of me... You're... you're very frightening when you're angry..."

Prismo frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, Lovebug. That wasn't your fault..."

"But it is... You've been so... so kind to me, Prismo... So accommodating and forgiving and sweet... You're making enemies out of friends over me... And... what have I done? What have I done to deserve any of that..."

"Scarab, no-"

"Look at me, Prismo" he snapped. "I'm... not worth this... I'm not good, not like you. I've just been... a problem. An obstacle. Something to work around..."

Scarab's voice sounded so small... Prismo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

"Scarab. You are not an obstacle. I do those things because I want you to feel safe and cared for. And... tonight, you've done more than anyone really has before."

"...How...?"

"Look... When Nightmo takes control, there's not much hope for me coming down on my own. He's a protective measure, but he works too well. He feeds off of negative feelings, the fear and anger around him. He just gets bigger and bigger and more hostile, until there's nothing left to feed on. He has to be subdued or he'll destroy everything around him. I've... I've never seen him back down willingly. Not until tonight."

Scarab looked into Prismo's eyes, wide and uncertain.

"But... but he didn't back down, I had to neutralize him..."

"Scarab, you talked Nightmo down. Yeah, you had to get him small enough to pay attention, but it was your words that got him to fall back. He... He knows you're safe. He'll retreat because he believes you'll protect me. And that's... never happened before. Ever."

Scarab saw the tears pooled in Prismo's eyes, a sad and tired smile spread across his face. He pulled the beetle closer to give sweet kisses to his cheek and neck.

"You've been opening my eyes, Scarab. I was only everybody's pal because they thought I was... in on the joke. I didn't even realize what complete and total wads they were, because they thought I was "cool" or whatever. I don't want to be friends with people who could do the things they've done to you, just because they think no one will care. I have standards. And now I know they don't meet them. I'm not losing friends over you, I'm just finding out who really is and isn't a friend."

Prismo placed a soothing hand at the base of one of Scarab's wings.

"So no, Lovebug. You're not making me worse. You make me, even the worst parts of me, feel safe. I love you. All of me loves you."

Scarab should've been a bit embarrassed by the noises he was making, but it didn't particularly matter now. Not when the two trapped each other in a tight embrace, and a loving kiss. Mandibles threaded through gray hair, talons touched the soft skin they found, and gentle hands soothed aching shoulders.

"I love you too, Prismo" Scarab whispered as they separated for air. He chirped softly as the Wishmaster continued kissing at his neck, his wings twitching and fluttering as best they could.

-----------------------

"...You're so beautiful. You look so beautiful like this..."

Prismo's hands held his waist firmly, thumb rubbing at a seam in his carapace.

"Hmmm... What are you planning, oh great Wishmaster?"

"Well... We do have these bodies. For a little bit longer. I've got no plans for right now. But I could. Or, we could cuddle. Up to you, Lovebug."

Prismo busied himself with Scarab's neck again as the beetle thought. Or, well, as he tried to, but his own shell was suddenly feeling a bit warm. One of his claws traced around the Wishmaster's neck and shoulder.

"I... I think you're quite beautiful as well, Prismo. I'd be... willing to explore whatever plans you might come up with."

Prismo gave him a peck on the cheek, a maybe slightly smug grin on his face.

"I think that can be arranged."

And he closed the door of the Time Room.

[abbyromanoff]

dark!gp!nat x dark!stripper!reader, were natty thinks reader is all innocent and even w reader's job she's just a sweet little thing, only to one day at the club one of the male stripper's flirts with Nat and r sees everything so she basically walks to her girlfriend's side and starts to bite at nattys neck, marking her all up, Natasha is surprised at this but also smug about it after that reader starts getting distant. Natasha, being the insane mf she is, starts stalking her only to see reader murdering the stripper that flirted w her

(Smutty 😈😈😈)

That shit turns me on

Pairings: dark!g!p Natasha Romanoff x dark!reader

Warnings: dark fic, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, smut, horribly written smut tbh, fingering, unprotected sex, small dirty talk, jealousy, little bit of angst

Word count: 1,698

Summary: again just the ask written down in a story

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“Miss Y/L/N will be out in a minute, for now you can take a seat.” The bouncer told the redheaded woman. She sighed and plopped down onto the chair, it wasn’t her first time here, in fact she’s been here many times before all for one person, you. Every weekend she’d come here and watch you dance on the pole and then ask for a private dance, at this point you’ve gotten used to seeing her.

The buff man approached you as you finished your dance. “You have that redhead in booth 4.” You nodded and thanked him. Getting ready you looked yourself over in the mirror, making sure you looked good for your favorite customer. Over the few months that she’s been going here now you grew a bit of a crush on her, I mean it was impossible not to. Her amazing personality and her stunning looks drew you in right away. With most customers you’d usually feel slightly uncomfortable, especially since they were mostly middle aged men who were tired of their wives so they decided to try and feel you up instead. Of course the bouncer would end up kicking them out but you’re lucky you’ve never experienced that with Nat.

Walking into the small booth you approached the woman seductively, discarding your bra and throwing it off to the side. She eyed your figure as you turned around, bending over to show off your almost fully exposed ass. You heard a groan come from the woman and went to grind against her crotch, using the arm rests to hold you up. You felt her cock getting hard under the confinements, making you grind slightly harder. She threw her head back in pleasure as her hands held the armrests with all her might, trying her best not to touch you all over right then and there.

You noticed this, she did it everytime. “Why don’t you come back to my place after this, there you’ll be able to touch me here,” You said while grabbing your breasts in your hands, “And maybe even here.” Your hand went to cup your covered center this time, letting out an exaggerated moan to rile her up.

At the end of the dance you told Nat to wait for you, telling her that you need to clock out and get dressed before she could take you back to her place. While she waited for you a woman came up to her, “Hey gorgeous, you looking for a dance?” Nat internally cringed at the nickname, it would sound way better coming out of your mouth. Although she still had to be polite with the woman.

“Oh, uh, no thanks. I’m actually waiting for someone.” The black haired woman looked to where she was pointing.

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Y/N. She’s always talking about you, but I guess now I see why.” She tried seducing Nat once again, this time stroking her arm with her hand. Nat was starting to get fed up.

“Look miss, you’re really pretty and all but-” “Ready to go babe?” The both of them turned to look at you, seeing your face smile that tried to hide your anger.

“Yeah, let's go.” Nat said as she took your arm in her own, not missing the glare you gave your coworker on the way out.

“Babe?” Nat repeated your words from earlier as she led you to her car. You got in with a small red tinted on your cheeks from embarrassment.

“Yeah sorry about that. I guess I was a little jealous.” You said with a fake chuckle.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed sweetheart, I liked it.” Red painted your cheeks once again, this time it wasn’t from embarrassment.

Over the next two weeks you’ve been distant with Nat, whenever she’d request a lap dance from you it was denied, the bouncer would just tell her that you’re too busy. She’d start to leave until she caught a glimpse of you grinding onto another woman in the booth. You took her home with you after, just like you did with Nat not long ago. She hated to admit it but her crush on you has grown into an obsession.

She’d find out about your work hours and hide outside the building after, planning on following you home. She would take hundreds of pictures of you without you even knowing, she now had a whole shoe box filled with them. Whenever you’d go out with someone, whether it was a date or a hookup or even just seeing a friend she’d be hiding in the corners and would make sure nothing happened.

She was sick of this, all she wanted to do was explain the situation and ask you out on a date. She made a plan and followed you home once again, not noticing how you stuffed something in your trunk before leaving.

When you arrived at your place Nat made sure to park far enough from your home so you wouldn’t see her. Getting out of her car she walked over to where you were, hiding in the bushes near your front yard. She was confused seeing you lift what looked like a body bag into your home so she went into the garage door before you could close it.

When she entered the house she heard screams coming from the basement, worrying that you might’ve been in danger she ran down as fast as she could only to spot the woman from a few weeks ago tied up to a chair screaming for help. You turned around when you heard her gasp and smiled at seeing her face.

“Oh baby, I thought you were going to wait for me.” She said, confusing the victim even more.

“I know, I know but I just couldn’t wait any longer.” You said while wrapping your arms around the back of her neck and kissing her on the lips. You’ve both planned this night out, you would get the girl and the two of you would kill her together. Nat thought you might’ve bailed out on her since you’ve been ignoring her all month, but you wanted it to be a surprise.

“Well I’m here now. So, shall we start?” “We shall.”

The two of you tortured the old friend for what felt like hours to her. She was begging you to just end her life because she couldn’t take it anymore, but you and Nat had something else planned. You both dropped your weapon and connected your lips, already starting to discard your clothing. She ripped off your shirt and used your breasts as stress balls, squeezing and massaging them. When she dropped to her knees the woman's eyes shot open in shock, you were really going to have sex with Nat right in front of her. The redhead pulled your pants down swiftly and spread your legs, giving pecks to your exposed inner thighs.

She stared into your eyes and gave you a smirk. “I think our guest deserves a nice show, don’t you?”

“Oh I think so Natty.” You both giggled as she continued her screaming through her gag and Nat removed your panties, a shiver going down your spine when the cold air hits your cunt. Nat doesn’t wait any longer and dives right in, switching between sucking your clit and teasing your entrance with her tongue. You threw your head back as you basked in the feeling. Nat quickly lowered her own bottoms and grabbed her cock, starting to jerk herself off while still fucking you. She used her other hand to run them across your folds and entered you with one digit. Your moans increased in volume as did the guests' cries for help. Her finger went at a rapid pace, fucking you like there’s no tommorow. Nat stood up before you could finish and replaced her mouth with her length, slipping inside of you without ease due to her fingers previously stretching you out.

“Fuck baby, you’re so warm and tight, could be in you forever.” She whimpered out, going to attack your breasts with her mouth once she finished speaking. She drove in and out of you, skin slapping could be heard from a mile away. Her dick could easily reach your g-spot, knowing your body as if it were her own she was able to find it no problem.

“Yes Nat! I’m gonna cum all over your fucking cock!” You yelled out. The pleasure was too much, it felt like you were going to explode any minute with her mouth stimulating your breasts and her length sliding in and out of you repeatedly. She added her hand to the mix, rubbing your clit in circles as you squirted all over her stomach.

“Shit! Feels so fuckin’ good baby.” You said as you clawed at her back, leaving red lines all over her. She quickly pulled out and stroked herself, wanting to cum all over your body. While you were calming down you replaced her hand with your own, jerking her off at a fast speed. When you used your hands to massage her balls she spilled all over you. Spurts of cum hit your tits and your face as she finally let go. You used your finger to wipe it off and inserted it into your mouth, sucking off her juices while making eye contact with the barely alive woman in the chair. Nat bit her lip as she watched you moan around your finger, using her mouth to lick off the remaining bits on your chest while staring up at you with love in her eyes. She admired this dark side of you, the one that would kill and torture anyone that she asked of. You stood up and grabbed the weapon that Nat earlier dropped on the floor, taking her hand and interlocking it with yours that was placed on the trigger. You both shared a passionate kiss as you finally shot the woman in the head.

“I love you so much, my beautiful wife to be.” You smiled at her words. “And I love you so much more my amazing wife to be.”

[irenadel]

Pygmalion.

Chapter 4. She rose to his requirement, dropped the playthings of her life.

This chapter gutted me so once more, no beta we die like suicidal teenagers, set after the fateful murder/suicide of “The Only Man In The Sky" The slow burn up and turned the fuck on. We have smut, I repeat we have smut. It's not the smut we need maybe, but it's the smut I deserve. Homelander still needs a friend tho.

Chapter 1. That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain Chapter 2. We sat grown quiet at the name of love Chapter 3. He touched me, so I live to know that such a day, permitted so

He knew you could feel your phone vibrating (the newest, most expensive thing you owned since a harried Vought assistant had delivered it to your door), both because he could hear your heart speeding up in anticipation and because, through the flimsy barrier of your store’s concrete roof and thin ceiling tiles, he could see your hand fly to your back pocket. He was also able to catch a glimpse of the brief pull of your exasperated smile.

He needs you to stop fucking smiling and hurry it up, he thinks almost fondly.

Unfortunately, that quick grin costs you. Whatever goddamn idiot you are trying to service seems to think you are laughing at him (you should, he thinks, rolling his eyes, bored already) and that sets your customer off. And for a second, Homelander is almost pleased by that cocksucker screaming at you. It serves you right. Because you’ve been WASTING your time (his time) and kindness (HIS kindness, HIS rightful property) on the fucking undeserving mud. He’s had to hear you speak to this pathetic, daft old man in the same cheerful, soothing voice you use for HIM. You’ve been smiling at this idiot with that stupid, sickly-sweet (wonderful) smile of yours (his! his by right!) and he, for one, is fucking fed up with it.

It catches him off-guard when you start to cry. The anger comes first, surprising in its suddenness because he’s become so unused to anger when you’re around. But goddamn it, you cry so easily! It’s frankly embarrassing. He feels it hot and indignant and nauseous in the pit of his belly, like he imagines being sick must be like. Cannot decide who this anger is for: you, your stupid job or that idiot trying to apologize. He wants to break something about this, he is going to BREAK that asshole as soon as you stop your sniveling—

“Hey!” Your manager (insignificant, pathetic and completely outside of Homelander’s scope of possibilities) steps in between you and the half-irate, half-apologetic customer (“I was just telling her I didn’t need a fucking online profile! She doesn’t have to get so fucking worked up!”). His authority is immediate and definite and Homelander feels the alien white-hot burn of envy. “You can leave, sir. Customers who speak like that to my people are not welcome here. Goodbye.”

He hugs you and calls you something in Spanish that makes Homelander bristle in outrage. Sends you to your overdue lunch and you are so pathetically grateful it makes him ill.

It’s not right. It is, in fact, obscenely wrong. He feels strangely and absurdly robbed and considers flying off to leave you fending for yourself. It would serve you right if he did. You would have certainly earned it, missy—

Except you don’t quite make it to the roof. You stop on the last couple of stairs, settle your stupid little packed lunch and sit down, face hiding between your knees. You don’t cry anymore, Homelander would have known if you did, you just take deep, gulping breaths… 

He feels stupid for a moment… Then he decides he’ll be damned if he lets you rob him of your tears as you had robbed him of your gratitude.

He breaks the roof’s lock and crushes its alarm mechanism before you have time to even turn his way, let alone protest, and takes advantage of your shock (seriously misplaced, you should know better by now) to sweep his cape out of the way and settle theatrically by your side.

“So… what’s for lunch?” He tries, offering you his best camera-worthy grin and you take the bait for a second before bursting into tears again. You’re such a pain, Homelander thinks, pleased as you, at long last, fall into his arms and let him be your hero. What would you do without him?

Probably bore someone else with your little complaints.

It turns out that what’s for lunch is leftover Thai from Lumlum on 49th between 9th and 10th for him and a salad with shredded chicken and (in his opinion) an excess of bell peppers for you. Homelander is equal parts annoyed and flattered by the leftovers, carefully curated from your dinner last night with the only one among your pathetic friends who can actually afford to eat out. It’s not too spicy, I could stand it and I’m shit at spicy curries, you tell him confidently and he relents solely because he enjoys your endless attempts to get him to eat new things.

You’re still weepy, but Homelander is pleased to see that the city sun, his own marvelous self, and the well-worn routine of your lunch hour has finally made you relax enough to fill the empty spaces with your chatter.

You’ve been doing this since you started going back to work full time at the end of your semester. You bring enough lunch for two and he, Homelander, lets you bask in his presence for one glorious hour of your ordinary life. He sees it as a sort of charity work, given how much it perks you up, no doubt massively improving your day.

Sometimes you talk. Well, most of the time. You talk a lot. It was… unsettling, the way you would get him to spill whatever it was that bothered him. He would start with complaints about Ashley and the incompetent board at Vought and then he would be telling you about Stan Edgar, or god forbid, Vogelbaum. (Or at least a version of Vogelbaum… one you could understand.)

You always had something interesting to say.

“… I get it… sometimes you wish they’d done something that left scars then you’d feel like it was real. Like it counted.”

And then he’d be paralyzed with sympathy and longing. Like he’d almost reached something, some important bit of understanding that had eluded him. Like there was a physical thing between you, tying the two of you together. You’d have found a better way to say it.

Today, you sounded more tired than outraged. He did not like the defeat in your voice.

“… it’s not that I want it to stop… it’s just that it grinds you down, and I don’t know if it’ll ever get better… if it’ll ever stop being so hard and I’m so sick of trying.”

Something like alarm bells pulse through his veins and in a panic-stricken moment he grabs for your wrists (leaving bruises you will later ignore, because by now you have ignored every other warning sign), holds you away from him like you could burn him (hurt him, by means he has only just begun to understand). You don’t seem to grasp the depths of it, just a bare glimpse of the animal fear that had gripped him for a second, and try, immediately, to diffuse it as best as you can.

“Jesus don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean that, I mean… you know?” But there’s that tired look of defeat on you again, like even complaining takes too much effort, as you gesture at your own body (soft, so soft and comfortable in his arms he suddenly wishes he’d had thought to hold you again instead). “Eat right, exercise, work, study, don’t forget to create shit to stay sane… And it feels like none of it truly matters. Like I’m fighting all the time, just fighting against the weight of my own unimportance… my deep, profound smallness… ideas like everyone else, dreams like everyone else, nothing new, nothing relevant… just waves and waves of remembering how fucking unremarkable I truly am…”

He finds it so surprising he laughs at you. Doesn’t even let you process the hurt before he’s barreling on.

“You’re such a silly goose! Of course you feel like that!” And he’s become so used to the comfort of your understanding and lack of judgment that he doesn’t even think to cushion the blow. “You’re all just so insignificant. Just mud really. It’s so hard to find any of you that matter.”

And he’s not looking at your face, because he’s too busy looking at his hands on your arms and wondering how the soft give of your flesh would feel without his gloves. He’s not thinking of your face, or the bitter grimace of betrayal in it, and that is what saves you both, that there is no premeditation to what he says to you next. It comes out raw and true.

“But you matter. You matter to me. That makes you more important than anyone else.”

***

“Please tell me that you’re fucking him,” your roommate says wheeling her chair into the elevator, finally, at long last repaired and miraculously functional for the last couple of weeks. Management seemed to have gotten competent at something. “Sex makes it normal. Sex is nuts and still pretty dumb but understandable at least!”

You walk in behind her and spend the rest of the way to your apartment trying to explain how it isn’t like that with you and Homelander. You’re friends. You have lunch together every day because it’s nice. You talk about your life and his idiot politics because it’s fun to rile him up. You’ve shown him your drawings cause he asked (cause he’s the first guy in a long time who has shown any interest in them, watched you watercolor intently while he rambles on about himself and whatever petty drama is going on in the Seven, winced when you use too much pigment and clicked his tongue in surprise when you recover by using tissue paper, like it’s a soccer match or something).

Not like that at all… but somehow so much better.

You throw your stuff on your ratty old couch and turn on American Hero both because your roommate likes it and because if you don’t, Homelander will be sulking about it the whole week. God knows how long you spent coaching his atrocious Spanish accent and you intend to spend even more time making fun of his bad attempt to welcome Supersonic into the Seven. (Try not to think about his promise to you. Try not to make it personal and sappy and meaningful that his stupid Mexican ass in his stupid Puerto Rican costume got chosen.)

“God, wish they’d let Queen Maeve host American Hero at some point. She’d be killer at it… You know,” your roommate says from the kitchen while she’s making popcorn. “Sex would be better than you being friendzoned by fucking Homelander.”

“That’s not what—”

“Oh come on! Even you’ve got to be wondering when he’s officially gonna ask you out!”

You say nothing because you’ve got nothing to say. Because you’ve wondered about it and you hate that you have. And you also know how unfair it is. Because his ex-girlfriend (the fucking nazi) just killed herself a few weeks ago. And he was here having a panic attack about it. Because you’re not sure you want it yourself. He still scares you sometimes and you don’t know if that’s the kind of thing you could live with. He’s hurt you before… it gets easy to forget but somehow you haven’t quite managed to. Sometimes he will tell you something that makes you google whether you’re a mandatory reporter in the state of New York. Sometimes he will tell you something that makes your heart ache for him, your alarm bell blair, makes you want to ask him are you happy? Do you want to live like this? You don’t have to… But that’s not the sort of thing a girl who just met him can ask. Especially a girl who is still unsure of what you are to each other or whether she can be anything to him at all.

After all, watching Starlight on TV, blonde and perfect, you wonder how she can stand the terror of being looked at all the time. And that’s what him asking you out would mean. Being looked at all the goddamn time. And no matter how much weight you lose or how many times you go to work or university in roller skates instead of taking the bus, how many YWCA yoga classes you take… you know you’re not the kind of girl people like to look at all the time. Beautiful, angry men who fall out of the sky don’t date frizzy-haired, over-educated, pudgy nobodies. And if they do, people tend not to like it.

Still, he said you mattered. He said it with no hesitation. He meant it.

“I think… we’re taking it slow,” you admit to your roommate and to yourself as you take the bowl of popcorn from her. She looks surprised for a second and then smiles at you and you find yourself smiling back as you settle down to watch the end.

“I get it but,” she says in mock exasperation. “It’s glacial and I want my Queen Maeve VIP passes now.”

You both burst out laughing so hard that you almost miss it. His shit-eating grin that you can never admit you love so much. His dumb red gloved hand that you’ve held in your own before, sneaking around Starlight’s shoulder. She’s my girl now. Come again, you want to ask. Because you don’t quite understand. Because you must have heard wrong. Can’t keep it a secret anymore.

In love.

Your roommate stares at you and it’s not the almost immediate fury and shout of fucking Homelight my ass! that gets you. It’s not the immediate speculation from the voice over, or Homelander kissing Starlight on the lips while your roommate screams motherfucker! at the screen. All of that you could have withstood, maybe not with grace or civility but at least without falling apart. But it’s that brief yet still too long moment of utter pity on your roommate’s face when she looks at you, that makes you stand up without a word and lock yourself in your room, while she knocks on your door and says things you don’t understand about you being a thousand times better than him. Being well rid of him. Fuck him. You’ll be fine

I used to think love could give me significance, back when I dated, you had told him once and he had made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon and told you unequivocally, what bullshit that was. Love does nothing. Love fixes nothing. You either matter or you don’t. You’re important or you’re a nobody.

And yet, it seemed just a few short days ago he’d said you mattered. Homelander had looked directly at you, no trace of guile in his stupid face, just fond exasperation. As if you had been silly to ask, silly to doubt it for a second. You matter to me.

Not enough. Apparently not enough.

***

He should’ve known it from the very first shitty excuse. He’d been focusing on the important things, hadn’t had time for whatever fucking bullshit had made you start acting so weird. He just didn’t have any time for this. He’d needed you there for him through this difficult time and suddenly you were…

Gone. Unavailable. Busy.

First it had been ridiculous errands that couldn’t have been important in any way. He’d gotten Ashley to install fucking washing machines in your building and left a Vought credit card with you in spite of your fucking tiresome protests because he was sick of you being at the goddamn library consulting books you could just fucking buy, wasting your time talking to god knows who, stupid excuses like you were drawing at the library with friends. Who fucking goes to the library to draw? (And who the fuck would go hang out with friends when they had Homelander as an option?)

Then, it was missing lunch at work. Lots of customers. Something about summer and people having more time to browse while shopping and needing to make more sales because you were saving up for the semester.

He’d put his foot down with that. He’d fucking had enough. Because you’d said it without looking at him, your pulse racing, your palms sweating and he had known, known instantly that you were lying. Like everyone lied to him. Struggled to hide the hurt it caused him and cornered you in the back of the store instead, slammed his hand right besides your face making the concrete crack and told you (because he could, because he should, because what he had said to Starlight had been true, if all he could have from you was fear then fear it would be) that you could figure it out with that fucking asshole manager of yours or he would figure it out for you.

And his stomach burned when he’d seen you fight to hold back tears while you nodded stupidly at him. Because you hadn’t held back tears in front of him in ages. Because he’d suddenly wanted to grab you and shake you until you’d cry and let him hold you through it the way it was supposed to work.

You never missed lunch again.

And suddenly it’s not enough. Because you’re not there. You look out into the sky when you should be looking at him. You sound distracted and irritable when you should be fucking glad. You were always so fucking glad to see him. And he wants to toss you aside, fine by him if you want to be like this. You can rot for all he cares.

Except your silences taste like tears. Like the moist, fragile quality of your brown eyes looking at him when you think he doesn’t notice. It’s nothing like the acrid taste of Madelyn’s nervous deception, or the adrenaline spiked rush of Stormfront’s passionate delusions. It’s sharp and bitter and full of sleepless nights.

He knows because he’s gone to your room when you are not there. To catch the smell of the sour-sweet cortisol of your insomnia. Had considered breaking your things in a rage, uprooting your plants, throwing your books into the harbor. (Can’t bring himself to lay hands on you again and this would be the next best thing) But all he manages is to lose himself in the telltale aroma of salt on your pillows. Where you’d laid together. Where you’d said he was your hero. He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with you. Suspects it’s these friends you keep having to see, their offensive scent all over your unmade bed. Confusing and alien, too many fucking people in your life that have no business taking up what should be HIS time. Sometimes your goddamn roommate, sometimes some unknown man, or a girl, caked cheap makeup and peroxide and hair spray. Not your smell, oatmeal soap and clean sweat…

He burrows into the pillows and thinks of tearing your sheets to pieces. Would serve you right. He should incinerate the whole bed and everything in it and—

Oh. Oh.

He pushes himself off the bed like it burns him, because he hadn’t expected this, has no framework to place it in. It doesn’t belong here, with you. Because underneath all the extraneous scents, and the other more familiar ones, the dust, the damp earth of your plants and the parchmenty sharpness of your books, there’s the thick, tangy smell of your sex. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. I mean you’re a red-blooded Ame— woman. It’s only natural you should— He shifts uncomfortably on your bed, over-conscious of the knowledge that you’d rubbed one out in the same bed where you sometimes lay down to watch a movie (one of his movies) with him.

He doesn’t move towards it, not really. Just lays back down on your bed and breathes deeply. He tries to think of nothing, indulging in not even the slightest movement. Almost smiles before the intrusion of the sudden, furious thought that your fun might have been not entirely solitary makes him clench his fists so hard the leather of his gloves creaks ominously. You fucking invite so many fucking assholes to this bed it might be hiding in the smell of one of them. (It would explain it, would clear up everything, a reason for your distance that would be simple to fix) He should put a stop to it. No more friends. No more library. No more conversational French meetups. No more Central Park or roller skating to occupy your time. Just your job. Just the important part. Just him.

And he is suddenly, surprisingly, furiously hard, still breathing deeply of you. Cheap shampoo, corner-store deodorant, cotton panties and thick, potent female arousal… but no bitter scent of male cum anywhere in the cacophony of your bed’s smells.

Not yet anyway.

You must have been thinking about him when you did this. Of course. Of course. Your crush was painfully transparent, even if he hadn’t had the telltale spike of your heartbeat every time you saw him. So stupid of you. So silly and earnest, to want the impossible fantasy of your hero. He was almost sorry for you, because it must have been so difficult to see him day in and day out, not knowing what to say or do, wanting him…

And he finds himself facedown on your unmade bed, hands grabbing handfuls of your sheets, because it’s either that or touch himself, and he will be damned if he capitulates in this, like he’s done with everything else around you. He’s so hard it hurts. Erection sandwiched painfully between his body and the soft give of your mattress. A sudden, crystal clear image pops up in his head: your soft, thick thighs and one of your sweet little hands between them. And he’s grinding against the bed, almost without meaning too, almost without permission from his brain, because his face is shoved against what had been the wet spot of your bed and he holds his jaw shut so tightly it’s nearly painful, lest he be tempted to sneak a taste.

The smell is enough, more than enough, as he lets his hips go, imagining you whispering Homelander, Homelander against your bed. You’d sob like he’d heard you sob before, maybe cry a little, but happily this time. Ecstatic transported like that day at the lake. You, soaked in his arms, soaked in more ways than one, smiling at him.

He’s cumming, long and drawn out, with each snap of his hips against your mattress, pounding against it, eyes scrunched shut as if in pain, barely a gasp behind clenched teeth, erection pressed so hard against the bed it almost hurts. He’ll think about it later. It’s enough for the moment, enough to dissipate it all.

He very nearly forgives you.

He’s still laying on your bed when you come back home, still breathing heavily, head blissfully blank, the squelching mess of his own cum inside his suit making him feel so dirty and ashamed he’s already beginning to sport a brand new stiffy. He should’ve heard you come in all the way from the elevator landing. He had, if he was honest with himself. But had also found himself stuck in defiant paralysis, half of him ready to bolt, half of him willing to be caught sprawled on your bed, hand shoved down his pants, just to make you responsible for whatever this was. There was something terribly appealing about you, inattentive, absentee traitor that you were, having to get home and watch him jerk off where you had. Not being able to look away. Not being able to lie about it. Not being able to leave him.

But he does neither.

And when he hears you open your bedroom’s door and call to someone behind you “I’ll be right there! Let me just leave my things!” he is immediately overcome by a raging irritation that does nothing to alleviate the embarrassment of his still lingering arousal. Some fucking library you had to go to! The fucking sort of library that answers “Sure!” in a sweet baritone…

Two things register first. You’re wearing the Homelander branded varsity jacket he got you and your hair is green. Not even fucking blue or red, fucking deep emerald green, clashing gloriously with the colors on your jacket, freshly dyed apparently, lovingly curled for once instead of your usual frizzy mess. He hates it on sight. Hates it because you did not consult him on it. Because you hadn’t thought about him at all when deciding to do something so stupid looking. You had probably been thinking about whoever was on the other side of your ratty, disgusting apartment. Oh he’s going to let him and you know. Oh you’ve gotten yourself in so much trouble…

Except you also look so miserable and exhausted he could swear you’re about to drop.

“… hey,” you say uncertainly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He doesn’t want to think of this, of the fluttering of your tired pulse, and the dryness of your tightly-held lips. He refuses to feel sorry for you. You should be the one begging his forgiveness.

“Weeeell,” he barrels on with a strained, too-wide smile. “You did fucking tell me to drop whenever. Maybe you shoulda thought to put a schedule to that, huh? Maybe when you’re not entertaining. Who’s your fucking friend?”

He hates that you step back. He hates that you don’t even look scared, not really. He smells the tears before they drop from your eyes, before you hang your head in unbearable pain, holding your own sweet arms to your stomach like that can keep your insides from spilling out.

“I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. Please leave.”

And that does hit him like a gut punch, like the physical blow he has never experienced. He reaches for the comforting rage and finds nothing but gaping emptiness. Because nothing you say or do ever sounds right to him. You never give him the right cue cards, the well known scripts… you never let him do what he knows. Homelander may have expected rejection but not this open, wounded mourning. Not you grabbing hold of a wall to lower yourself on the floor while you can’t stop looking at him like he’s the one that has dismissed you. Like you can’t stand to tear your eyes off him now that he’s here.

Fuck you. And your easy tears. And that look of betrayal that should have belonged to him.

“You? YOU?! You can’t do THIS anymore?! And what is THIS exactly, missy? Huh? What kind of fucking performing monkey do you think I am to you? Think that you can have me here whenever you want and out the door when it’s not to your fucking convenience? Oh no, no you don’t. You don’t get to tell me when to fucking go–”

And it takes the bottom out from under him when you choke back “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Because your pulse is racing and you are afraid. He can see it in the tension of your shoulders and every time you flinch when he shouts. But when you bury your face in your hands, it’s more of those awful, gulping tears and more I’m sorries that he somehow believes you mean.

“I can’t be your friend anymore. I just can’t.”

He had not known this would hurt as it did. He thought he’d known the worst of it when Ryan had walked away from him. When Stormfront had left him when he most needed her. When Madelyn had lied to him. He didn’t know how the truth could hurt so much worse. The truth that all the others had neglected to speak to him, at least you have the guts to say it to his face. He’d always thought he’d have enough pride to face it head on, hadn’t known he would have to bite back bile and the thin, reedy pleading boy he somehow still harbored inside him. Please. I’ll be better. I’ll be good. Please don’t do this.

“I can’t stand it…” You get formal when you’re in pain, like you forget the casual ease of your adopted language and country. Like you want as much distance between the two of you. “I can’t stand looking at you. I’ve tried… I’ve tried so hard…”

And he’s the one who can’t look at you, nauseous and adrift, hands almost curling into fists, almost reaching for your shoulders so he can shake some sense into you, so he can tear you in two before he lets you keep hurting him like this. And he does, he does grab a handful of each fleshy shoulder, fights his own grimace of pain and the part of himself that has every right to demand he bang your head against your bedroom wall until you’ll stop talking, stop leaving, just stop.

You don’t know. He wants so badly to tell you, to show you how close to destruction you are, how little you matter, how easy you would be to snuff out. But whatever it is that is going through your silly little head, it makes you reach back to him, touch his face once and then recoil like he could burn you (he can and he will), like he disgusts you, like he—

“I can’t stand having to look at you and not have you. Please leave. I can’t be your friend when I feel like this about you.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for obviously covering my nose and mouth around smokers at work? (Tw for a very brief mention of sexual assault and mentions of bigotry)

To preface I'm fully aware that WHAT I'm trying to do is justified, I just don't know if the HOW is a problem.

Some context about my working conditions: I work in an outdoors location. I sit at a table at the front gate and check bags and permit entry. Where I sit is a fairly small open area at the base of a large set of stairs before the place people are actually coming to see. Smoking, drinking, etc is allowed everywhere on premise including the small area I sit at for eight hours a night. 90% of the patients drink (not the point of the post but to display how lax the type of event I work at is), and 50% of the adults MINIMUM smoke. The ticket booth is right beside my booth and people will stand there for up to 5 minutes on a not too busy night smoking as they wait. The customer base is nearly entirely white and almost 100% Republican. They wear MAGA hats, fly confederate flags, wear blue lives matter shirts, and try to yell at me about chemtrails if I don't shoo them away from me. I've been sexually assaulted, harassed for being Russian(?????????), called anti-trans slurs, have had weapons pulled on me, etc. And as I've said....... pretty much all the patrons are drunk. So I CAN NOT wear a mask for my own immediate safety. This is also not an every day issue as I work for an event specifically that only takes place once or twice a month

Now as to why smoking is an issue: I'm allergic to cigarette smoke. I don't remember exactly what part causes the reaction but I very quickly have a reaction to it. I assume it's something most every non smoker goes through experiencing second hand smoke: nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fainting, etc. It just happens to me VERY quickly. Now, if they don't have bags for me to check and just breeze on by after getting their tickets, I hold my breath for a quick minute until the air at least doesn't actively feel gross to breathe in. Minute is an exaggeration, because of a disability I have I can't hold my breath for more than 20 seconds. When people with bags for me to check come to my table and are smoking, I try to severely limit my breathing until it's done because I'm directly dealing with the customers and have to breathe. Where my methods might be asshole-ish come into play with the people who choose to stand around and smoke instead of leaving the area

I use my shirt/jacket to cover my mouth and nose. When it's cold I try to at least make it look like a keeping myself warm thing. It's not perfect, it's not like I'm suddenly immune to second hand smoke, but if they're only around for five minutes or so it does WONDERS keeping me from getting sick. I used to try harder not to be obvious about it, but going home throwing up and sneezing out tar for days after I work so many times has made me a bit more "idgaf if they're offended by it" sometimes. The thing is, I don't WANT to be rude about it though. My goal here isn't to cause a problem, which is the biggest concern with the customer base, but to just keep myself safe. When I try to just suck it up and take no measures to reduce the amount of smoke I'm directly inhaling, I've gotten so violently ill I've been unable to actually do my job. Admittedly I've never made a serious attempt to just ask people to not smoke around me, but in my defense it's because the response in the past has been for people to flick their cigarette ash at me and get up in my face. I think I might be too replaceable for there to be any kind of enforceable rule about not smoking in my direct vicinity

So I repeat: AITA for covering my face at work when people smoke right beside me? (And if so, any other solutions you could think of would be nice!)

What are these acronyms?

[drabblesandimagines]

Kitty (part 9)

Parts 1-8 here. Rei x (afab) reader, usual fluff but also... Warnings: Implied gun violence, kidnapping, blood, panic attacks

This chapter is suuuper long, so buckle up! --

Kazuki and Rei get assigned some reconnaissance work from Kyu that takes place over the weekend and into the early week. You reassure the blonde you’re perfectly happy to watch over Miri whilst they’re out, keeping her entertained and fed as they spend the next three days on the job. They’re up early and back late, but Rei sends you sweet text messages to check in whenever he can.

It’s now early Tuesday afternoon – Kazuki dropped off the information to Kyu this morning, and you’re working on the breakfast and lunch dishes with Kazuki. Rei is tackling the folding of the laundry, though Kazuki is keeping a close eye.

As you dip a pan in the hot, soapy water, a sharp pain shoots through your head and you let go, instinctively rubbing the side of your head when you flinch – it’s the telltale beginning of a headache.

“You okay there, Kitty?” Kazuki questions, a cloth in hand as he dries. You nod your head, continuing the therapeutic scrubbing of the pans but he’s leaning forward now, trying to get a good look at you. “You’re looking a little flush.”

The back of his hand is suddenly pressed on your forehead. “Huh, you’re feeling a little bit warm too.”

“A fever?” Rei questions over his shoulder.

You shake your head, “No, I f-feel okay,” but another pain twinges through your head, ruining your performance. The two men stare at you. “OK, maybe m-my head hurts a l-little, b-but it’s f-fine.”

Kazuki side-steps between you and the sink now and hands you a cloth to dry off your hands. “Go sit down. I’ll get the thermometer.”

You nod, walking around the counter to go sit on the couch, unsure why but it’s obvious that Kazuki isn’t going to let you bluff your way out of it. You’d always worked through illnesses in the past, he was hardly going to give you a day off.

Moments later, Kazuki is kneeling down in front of you, asking you to stick the thermometer under your tongue. There’s a beep and he muses over the results, Rei hovering over his shoulder. “Temperature’s running a little high, but only a little. I still think it’s the beginning of a fever. It must be something from daycare, Ms Anna warned there was something going around.”

“Should we go to hospital?”

Kazuki smiles at his room-mate’s concern. “It’s just a bug, no need for that.” The blonde gets to his feet, clearing a path in front of you. “Go on, to bed with you. I’ll send Rei up with some medication in a minute, okay?”

“B-bed?”

“Yep – you need to rest. Go on.”

“B-but I can finish the d-dishes first…” You frowned at the counter.

“You’re sick.” Kazuki stressed. “Pyjamas on, in bed, rest.”

“Go on, Kitty. I can do them.” Rei nods, hoping that might encourage you to listen.

“Okay. Just f-for a b-bit.” You hold the railing as you go up the stairs, knowing that every step is being scrutinized.

By the time you’ve changed into your pyjamas – an activity that seems to make you feel more warm than anything else – and got in the bed, Rei arrives with a tray in hand, balancing a glass, pitcher of water and a box of medication, looking concerned. “Kazuki says to take two of these – that’ll it help with the temperature and the headache.” He places it down on the bedside table before removing the tablets from the box, popping out two and holding them out to you.

You’d be skeptical of taking them if it wasn’t Rei offering them to you. You pop them in your mouth and wash them down with water, leaning back into the pillows.

“I r-really don’t f-feel that bad…”

When Rei was young and sick, Boss made him run. Sweat it out, boy. All he’d wanted to do was sleep, but he wasn’t permitted a day off training for such a trivial thing as a fever. He has a job to do, it’s not going to wait, and Boss said working through it would only strengthen his immune system. He’d been sick once soon after Kazuki had moved in – he’d blamed the blonde for bringing his germs in – and Kazuki had manhandled him into his actual bed, got him to drink some disgusting medicine, put a wet cloth on his forehead – he had to admit that bit had been nice - and promised him unlimited ramen cups if he’d remain in the bed the rest of the day and night. Hell, the man had even stayed besides him, switching over the cloths periodically, getting him to drink more medicine, watching him like a hawk.

The next day he had felt much better, he had to admit.

“I know,” Rei kneels down besides the bed, “but better to be cautious. Just rest a bit - for me, okay?”

You’ve been getting better at saying no, but how can you say no to that face?

“Okay,” you mumble, shuffling down in the bed a little. “Are y-you r-really going to w-wash the dishes?”

“Kazuki started doing them as soon as I headed up here. Said we still need to work on a ‘proper scrubbing technique’, apparently.” Rei huffs. “Why are you so worried about the dishes?”

“I’m n-not,” you avoid eye contact, staring at the bed covers.

“Kitty…”

“I w-want to e-earn m-m-my place.”

“Earn?” He frowns.

“Y-yeah. I d-don’t h-have a-any m-m-money or a j-job and I k-k-know Zuki is a-always k-keeping a c-close eye on the b-b-budget and I’m an ad-ad-added ex-expense”, you’re growing flustered, your breath catches in your throat and your stutter is out of control. You dig your nails into your palms, “so the l-least I c-can d-do is c-clean a-and…”

Rei’s hand is now on your cheek, tilting your head to face him. “Breathe,” he reminds, gently. Looking in his eyes grounds you for a moment and you nod, inhaling deeply and purposefully.

“You don’t need to earn anything here. What’s mine is yours, okay? I don’t even need to ask Kazuki to know he’d say the same. Plus, he’s the original couch crasher, so that position’s already taken.” He jokes.

“I w-want to b-be useful, h-have a p-p-purpose…”

“You are and you do, and we can figure out some things when you’re feeling better. But, for right now, I just need you to rest. Please?”

You nod, a little shakily, before laying down fully. It is nice to be lying down.

“Thank you.” He gets up to his feet and pulls the blinds down, blocking out the early afternoon sun.

“C-can you s-stay f-for a bit?”

“Of course.” He returns to the space besides the bed, leaning up against the bedside table. “Close your eyes, I’ll be here.” He lays his hand on top of yours, gently before he withdraws his phone with his other hand, muting the volume and loading up a game. You close your eyes – your head hurts less so with the darkened room. You could just lay like this for a while, right? Then the headache will pass and you can get up and get on with the housework, just lay there for a little longer, listening to Rei tap away at the phone screen…

--

“Come on,” Kazuki whispers. “We haven’t picked Miri up together in a while. Kitty’ll be fine – she’ll probably sleep better without you hovering over her.”

Rei nods, getting up from his vigil. He hadn’t wanted to leave you really in case you needed anything, but Kazuki is probably right. It isn’t a long trip to the daycare, at least, and you do seem pretty asleep now. He leans over you to brush some hair out of your eyes, noting you still feel a little clammy. He grabs hold of the lion he got you from the zoo – it’s lived in your bed ever since – and tucks it into your arms.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He murmurs, before leaving the room quietly and pulling the door to behind him.

--

You wake up a few hours later, a dull pain in your head but nothing as bad as earlier. You sit up and reach over to the bedside table, taking a swig of water from the glass, before getting to your feet. The alarm clock suggests you’ve been asleep for over three hours and Miri should be home from daycare and you get to your feet, hoping Kazuki and Rei will deem that enough of a rest to let you help out with the evening activities. Your bedroom door is slightly ajar and you hear Miri squeal – she’s usually quite excited when she first gets home but this level seems new. You wince, the noise sending a sharp pain through your head as you approach the door.

You then hear a distinctly female voice, followed by Kazuki. That’s different. Unexpected. There’s a short sentence that you recognize as Rei, then Miri giggling. You push the door shut, softly, unsure what to do. You think hard, trying to remember any female friend that they’ve mentioned before, but nothing springs to mind. You’re also not sure what rules there are, if any, around guests. They’d never had guests before. He always had guests – don’t talk unless spoken to (that one soon became unnecessary), show them respect, serve them as you would him. You turn and climb back into the bed and wait.

Downstairs, the little girl clocks your absence.

“Papas, where’s Kitty?” Miri frowns.

“You have a cat?” Misaki asks, politely.

“No.” Kazuki grunts. “She’s… a guest. Kitty wasn’t feeling very well, Miri, she’s resting in bed.”

“Oh, poor Kitty.” Miri frowns. But then her attention span drifts as she sees her pile of drawings, dragging her mother over to look.

“I should go check on her.” Rei suggests, getting up from the sofa but Kazuki grabs hold of his arm as he tries to walk past and pulls him back, hissing in his ear, “You are not leaving me alone with this woman, who knows what I’ll do?! I’ll go, you stay.” Rei pouts a little. He doesn’t want to be left alone either.

Kazuki knocks on the door gently and he finds you sitting up in the bed, looking nervous.

“H-hi.”

“How are you feeling?” He steps in and closes the door. You can tell his mind is preoccupied though.

“A l-little b-b-better, thanks.” You lie. “I w-would’ve come down b-but I heard so-somebody e-else and…” You don’t finish, feeling a little cowardly.

“Mm. Yeah, we have a ‘guest’. She’s called Misaki and she’s… Well, she’s Miri’s mother.”

You frown. “I t-t-thought…”

“Me too.” Kazuki sighs, leaning against the closed door. “Misaki seems to have had a change of heart. She wants to take Miri back.”

“Oh.”

“Can she do that? It’s been nearly a year. She just… She let her travel across the whole city on her own with nothing but a letter and an envelope of photos. She can’t just demand to take her back, can she?”

“I… I’m n-not sure.” You wish you could comfort Kazuki better. “You’ll n-need to s-sit and t-talk p-properly.”

“I know, I just don’t want to.” He sighs. “Do you feel up for coming downstairs? Miri was asking for you.”

You don’t really want to, but you do for Miri and Kazuki’s sake. You nod, getting out of the bed, grab the black zip up hoody and pull it over your pyjamas, following the blonde out the bedroom door.

When you get downstairs Misaki is nowhere to be seen, but Miri is delighted to see you, cuddling up against your legs. “Kitty, Mama’s here! Well, she was here, but she’s coming back. She’s going to make us dinner!”

“T-that’s exciting.” You smile, warmly.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rei stands besides you, scrutinizing your face.

You nod, give him a smile and lower your voice. “Is Z-Zuki okay?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugs. “We need to keep calm in front of Miri though. Are you sure you’re feeling better? Come on, sit down.”

A little while later, the buzzer goes.

“Do I have to let her back in?” Kazuki grumbles, but Miri has already sprinted to the front door and is jumping up and down, waiting for Kazuki to let her mama back in. He frowns as he sees her laden with shopping bags in hand, informing that she’s going to make Miri’s favourite dinner.

“Oh…” She smiles at you, unsure, looking you up and down. You wish you’d got changed out of your pyjamas. “Hello, I’m Misaki.”

“Mama, this is Kitty!” Miri beams, giddy with excitement to have all her favourite adults in one place.

“Oh, yes, the, er, guest?”

“Yes. H-h-hi.” There’s the look – the one you always get when you stutter. “N-nice to m-meet y-you.”

“What’s all this?” Kazuki asks, gesturing to the plastic bags in Misaki’s hands - thankfully ending this awkward interaction.

“Oh, well, I’m going to make Hamburg steak. I’m afraid I’ll have to use your kitchen…”

--

Dinner is awkward. There isn’t enough steak for everyone – Misaki only buying four – but that’s okay, you reassure, your appetite is a little off and you’re happy with rice and vegetables. Then there’s not enough chairs at the table, so you offer to sit elsewhere. Kazuki mutters that Misaki should offer to sit elsewhere, like in her own home for one, she’s the one imposing…

You can hear the stilted conversation - Kazuki getting upset as both Miri and Rei compliment the store-bought steak, but Miri is happy to have her papas and mama all together. You’re knelt down besides the coffee table with your dinner, trying your best to not feel excluded. You’d ate worse places and you’d offered, after all…

Rei comes and sits with you on the sofa after dinner, asking if you’re okay, squeezing your hand. You nod – it’s not like Misaki is moving in, you reason in your head, you’ll get your place back. Kazuki is mumbling angrily under his breath as he wipes the dining table, Miri and Misaki working together on the dishes. Miri is telling her mother about how they’re going to sing Silent Night at the daycare’s Christmas party. It’s clear how much Miri loves her mama, but you’ve seen how much the little girl adores Kazuki and Rei too. Not long after the dishes are complete, Miri jumps up besides you on the sofa with a loud yawn when Misaki visits the bathroom and in the time it takes her to return, Miri is snoring happily away. Seeing this, Kazuki takes his chance.

“Talk.” The blonde orders, sitting down at the table and pointing at a chair for Misaki to take.

“Can we do it in, er, private?” She asks, sitting down. You look down at Miri – maybe she hasn’t realized she’s asleep? But when you look up to clarify, you realize she’s looking at you.

“Kitty stays, she’s part of this family too.” Rei replies in a tense tone. You avert your eyes again, looking back at Miri sleeping peacefully on the couch. You’re not sure how this conversation is going to go – you know Kazuki is finding it difficult already and maybe tempers will fray. Miri is a solid sleeper… but, still, you’d hate for her to wake up to find her mama and papas having heated words.

“It’s o-o-okay. I’m f-f-feeling a l-l-little t-tired, so w-why don’t I t-t-take Miri up t-to b-bed?” You suggest. What would you add to the discussion anyway? You worry that you being there will give Misaki ammo, somehow. What are you exposing my daughter to?

“Are you sure?” Kazuki asks and you nod, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Okay, thank you.”

You gently pick the little girl up and she unconsciously snuggles into your arms. Three pairs of eyes of eyes linger on you as you walk up the spiral stairs, padding into Miri’s room and tucking her into her own bed. When you exit, you can hear Kazuki finding it difficult to contain his anger, but you head straight into your room, closing the door to behind you and climbing into bed, cuddling your lion to your chest.

--

“Run!” A voice demands. “Run…!” It’s your father, of course that’s your father’s voice – how could you have forgotten? He repeats it again, but this time, he says your name, or what you think is your name. The thing is, it’s muffled, almost as you’re underwater – you can’t make it out but you know that’s what he’s saying. Why can’t your brain comprehend it? “Run!” You know, somehow, he doesn’t mean out the front door, so you head to the one at the rear of the property – the one that overlooks the woodland. There’s screeching tyres from the front but you don’t look back. The ground is unsteady and you stumble over roots, branches scratching at your legs. It’s muddy – it’s not ideal for running and your shoes are getting stuck in the mud, you’re clumsy, you’re causing a racket. Why are you running? Where are you running to?

You trip, crashing into the ground, mud splatters up on your face. You know there’s no time to waste – your father’s tone had been desperate - so you grasp above you head blindly, trying to find purchase on a branch or a trunk or a rock. You manage to get back up to your feet, but there’s a sharp twinge in your ankle – you must’ve twisted it in the fall. You stagger forward but it’s useless, you’ve lost your momentum, you’ve lost the little bearings you’ve had, but still you limp forward. There’s a racket growing behind you and you try to increase your pace. Your ankle burns with every step, the mud seems to be grow stickier, pulling back at your feet every time you lift them. Pathetic. An arm grabs you around the waist, and you elbow back, demanding they get off you but you know it’s over then. They’re so much stronger – your elbows don’t even make them flinch.

Your wrists are pulled tightly behind your back, feeling like they’re trying to pull your shoulders out of their sockets. Something’s looped around them – a zip tie? – and tightened until it feels like it’s cutting deep into your skin. You’re span round and you get a glimpse of a face – not one you recognize - before you’re thrown over your assailant’s shoulder. They grumble at the state of you, the mud from your fall now sullying their suit.

You struggle but it’s pointless. Fingers pinch into your thighs as they begin to walk back to the house with you, or at least you think they are. It’s hard to tell, the way you’re being held means you can see nothing but the back of your captor. He’s looped an arm through your bound arms to keep you snug against him, and every jostle the restraints cut into your skin more. You know you’re not screaming – you know there’s no-one around here for miles.

You’re back inside the house now, but the room smells different – tangy, bloody…

You’re dropped down on the floor, opposite your father. His nose is bloody, his eye is blackening rapidly. You stare at him but you don’t say a word. Someone new enters the room and you look down at the ground.

“Aktomi, please.” Your father pleads, “If you just give me a little more time…”

“I’ve given you plenty of time.” He replies. “You haven’t even begun to scrape the surface. I need to collect today.” A pair of well-polished shoes appear in your view and the newcomer crouches down in front of you. A hand grasps your chin and tilts it up so you have to make eye contact and you try and swallow back down your fear. “And when I came to collect, you sent the most valuable thing you have running out the door.”

“Please, sir, I beg of you. My mistakes are nothing to do with her. She has her whole life ahead of her…” Your father is on the verge of tears.

He’s still holding you by the chin, fingers digging into your jaw as he twists your face side to side. You don’t what to think what he’s looking for.

“How old is she?”

“19, sir. She’s a dutiful daughter. Ever since her mother died, she’s been so good to me. I don’t deserve her…”

“No, you don’t,” he lets go at last, seeming happy with his findings and gets to his feet. “Put her in the car.”

“What?” You gasp, but you’re hoisted roughly off the ground, an arm looped through your bound wrists again, a hand grips hold of the back of your neck and forces your head down as you’re dragged out. You can’t get purchase on the ground to make a step, tripping over your own feet as they half-carry you. “Father!” You cry out, but it’s useless – you’re already out the door and up the footpath to the dirt road. Every step further they take you, you can hear your father plead and plead and plead… until there’s a solitary gunshot and you know.

There’s the sound of a door being opened and your neck is released, only for you then to be swept off your feet and dropped into the trunk of a car. You try and sit up but a hand pushes your shoulders firmly back down, causing your head to bang against the side console, making your vision swim. Then he appears, smiling at you.

“Enjoy the ride, sweetheart. I’ll decide how you can pay your father’s debts once we’re home.”

The world goes black.

Your eyes shoot open as you sit up, your breath already caught in your throat, covered in a cold sweat. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust – you’re in bed, you’re in Rei’s bedroom, you’re not in a car, you’re not back there… You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine - you try to reassure yourself but you have the sickening feeling once more of your breaths not being enough.

“Kitty?” The voice to your side startles you and you’re hyperventilating now, tears trickling down your cheeks and you’re gripping the bedsheet with both hands – willing yourself to just breathe but you can’t. Your head is trying to remember what Kazuki told you, breathing in and out for so many seconds, but you lose count and maybe you’re not breathing deep enough? Did it feel deeper last time? It’s not getting in.

Misaki had left a little while ago. Kazuki had stormed off to bed, but Rei couldn’t sleep. He wanted to see you, make sure you were okay, talk about what had occurred. The bedroom door had been slightly ajar when he’d got upstairs, so he’d poked his head in to find you tossing and turning in the sheets. He’d just made it to your side when you’d shot bolt-right up in the bed, panting.

He’s kneeling besides the bed now, pulling your hand from the bedsheet and gripping it tightly. He’s saying something but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your ears – why’s it so loud?  Rei is panicking too - should he get Kazuki? No, he doesn’t want to leave you on your own, not even for a moment. If he shouts for him, that’ll wake Miri too, surely. He takes a breath himself and tries to repeat what Kazuki told him but it’s soon clear you’re not focusing on him at all, staring blankly ahead of you as your eyes are damp with tears. He thinks back to his training – his instructor used to put his hand over his to adjust his positioning on various weapons, so maybe that could work here too. Could he get you to feel how he’s breathing? He gets to his feet and climbs behind you in the bed. His long legs are now either side of you and he reaches forward, grabbing your hands in each of his. He pulls you back and into his chest and he squeezes your hand one, two, three, four times as you feel him inhale behind you, his chest expanding. He’s exaggerating the movements, hoping to get through to you. One, two, three, four, he counts with a squeeze as he holds the breath. Another one, two, three, four as he releases the breath and starts the sequence again. You close your eyes and just try and focus on the rise and fall of his chest, mimicking the motion, and on the squeezes of his hands on yours. You don’t know how long it takes – minutes, hours? – but your breaths become deeper and calmer once more, returning to almost normal as Rei continues holding you tight, squeezing and breathing.

“Feeling better?” His voice murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

You nod. “T-thank y-you.”

“No problem.” He hesitates briefly, before letting go of your hands. You immediately grab hold of his left arm, pulling it around your stomach. He tenses for a second but relaxes soon after.

“D-don’t g-g-go. P-please.”

“I won’t.” He soothes, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to, okay?”

You squeeze his hand, taking a shuddering breath. “N-ni-nightmare.” You confide before Rei can ask. He leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around you without prompt, leaning back into the pillows. “A-about t-the n-n-night my f-father died. F-father, he… H-he was s-saying m-my n-n-name but I c-couldn’t h-hear it.”

“That must be frustrating. I’m sorry.”

You sit for a few moments, enjoying the grounding feeling of being wrapped in his arms as you continue to breathe in sync. As your thoughts begin to rationalize, you remember what had occurred before you’d fallen asleep.

“W-what happened with M-Misaki?”

“She’s got cancer. She doesn’t think she has long left to live.”

“Oh, t-that’s aw-awful.”

“Mm. She wants to live out the rest of her life with Miri, live her life now for Miri.” A pause. “She said she knows about our line of work, and that if we truly care about Miri, then we’d do what’s best for her.”

“T-that’s not f-fair.” Rei doesn’t reply, musing over it in his head. “What d-does Zuki t-think?”

“He didn’t say much – he just went to bed. I don’t know what we should do.”

You wish you knew the right thing to say, but you don’t. You know Kazuki and Rei love and adore Miri, they’ve done nothing but good for her. You don’t know much about Misaki’s life, but Miri obviously adored her so she can’t have been a terrible mother. Then again, how could a mother send their little girl out alone…?

“S-sleep on it.” You suggest. “Everyone’s e-emotions a-are high. S-sleep w-will help.”

You feel him nod on your shoulder. “And you, will you be able to sleep?”

“I… I d-don’t k-know.” You bite your lip. “I… I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t go. I told you, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

You close your eyes.

--

The first conscious thought is there’s a sharp burst vibration on his right leg. It’s signaling a text. The second is he has his arms wrapped around you, spooning you into the wall and he’s in your bed. It’s pleasant – your breathing is steady and you feel so soft and warm… There’s another vibration against his leg. He carefully removes his arm from around you to retrieve his phone – his other one will have to remain trapped under your sleeping form for now.

He turns away as he unlocks the device, not wanting the light from it to cast on your face. It’s a number he doesn’t have saved, which makes his gut sink because it can only mean one thing.

Boss wants to see you – immediately.

It’s a little after 6am – Boss has always been an early riser. It hasn’t been that long since he last saw him on his birthday, but so much has happened in that time. He was meant to be tying up loose ends, but then you came along and… Well, dominated his thoughts.

Rei slides his arm out from under you but you abruptly turn, mumbling in your sleep. He freezes, he doesn’t want to wake you up because of the Boss of all things. He spots the plush lion and presses it under your arm. You sigh, squeezing it and your breathing returns to its steady state.

He know he’s stealthy – it was a large part of his training, after all - but it doesn’t feel right to get changed whilst you’re in the room. He gathers up the necessary pieces of his suit and heads towards the door, pausing briefly to glance back at you and smile.

He dresses in the bathroom, checking his appearance in the mirror as he ties up his hair. He puts a change of clothes in a bag – the suit’s been feeling more constrictive recently, and not due to Kazuki’s cooking, so he doesn’t want to wear it longer than necessary. He’s halfway to the front door when he turns back, finds a scrap of paper and leaves a note on the dining table.

Taken the car. Back later – Rei.

--

Comments, likes, reblogs and follows much appreciated <3 EDIT: Part 10 here.

[legacygirlingreen]

December 1896 // Farmer Sebastian Sallow x Reader (part 12)

Full series master list here

Warnings: finally some action (not smut but smooching), angst once again, sick Anne returns

audio for the chapter found here

word count: 9,000

I searched aurora borealis green

Sebastian, 

I recognize that this letter has been a long time coming, and I have certainly found myself drafting it several times unsuccessfully. With Ominis’s reassurance, I would like to let you know that I am ready to repair what relationship we might be able to have in the time I have left. A part of me feels selfish, to reappear in your life, knowing I hardly have days remaining, but I could not allow you to go through the rest of your life knowing that I have not spent every single day since I left, thinking of you. 

If you will allow it, I wish to live out my remaining time peacefully in Feldcroft. I know you have a career, and hardly have time for one dying sister with whom you haven’t spoken in years, but if there was a way, I’d like to try. 

I shall await you in our old home, 

Anne 

Sebastian had never rushed home faster after receiving the correspondence he’d dreamed of for years. He informed his boss he was taking a sabbatical due to a family matter before packing up the flat in Paris and the one in London, then heading home. That had been a few weeks ago and his sister had moved into the house so that he might spend as much time with her as possible. Often Ominis would also spend the night with them when his work permitted. 

Their first night together all they did was weep, apologize and hold one another. He had missed her dearly, and to be reunited once more was profound. As much as Sebastian cared for his career, his love for his twin triumphed over nearly anything else in the world. 

The first thing he did after reuniting with Anne was to send a letter to the girl, informing her that Anne had come home and that she would like to see her during the Yule time. The letter brought tears to her eyes and she snuck out of her dorm room immediately in order to use the enchanted mirror to speak with Sebastian until the sun rose, simply because she could not be happier for him. He had laughed, cried and shown every variety of emotion for her, unashamedly. 

Now all he looked forward to was having every person he cared for in the same place for the yule time. When she finally arrived back in Feldcroft, it had been much later than he anticipated. Usually she rushed home, but she seemingly took an extra day before arriving. Sebastian hardly had time to ponder why as the second she came bounding into the hamlet he was already rushing towards her at top speed, lifting her around the waist with his large hands and spinning her through the air as she laughed. 

“Sebastian put me down!” she shrieked, worried he would ruin her perfectly styled hair, and he refused for a moment longer just to tease her. Since the moment they had shared on her birthday in September, their conversations via mirror had seemed more weighted, every letter filled with more longing, and the time daydreaming of one another more frequent.  She would hardly admit it out loud, but she was totally and completely in love with the farmer next door. Something in her soul whispered that he loved her as well… 

“Can you hardly blame me? You kept me waiting so long… Did you run into a delay leaving France?” he asked her curiously and she looked around to make sure no one was watching.

Leaning up she pressed a small kiss to the side of his cheek before responding, “I shall tell you when I know more, but I actually interviewed for a job after graduation. I think it will be a good fit, should it pan out, but I am waiting until I have confirmation before allowing myself to get too excited”.  

“That’s…” Sebastian trailed off, realizing that soon enough she would have a career and he hoped by some chance it would bring her close to him, but he respected her decision to remain tight lipped. After all, he asked her to make decisions with her own future in mind, not theirs. “That’s wonderful! I look forward to hearing more about it”, he replied, picking up her suitcase to help lug it over to her home. 

“You won’t believe what happened during the ballet recital, Sebastian. So our male lead ended up hurting himself in defense against the dark arts class a week before the performance, and we replaced him. Despite that, his replacement ended up being so much better, as he was able to actually lift me more easily. But, headmaster Black attended, as his nephew attends Beauxbatons and was my replacement dance partner. The man is absolutely foul, but he remembered me for the project with Professor Sharp and Ms. Morris all those years ago.” she explained with a smile and he couldn’t help but be proud that his very uptight former headmaster actually remembered the young woman. 

“That’s very interesting indeed. Is there any more-” he started to ask as the door to her home opened wide and an army of her siblings and her mother rushed outside to greet her. All of her siblings of age were attending Hogwarts, while the youngest was still at home, so they all missed her dearly during the year. 

Sebastian stepped back, allowing them to be reunited when her mother swept him up as well, kissing his cheek and thanking him for bringing her bag. Handing him a potion for Anne to help with the nausea before she then left to keep cooking. 

“When you have a moment, Anne would like to see you. She misses you, and has some things she wishes to tell you” Sebastian told her as she finally came up for air after hugging all her younger siblings. 

“I would love to see Anne, just let me get settled and I shall walk over -” she started and he interrupted.

“Actually, I can help you unpack if you’d like, and I can walk you over as well.” Strange. Sebastian had never been so keen to be with her every second humanly possible but she shrugged, letting him know it was fine if that’s what he wished for. His tone almost sounded desperate, like a child wishing to be included. It was endearing to the point she couldn’t deny him. 

Climbing the stairs together to the loft, they remained quiet. They had made this journey often when they were children, as it was not uncommon for him to spend time with her after Anne was cursed or Solomon passed away. Sometime felt much more heavy in the air as they both rounded the set of stairs together, clothes shuffling being the only sound to be heard. 

Eventually making it to the top floor of the home, Sebastian set down her stuff near the door, standing off to the side so that she could unpack as she pleased. Waving her wand, she returned her clothes to the dresser without much glance. Grabbing her books, journal, mirror and stack of letters from her other bag, she placed them on her desk. Lastly she collected the small bag of toiletries from her suitcase by hand, walking them over to the small vanity and sitting down. 

Just as she had worried, Sebastian had in fact ruined her hair when he’d lifted her. Sighing she started to remove the braid, nearly forgetting he was in the room entirely until he moved closer. Standing just behind her, she could see his belt in the reflection as she finished removing her braids so that her long hair hung loose. Grabbing the brush she started to remove the small knots. Before she could start to redo the updo Sebastian laid a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look up at him. 

“It looks very pretty down if you don’t mind me saying…” he told her, as she grew wide eyed and flushed. 

“But it’s hardly proper to leave my hair down.  People might talk-” she replied nervously.

“Then let them. There aren’t many in the hamlet to begin with, most of whom do not care about such proprietary… I understand if you don’t want to -” he said, realizing that demanding she leave her hair down on his accord was somewhat rude. 

“No, it's fine. You’re right. I can leave it down” she said awkwardly with a smile, setting the brush down again, giving him the privilege of seeing her hair down. 

Pulling out a small bottle of perfume, she put it against the insides of her wrist, lifting it to a spot behind her ears while he watched. 

“Is that new?” he asked her, not recalling a time she ever wore perfume. Not that she ever smelt bad by any means of the word, but seeing her applying oil to her skin peaked his interest. It seemed so adult, granted he knew she was one at this rate, and had been in the eyes of their world since the previous year. 

“It is. My roommate gifted it to me for my birthday. I quite like it” she said, standing from the vanity, moving towards the door when he intercepted her, gently placing his hand against her elbow to stop her from rushing back out. He imagined that she was feeling nervous having him in her living space, alone and unchaperoned, but that had never stopped them before, and he’d be damned if it mattered now. 

Sebastian brushed some hair off her shoulder, leaning his face into where she’d put the fragrance. Letting the tip of his nose gently touch the shell of her ear, he inhaled. She shivered as he did so.  Sebastian was unprepared for the nirvana his senses experienced immediately. It smelled so utterly divine. Very feminine, floral and with a touch of the morning dew. Like a rainstorm in a lilac field. Unable to stop himself, he allowed himself another whiff as he almost became intoxicated off the scent alone.  

He had often found the fragrances the women in Paris wore to be overwhelming.  While they often smelled good, something artificial about the overly floral or sweet perfumes became off putting to him.  It was as if most women he met made it their mission to smell constantly of the inside of a bakery or as if they’d rolled around in a florist shop all afternoon.  It usually left him with a headache if he was honest. But this smell was so light, almost subtle on her skin, as if it was coming directly from her and not the beautiful ornate bottle he’d seen. The flowers smelt natural, not feigned, and the delightful addition of whatever clean undertone it had was an unexpected surprise.  The perfume complimented her nature in a way he hadn’t expected.  It was as if that fragrance was destined to be worn on her skin and in her hair. 

“Are you going to keep standing here sniffing me like a crup in heat, or are we going to see your sister?” she asked with a laugh and immediately his face flamed realizing he had in fact been so drunk off the perfume he’d remained wafting her. 

“Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me” That was a lie. He was very aware of what came over him. 

“It’s alright. I suppose that means you like it.” she said as she reached for her shawl, knowing it was bound to get even colder into the evening. Sebastian stopped her, removing his jacket and placing it on her shoulders.

“Very much.” he said without much explanation before heading down the stairs with her in tow. 

Anne had absolutely withered from the last time she’d seen the girl. The girl was barely clinging to life as it seemed, and it took every ounce of her to not outwardly grimace as her childhood friend lay there, almost permanently immobile in the bed, with the covers pulled around her. The girl’s hair was very thin, in some spots showing through almost to her scalp, and her skin looked dull and lifeless. She wasn’t sure if she would start crying after seeing the poor shape Anne had been living in for Merlin knows how long. 

Sebastian had informed her that his twin was far cry from the way she remembered, but this was the type of sickness one couldn’t articulate. She had to hand it to Sebastian, maturity had done him well, as he would’ve become absolutely insistent on a cure if he’d seen her like this when he was younger, but now he seemed to be respectful of the woman’s wish to die with as much dignity as possible. Time and grief had squashed his selfish desire to cure his sister so he wouldn’t be left alone. Sitting next to Anne, she didn’t see how this life provided much dignity, but she was happy to see her regardless. It still made her so sad for Anne, and Sebastian. 

“Oh y/n… you look even more breathtaking than Sebastian said…” the woman said so etherally it was as if she was in a dreamlike trance as she spoke. Coming closer to the edge of the bed, she lifted one of Anne’s hands and gently leaned down to press a kiss to each hollowed cheek. 

“Sebastian is going around claiming me to be breathtaking?” she asked with a laugh, knowing that likely Anne had not grown out of her enjoyment at teasing her twin. The shakey laugh she received let her know that her inclination was correct. 

“He hardly stops talking about how beautiful you’ve grown.”  Anne said and although she mostly meant it to tease her brother, she knew deep down that he’d grown so smitten with the neighbor over the years. 

“Well that’s good to know… don’t tell me you had to see that wretched mustache he was sporting a few months ago. I am very glad to see the abysmal thing is gone” y/n replied with a chuckle, recalling how he’d appeared a few months ago at her school versus now. 

“Unfortunately, yes. Thank Merlin he shaved it off. Can you imagine my surprise leaving my brother baby faced and returning to see him with the sad excuse for facial hair he wore” Anne replied. 

“I am right here” Sebastian said, reminding them as he let out an overly dramatic sigh. 

“We know.” Anne told him, drawing the girl closer to whisper to her, “he’s absolutely taken with you, you know?” 

“Is that so?” She asks, knowing full well that Sebastian made his affections known while repressing his intentions to act on them. 

“Terribly so. I think it’s wonderful. Especially with the way you used to be so sweet on him… you’re not..?” Anne was unsure how to ask if she was courting anyone.

“There is no one if that is what you’re asking” she told the sick girl, knowing that Sebastian was likely listening. 

“That’s good to hear. Do you think that perhaps -“ 

“Anne, stop pestering her about our relationship” he said with a sigh, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“But it’s so much fun,” Anne replied with a chuckle.

“I know it is, but maybe lay off it a tad for now…” he deflected gently, hoping to shift the conversation off a topic that made him uncomfortable. The more normalized Anne made it seem, the more likely he was to go back on his word and just extend offers before either of them was ready. Sebastian had to remind himself she deserved a career out of school, not to be stuck as a housewife with their children before she had the chance to live… 

“So how are you Anne, all things considered?” She asked the woman.

“As comfortable as I can be I suppose” she said with a sad smile. 

“Your mum has been an absolute saint, you know that?” Sebastian told her, and she smiled. 

“That’s mum, always helping where she can,'' knowing full well her mothers work as a healer and apothecary was helpful to the surrounding hamlets. 

“We greatly appreciate it, trust me” he assured her.

“So tell me all about school, how has Beauxbatons been?” Anne asked and she spent some time catching the woman up to speed on the last few years. 

It wasn’t long before she had a bout of pain, Sebastian working her through it until she relaxed again. Although it had been years since she’d experienced witnessing them, she fell back into the normalcy of them, having taken care of Anne for so long. Once Anne laid back down again, she drifted off almost immediately to sleep and y/n stood, crossing the threshold to the potions station behind Sebastian. 

She didn’t speak as he moved to tidy it, knowing that based on the expression he wore, he was likely deep in his own head by now. All she did was wrap her arms around his middle, laying her hands across his abdomen and resting her cheek along the area between his shoulder blades. He sighed as she did so, closing his eyes as he allowed her to give him the silent support. After all this time she seemed to read him so well. 

Sebastian brought his hand to collect her own, interlocking their fingers as he felt her warm breath on his back. Eventually he slipped his fingers from hers, turning around as he rested his back along the potions table and gazing down at her.

“Thank you for being here” 

“Of course. Nowhere else I’d rather be” she promised.

“It means the world, but you likely already know that…” 

“I do. No need to explain yourself” 

“It’s been odd to be back and you’re not here. I forgot what life was like in the hamlet before you arrived”, he admitted. 

“Life before I moved to the hamlet…” she said, pretending to ponder for a moment before snarkily replying “must have been absolutely dreadful”. 

“It is. I hadn’t realized why this place felt like home, until the person who made it such was no longer here” he said confidently, tucking her stray curl behind her ear and his gaze bore so boldly into her own. 

“Sebastian… but you said-” 

“I know what I said” he replied with an annoyed sigh, closing his eyes as he held his hand along her neck, collecting himself before he continued. “Please just let me have a moment. I just want a brief moment to allow myself the pleasure of denying reality. Afterwards we can go back to pretending we don’t care for each other, all for the sake of safeguarding your future. But just let me have this moment to feel the very depth of the love I hold for you, please Mon Chou… .” He begged and all she did was nod, leaning in and pressing her forehead to his like she had done on her birthday. The day she had hoped he would just kiss her, only to be denied. The day he admitted to holding deep feelings for her but considering the age difference to be unfair to her. 

She didn’t speak. Breathing him in as her eyes fluttered shut and they simply held one another. She felt the fire that had been lit in her soul the day she met him burning so intensely within her if he hadn’t been holding her upright she likely would’ve bucked at the knees. Having him this close reminded her that he was a young man, and her a young woman, and the feelings they shared were normal. She realized every moment with him from that very first day she had fallen in love so slowly, so beautifully until it came to a head. 

“I love you.” He whispered barely audibly as her eyes snapped open. He hadn’t openly admitted the feelings in this regard to her, not even a few months back. She had, and while he alluded to similar sentiments, he had refrained from actually saying the words. To hear him confirm caused a small sound similar to a squeak to come out of her parted lips as she stared at him. 

Sebastian didn’t allow the girl an opportunity to respond. Lips barely pressing against one another the same way butterfly wings would dance upon the skin, Sebastian brushed his lips over hers before pulling away quickly. It wasn’t a real kiss but it still left her feeling as if she was walking on hot coals. 

“The job I applied for is at Hogwarts. Mrs. Sharp put in a good word with the headmaster and he himself believes that it will be a good fit. I have no reason to believe I will not receive a proper offer soon... Regardless, I intend to come back to Scotland. I miss home. I miss my family. I miss you.” She admitted as he looked into her eyes with an unreadable expression. 

“That’s wonderful you’ll make a fantastic professor.” He told her with a smile. 

“Librarian actually. Madam Scribner is retiring finally. Rebecca was so kind to let the headmaster know how knowledgeable I am with various subjects and how much I read. He agrees having some youth in that department might prove beneficial, especially with catching youngsters sneaking into places they shouldn’t.” She teased as she leaned back slightly, arms going to wrap around his waist, fingers fiddling with his waist coat’s buckle. 

“I only got caught on the very rarest of occasions” he said with a smile. 

“You are such an unashamed liar Sebastian Sallow!” she said with a fake gasp as he chuckled. 

“That makes me truly happy to hear. I am sure your siblings will be thrilled to see more of you during the year” he told her, knowing that if she was at Hogwarts she wouldn’t be far away. 

“I am glad we are both getting more time with our siblings” she said, the comment lingering as he looked past her shoulder to see Anne sleeping. 

“You are partly the reason she came back, you know?” he said flatly and she raised an eyebrow, curious what he could mean by that.

“Ominis spoke to her after Professor Sharp and Ms. Morris’s wedding about how highly you spoke of the progress I’ve made in stepping back from the dark arts. How dedicated I seemed to staying well intended, and how I had respected her wishes to leave her alone. I believe for the longest time, despite Ominis remaining my friend, he thought like Anne in the fact that I still searched for a cure in private. It wasn’t until you spoke with him, that he spoke with Anne. Since then she’s been warming up to the idea of coming home. But without Ominis having your assurance to bring to my beloved sister, she never would’ve come home… she’s only here as a result of your actions.” he explained as he shifted his gaze back to the girl in front of him, her eyes glazed over with tears as she recalled the conversations she had exchanged with the blind boy during the wedding, in which they both admitted to deeply loving the Sallow twins..

“I am really glad she came home… even if it’s not for long. You deserve to feel the warmth of your sister’s love again.” she explained as if it was the most logical explanation in the world. 

“I am not a good man. She left… She left because I killed uncle Solomon. The fact I am not rotting away in Azkaban like I deserve... I am a criminal, a murder. No better than the man who killed your father-” he tried to explain to her and she refused to listen. 

“You are a good man, Sebastian Sallow. A bad man doesn’t use his career to better the lives of those around him. A bad man doesn’t drop his entire life to care for a dying sister. A bad man doesn’t deny his feelings for the sake of respecting a young woman with whom he loves by letting her go, all for the sake of allowing her a fair chance to live her life… I have known tragedy at the hands of cruel men, including your Uncle. Do you believe that I, of all people, would love a wretched man?” she retorted with the rhetorical question and he looked to her.

“I believe that you may be blinded by the affections you shared for me when I was younger-” he started and she raised her voice to him, something in the many years she’d known him she had never done. 

“I am fully aware that you are not some innocent boy anymore. You made that quite clear when you whisked me away from school looking more handsome than I have ever seen you, despite that ridiculous mustache, and brought me to my home village. The gaze you thrust upon me that night contradicted the words you spoke.  I have read every letter you have sent, vaguely detailing the romances you have found in other women. I have continued to whisper into a mirror well after curfew in order to spend time speaking with you no matter how much it destroys me knowing you will continue to chase after women more affluent, more beautiful and more close to you in age than I. Sure, I know full well that I loved that younger version of you who spoke so kindly to me. The one who put up with my presence when he didn’t have to, and who encouraged me when I needed it the most. But do not dare accuse me of mistaking you for a farm boy I met when I was just a child. I am competent enough to recognize that if I myself am a woman, one who seems to so often catch you staring in ways you should not. I am perfectly capable of recognizing that you are a man now, Sebastian.” 

He was stunned. He hardly knew what to say. She was right. He had been rude to accuse her of being idealistic in her affections and he knew well enough to know she had grown with him not because of him. He had not considered that with time her feelings had evolved as they both had, an oversight that now seemed redundant considering he acknowledged previously how his own emotions surrounding her had shifted. 

“So where do we go from here?” he asked her. For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, he was unsure how to proceed or where to look for an answer. 

“You focus on your time with Anne. I focus on my remaining time at school and establishing a career. All I ask…” she trailed off, questioning internally how to word her request as he peaked a glance at her before she continued. “All I ask is that you stop viewing me as some helpless, incapable child who needs protecting. I am an adult, and have been for a while despite still being schooled. It’s time you start acknowledging me as such, especially if you keep gawking at me the way you have been,” she said with a sigh. 

“You’re right. I apologize for my untoward actions-” 

“Don’t” she said raising a hand to silence him. Her eyes spoke to him, letting him know that it was wrong to apologize for something she desperately wanted and he refused to give her, despite the both of them wanting it. “Your actions are the furthest from the most vulgar experiences I have been privy to encounter, although that discussion is not your business in the slightest, nor is it appropriate to discuss given your stated boundaries” 

“Wait, you…” he trailed off as his mind connected the dots in realizing she was far from innocent. 

“Yes. We shall leave it at that.” she continued bluntly.

“Of course” he said with a sigh, realizing that he had essentially shot himself in the foot in gaining new information regarding her fragility, but based on the connotations she spoke, he assumed what she refused to say was contradictory to his concerns. 

“I should be heading back for supper soon. I shall run something by you and Anne, alright?” she offered and he nodded. 

“Thank you, I would greatly appreciate it” he told her with sincerity as he walked her towards the door. She went to grab her jacket realizing that she had walked over with his and not her own, and that would mean she would have to walk back without one. Sensing her plight he grabbed his coat anyway. 

“Take it. I can’t have the beautiful woman next door freezing to death on my lawn” he said, the conversational olive branch in the replacement of the word ‘girl’ with ‘woman’. She accepted it graciously, allowing him to slide it along her arms. Before she could turn around he kissed the side of her cheek and she grew warm at the contact. 

“See you later?” she asked, finally growing timid once more. 

“I shall count the minutes Mon Amour…” he whispered as she looked back at him over her shoulder before she forced her gaze ahead and walked out of the Sallow house with her cheeks stained red. 

—————————————————

Since that night when Sebastian had admitted his feelings and promised to start regarding her as an adult, they had tread awkwardly around one another. One might think that after years of knowing each other, feeling comfortable in their connection and often being in shared spaces, that they would resume business as usual. To assume so would be an oversight. 

She found herself in a constant state of not knowing how to act around him. Sometimes he would be flirty, invading her space and spouting off verbal comments that made her blush madly. It often felt as if they were already a couple based on the way he held her hand longer than he should under tables or they sat side by side with her head on his shoulder. Touches and gazes lingered. Comments toeing on untoward. It would seem as if the tension would snap at any moment sometimes.

Sebastian found himself caught between conflicting worlds in his mind. On the one hand, he truly loved her and enjoyed her company. Every moment laughing together, conversing over books or memories warmed his heart. On the other hand he was finally starting to allow himself to imagine a less than wholesome side of her. Gone was his sweet, innocent mon Chou next door, and replaced was a beautiful temptress who’s hips swayed when she moved. He spent most of his time attempting to maintain propriety while also wanting to drag her out to the privacy of their willow and finally give into his desire of exploring just how much her body had changed. The overwhelming need to feel himself tightly knit within her opening while she shouted his name, kept him in the bath longer than normal as he became well acquainted with his right hand…

As frustrated as he was, he knew that they’d need to wait a bit longer, until her job was definite. That didn’t stop him from continually slipping in random jests attempting to learn more about her previous experiences. To her credit she had remained tight lipped and he knew at this rate it was more to tease him than due to any sort of prudence. 

The day before Christmas Anne fell extremely ill, resulting in a visit from her mother that went on for hours and she owled a potioneer to get additional supplies given the low quantity due to Anne’s frequent need. It was around sunset when the familiar redhead arrived, crates in tow to the y/l/n household. 

“Garreth?” She was surprised to see the man who had been a large part of her Hogwarts research project many years ago. 

“Oh wow… you really grew up gorgeous didn’t you?” Weasley said blushing madly as she stepped forward offering a light kiss to each cheek. It was a normal greeting for her to give, as she was French, but the sight made Sebastian’s blood boil over as he watched the pair from his sister’s bedside. 

“You are too kind Garreth, it’s been far too long” she said kindly, having somewhat lost contact with him a few years after she traveled to hogwarts. They briefly stayed connected but their friendship fizzled out with time. Regardless he had grown closer to her family, often supplying her mother as he traveled through about once a week delivering supplies. Her younger siblings seemed to adore him as the youngest came barreling in, hanging off the Ginger’s very strong arm as he laughed with her younger sister. Coming from a large family and being used to his siblings, Garreth adored children, her siblings being no exception. 

“I heard my aunt say you’re going to be starting in the fall as old Scribner's replacement. I suppose I will be seeing more of you..” he said mischievously and she quirked an eyebrow to ask why. 

“Both of the Sharps are taking a leave of absence since they have a baby due in July, so I’m taking over potions” he explained with a bright smile. 

“Oh that sounds wonderful! It will be so nice to have a familiar face around school!” She said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before letting go to help move the supplies over to her mothers workstation. 

“Perhaps I could take you out for a drink sometime… catch up before the year…” he offered with a grin. 

“Please do, I am terrified my daughter here will become a spinster the way she consistently turns down the gentlemen at her school. Besides I would love grandchildren before I’m old and gray… can you imagine how precious they would be with all those freckles…” her mom teased out from the corner as Sebastian withheld the contents of his lunch. 

Absolutely not. There’s no circumstances in which he would allow Weasley of all people to swoop in on his woman. Besides if her mom wanted grandchildren with freckles he would happily provide them… 

“I uh-“ she said trying to form a polite rejection to his offer when Sebastian interrupted by standing and moving towards them. 

“Weasley, long time no see. Why don’t I help you, as there’s no need for any of these lovely ladies to be lifting a finger around here, yet you have the fairest woman in the room carrying nearly as much as you” Sebastian spoke, and while many could mistake his comment for humorous, she knew that the moment the two men got alone things had the potential to be ugly.

“Uh… sure Sallow… there’s just a bit more by the cart out there…” Garreth explained as they moved to head outside and she went to follow. Sebastian intercepted her, hands coming to rest on her forearms as he lightly held her from a respectable distance given their audience. 

“Why don’t you wait here mon chéri…no need for you to lift even one of these beautiful fingers. we’ve got this handled, right Garreth?” He asked without breaking his gaze from her, lifting her hand gently. She shuddered as he stared directly at her. 

“We do” Garreth squeaked out, clearly embarrassed and Sebastian paid him no mind as he very boldly leaned down, grabbing her by the waist and brushing his lips over her cheek before proudly stepping away leaving them all in shock. Lifting a hand she touched her face, still feeling the linger of his kiss there as the skin tingled. At first she didn’t react, stunned he would so unashamedly do such a thing in front of her family when he hadn’t even asked her to court properly. Of course Sebastian sallow would behave like a territorial brute. 

A small part of her felt very warm watching him leave, the ghost of his lips finally wearing off. To be manhandled that way, as he claimed her in front of another man … It was exhilarating. That was until her mother spoke. 

“Did Sallow just… well I can certainly say I never saw that coming” her mother spouted off with a laugh. 

“Why’s that?” She asked timidly. 

“I just have seen some of the women he previously… entertained… Let's just say Sebastian is a bit of a Tom cat… and the women he’s around are much more … I am just surprised since you’ve always been sweet on him and he paid you no mind. Not that I fully blame him…” her mother trailed off, alluding to the fact Sebastian had previously been with women more beautiful than herself. That shouldn’t be a shock, but to hear her mother assume that Sebastian wasn’t likely to be interested in her ever, stung. Even when he displayed his affection openly her mother still assumed she wasn’t good enough for the neighboring farm boy. 

Having heard enough of the conversation she fled upstairs to her loft, not wanting to be around them anymore. Realizing Sebastian did in fact have more experience with women even her mother thought were prettier, nearly brought tears to her eyes. The thought of facing down Garreth, a man who had always been nothing but respectful, after she was sure Sebastian had laid into the man in private… she didn’t want to think like that. 

Curling up on her bed she sighed, looking around the room. She saw the ceiling still enchanted from that night Sebastian had slept there following Anne’s curse. She saw the stack of letters on the desk and the flower he’d given her years ago. Sitting down she reached for the piece of parchment and quill. Before setting them back down. 

Her mother was likely right. 

Opening her window she looked over at the tree next to it, deciding that making a run for it was better than waiting around for her mother to scold her or Sebastian to come corner her when she felt vulnerable. Quietly slipping down the tree she cast a charm to sneak out of the hamlet and off in the direction of the beach. Going to the willow felt too exhaustive right now and she knew that likely Sebastian would look for her there first. As she made her to the quiet shores she took a seat on some rocks.  

Entranced in a crystal veil as the fallen angels from heaven descended upon her to their permanent damnation within her fiery depths. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there watching the snowfall as tears streamed down her face. She also wasn’t sure at what point Sebastian sat next to her on the stone, his arms pulling her into his frame as she violently shook. 

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have done something so openly affectionate in front of others like that. It was rude of me.” He told her, the guilt evident in his voice. 

She didn’t respond, unsure how to explain to him her feelings of inadequacy. He wouldn’t understand that she was not good enough for him, and that he had already done better than her, and likely would again in the future. This temporary phase he was experiencing likely was due to proximity and needing emotional support with Anne’s health. Perhaps she should consider the company of Garreth. The man was kind, light hearted, and had her mothers approval. They would both be in close quarters in the fall with work. They could truly be a decent match. He also was quite handsome with his freckled skin and long auburn hair. Albeit, not as handsome as Seb- No. 

When she still hadn’t responded, only lessening her tears for a moment Sebastian grew concerned he really had upset her with his actions. Removing her from his arms, he sought after her eyes for confirmation on the storm brewing within her mind. 

Lifting a hand to push the hair that had obstructed his view, he held her face in his large hands, forcing her to look at him. The wildness in her expression caught him off guard. “Talk to me Mon Ange… how can I make this right?” he asked her as she shook her head, trying to remove herself from his grasp as he continued to hold her. 

At his begging her eyes once again flooded with tears. The strength and domineering energy in his grasp juxtaposed with the softness in his voice brought her to a place that she didn’t quite understand. 

“What did I do to bring you to tears-” he started and something within her just snapped. 

“This is about what you refuse to do. You keep giving me false hope and then don’t act on your feelings, despite your candor a few nights ago. I sit there, every day, hoping it will have been long enough to meet your approval. You claim to know what is best for me, and that I need to wait. However it pains me to share proximity with the one I love, the one who loves me, and we both must repress those feelings. At what point do I get a say in all of this? And then, when you do act upon your feelings it is only as a result of another man showing interest in me. Your actions are territorial at best, brutish at worst. Not to mention, my mother’s so eloquent way of pointing out that I am much less than every woman you’ve entertained or brought back here in my absence. It makes me feel as if you are ashamed of me somehow, and that once you no longer need to be here to take care of Anne, you’ll be back to being Mr. Star Ambassador in France. It all feels so, so, suffocating, especially when you know how truly deep my affects are for you Sebastian. Loving you removes every trace of air from my lungs to the point it hurts.” She admits in a blubbering mess of tears and slight yelling as the sea roars beside them and the snow continues to fall, her outburst leaving him speechless. 

After a moment of not speaking she began to fully sob once more and he continued to hold her face in his hands, his own body shaking as he felt her tremors coursing within him as well. 

“Why am I not good enough for you? Why am I not enough for you to act upon the ways you claim to feel? And why does it hurt so much to know that there’s a chance I shall never be enough for you?” she asked him and the words tore through him more harshly than if she had slapped him.  Her feelings of inadequacy, when in fact it was his own that continued to plague their relationship nearly angered him. To hear that the girl woman felt less than, when he was the one who didn’t deserve her care…

“Stop.” He warned her, a slight threat buried in his exasperated tone. 

“Stop? Stop mentioning things for how they are? Stop bringing up that you only see me as a commodity, never once giving me the time of day until I grew the figure of a woman? Stop acknowledging I will never be enou-” She had countered his request with fire, almost aggressively as her emotions reached a breaking point, however Sebastian had heard enough of her diminishing herself and reacted equally in anger. 

“I said stop! You will always, and have always been my entire world. Even when I did not know it, you were there. After Uncle Solomon, everyone abandoned me except you. I have always loved you so, perhaps not always in the ways you needed me to, but I have. You are too good, too pure, too perfect. I am terrified that I will end up hurting you if I allow you to get too close to a wretched man like myself. That is my curse to bear, for the actions I have chosen. But don’t you ever insinuate that you are worthless to me, not when you -” he stopped shouting, voice cracking as a damn in which he’d been holding back for years finally broke. At his raised voice she had shrunk, not in fear, but in shock, however hearing his voice break caused her heart to leap. 

“Not when you are my sky of stars. You are my willow dancing in the breeze, strong, tall and beautiful. You are the light in the darkness that nearly consumed me.  You are the flash of blue in my world of green, harmonizing the way that the sea meets the shore or the sky kisses the earth. You are the bookkeeper in the library of my life, knowing me in ways that no one has or ever will.  You are the shard that I keep so close to my heart, since you are the one in which it wholly belongs…” he said, voice laced with nothing but pure, arden love as he lifted her hand to his chest. 

“Do you feel that? Do you feel the way it beats for you? How it races faster than a Clydesdale across the highlands? You are at the precipice of my entire being. How could such a broken man like myself not irrevocably love such a woman? But someone so wonderful like you, wanting me? That feels utterly impossible.” he spoke sadly as he leaned in, lips once again only a breath away from her own, as he looked slightly past her. 

“You are the snow on this god forsaken beach. Just breaking down every wall within me without a sound…” he whispered as a single tear fell from the corner of his dark eye and rolled down his face. “I… fuck… come here…” he whispered as she was rendered speechless and he didn’t let the silence linger for long as he pulled her chin closer to his with a hand, his lips harshly pressing to her own as she finally got a taste of him. 

The first thing she noticed, after the initial shock wore off, is that his lips were much softer than she anticipated they would be. After years of staring at the plush, pillowy lips he had, her mind had always created expectations of what they would feel like against her own. Almost as if on instinct, she brought her hands up, curling her fingers into the soft waves at the nap of his neck, holding him closer to her as he continued to kiss her feverantly. 

Sebastian was almost stunned when he felt her tongue tracing over his bottom lip, requesting the entrance to his mouth that she so desperately desired, groaning out when their tongues met one another. The way the appendage danced alongside his own while they continued to grasp, pull and press against one another brought forth a wave of arousal more intense than one he’d ever experienced before.  She was almost stunned at how incredible she was at this…

Breaking away breathlessly, he whispered out “I forgot you were french…” he said, referring to the intense kissing he’d only experienced frequently and quickly with the women in Paris. At his comment he chuckled, leading her to anticipate he would keep talking, but like a starved man, he dived back in and resumed kissing her with more fire than before, immediately forcing his tongue back into a battle with hers. 

The way his hands roamed her body, as if he knew every dimple, every freckle, every curve, every scar before he had even began to touch her, left her feeling breathless. He commanded her body’s natural reaction simply with his expert hands and even more adept lips, trailing away from her mouth and pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone while she melted into him. 

Sebastian’s hands grasp at her thighs, lifting her from sitting on the stone next to him, to pull her over him, gently setting the girl on his lap as he tipped her neck to more firmly meet his mouth. He was almost surprised when she immediately began to rock back and forth in his lap, shocked that she was already so comfortable with physical relations, but then again she had told him she wasn’t a blushing virgin anymore… 

She too shouldn’t have been surprised when she felt him growing more and more aroused underneath her clothed core, as she continued gently rocking on his lap. The heat that consumed the both of them, brought forth a rosy hew to their complexions, specifically Sebastian by igniting the constellations across his cheeks and forehead into a wine stained nebula. 

Pulling away she rested her forehead against his own, eyes searching his to ground the both of them back in reality. Reality? Reality. Yes. Reality. A place she currently existed, perched atop his lap as his hands were planted along her hip and the side of her neck. A reality in which she could still taste him upon her lips. Where she could still feel his uneven breath upon her face, as the small cloud broke through the freezing cold winds rushing off the sea. A reality where she pulled back to see just how much snow had collected in his unkempt chocolate brown locks, even more dishevled than normal considering the way she had run her fingers through it.  The wild look he continued to wear as the result of their osculation.  His dark eyes piercing her own, greedily drinking her appearance as well. He looked so much more handsome when he had that feral look in his eyes, she couldn’t help but think.

She also couldn’t help but allow a small smirk to work itself onto the corners of her swollen lips, prideful to the fact that she had caused him to look in such a manor. It had all been a culmination of him kissing her. 

“Wow…” he said dreamily after a moment, the wind still nipping at their cheeks and the snow continuing to fall around them. A single flake fell between the nearly non existent space between them, catching in his long eyelashes as she gazed upon the man. 

“That was…” she tried to articulate, words dying upon her lips as she struggled to put into words the way he made her stomach drop, her heart soar and her mind empty. Not to mention, the way her core throbbed with need between them… or perhaps that was sebastian throbbing beneath her… she couldn’t be quite sure. 

She giggled out at her frustration, and he joined in not long after she started, as the two worked their small chuckles into full laughter. At hearing the melodic sound leaving her blushed lips, Sebastian pulled her in closer, resting his face in the slightly chilled crook of her neck and the side of his head against her own. She responded by wrapping tighter around him, her arms going around to the space under his worn leather coat. 

“You truly have no idea how long I have wanted to do that” he admitted after a moment, pulling back slightly, but not before taking a deep inhale of her perfume.

“I think I do know” she countered with a raised eyebrow, referring to the several almost kisses that he’d stolen previously, not to mention her own desires to do so long before he had those thoughts of his own. 

At this he laughed again, the hearty noise filling the space between them as his heart continued to pound in his chest. Never in all his life had he felt so happy and at peace than to be here with her, making jokes after confirming the love the two shared. To be completely content within the company of one another, even after all this time, felt like something more powerful than even the strongest magic he could conjur. 

“My Mon Chou…” he whispered with a boyish grin, eyes once again meeting hers as his tone softened, alluding to a possibility he expected to wake up any moment. It rivaled one of a small child, experiencing something wonderful for the first time, as they would speak with awestruck wonder. 

“Mon garçon de ferme…” she countered as his smile widened enough to show his teeth. She remembered he often wouldn’t smile so brightly, given he was admittedly self conscious about how his teeth looked and how awkward he appeared when his nostrils flared and his large teeth became unobstructed in a smile. While she always argued this line of thought to be grossly overexaggerated on his part, she knew that he only allowed himself to smile like this when he was truly happy. The fact he did so now, warming her heart despite the freezing chill. 

Almost as if reminded of the cold, she shuddered against him as he too became aware their chosen location wasn’t ideal given the strong winds off the ocean made for bone chilling air. 

“I suppose I should’ve been more of a gentleman and not have poured the fullest of my affections onto the woman I love dearly when it was this terribly cold and uncomfortable outside” he admitted regretfully as he brushed his snow damp fringe off his forehead. 

“I would not alter a thing about this moment” she said sharply, laying her head on his shoulder, as her body caved into his, and she relaxed in his arms. She remained on his lap for the time being, legs pushed to one side instead of the way they had previously been settled on both sides of his waist. 

“So you wouldn’t have chosen a more romantic spot if given the option?” he asked playfully, resting his head atop hers as he brought his hand down to examine hers. He was taken aback at how dainty her hands still looked after the many years of abuse from her chores, wand holding and other activities. Instead it sat within his calloused grip, her fingers thin and long, and the skin so incredibly soft to the touch it rivaled rose petals. 

“I wouldn’t change a thing” she said blissfully, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be grounded within the moment. He followed her lead, watching the faint outline of the waves crash along the shore through the more intensly falling snow. 

“Me either” he admitted, allowing the comforting peace the moment brought to counter the raging emotions within him. She sat here, on his lap no less, and for the first time they had indulged in and thrown caution to the wind. After years of falling in love, he finally decided that this woman, this lovely, wonderful, incredible woman was worth the fear of messing up. That she was no longer an emotion to repress, but one to feel in it’s fullest extent. Finally, there was no hiding it. 

“The woman you love dearly?” she asked mischieviously after a moment, lifting her head from his shoulder to gaze up at him, her brilliant eyes sparkling with reflections of falling snow. 

“Among other things, but yes” he admitted, finally not finding the words frightening to say out loud. 

“Such as?” Her tone was hopeful, and he was not in the business of denying her anymore moving forward. He vowed then and there, that she would never suffer as a result of his repressed thoughts or emotions. “My best friend… my favorite confidant… the most beautiful witch I’ve ever known… the love of my life…” he whispered, once again pressing his lips to hers as they kissed along the snow covered beach.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hero x Monster- Part 6

part 5

Villain had carried Hero halfway through to the monster’s cave when Hero began to regain feeling in their limbs. They thought about squirming to get free, but Villain could very well shock them again. When they got to the cave, Villain gently set Hero down in their pile of blankets, then stood next to them to keep watch over them. Hero was at a loss for what to do; they knew first-hand that the monster’s control was impossible to get out of. The only thing that seemed to help was the earbuds. The earbuds! Hero still had their own pair, maybe… no, that might not work… but anything was worth a try.

While Villain was focused on watching the cave entrance, Hero leapt up and tackled them to the ground. Before Villain could shock them again, Hero swapped out their short-circuited earbuds for one of theirs. Now they were each wearing one working earbud.

“Gah, Hero!” Villain cried.

“Don’t think about shocking me again, I’m not afraid to freeze you!” Hero threatened.

“Hero, it’s me, I swear!” Villain yelled.

“Oh,” Hero realized, “that worked faster than I thought.”

“Yes, now would you mind getting off of me? You’re heavy.”

“Oh! Right, sorry.”

Hero scrambled off of Villain and helped them to their feet.

“The monster’s attacking the city,” Hero said, “we have to go back.”

Hero turned to leave the cave, expecting Villain to follow them.

“Hero, wait,” Villain said, grabbing their arm, “that thing will stop at nothing to get to you. Let me take care of it; get yourself far away from here and the city.”

Hero looked at Villain sadly.

“I can’t,” Hero said, “you can’t take them on your own, but if we take them together, we might stand a chance.”

“Hero-”

“Villain, we’re doing this; I’ve had my free will taken away by that creature long enough, don’t you start trying to take it away too.”

Villain sighed, then let go of Hero’s arm.

“Alright. What’s the plan?”

…

The monster had made short work of the SWAT team. It hated violence, but evidently that was the only language these people understood. All they wanted was to take care of Hero, why were they meeting so much resistance because of that? Hero was gentle, and kind, and perfect. But they were also fragile, they needed someone to look out for them, to take care of them, and this city was doing a pretty poor job of that, sending them out to fight their crimes. The monster turned when it heard the sound of footsteps swiftly approaching.

“Little one?” the monster asked, tilting its head.

Hero and Villain were running towards them, propelled by a stream of ice that Hero was creating. What were they doing here? The monster had sent them home. How had they managed to leave?

…

“Stop this!” Hero cried out, “we don’t want to fight you!”

“Little Hero, look around,” the monster said, “There’s no need to upset yourself. I haven’t killed anyone; I’ve just incapacitated some people that were in my way. They needed to be taught a lesson. No one is permitted to get in my way, especially when my intentions are pure. Come, let’s go home.”

“I’m not going with you!” Hero said firmly, “don’t you understand? You kidnapped me and took my will away. Why would I ever want to live with you?”

“Little one-”

“No, enough.” Hero said, shaking their head, “for once you’re going to stop talking and listen. All you’ve done since taking me is terrorize this city and me. You can’t just pluck someone from their home and expect them to love you! I know you think I need you, and that I need protecting or something, but I can take care of myself, I don’t need to be locked away like some baby bird that can’t fly. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go back to your cave, and I’m going to stay here with Villain and do damage control. If you can prove to me that you won’t terrorize anybody, I’ll… I’ll come and visit you so you won’t be alone.”

The monster seemed to consider Hero’s words for a moment. Hero and Villain waited with bated breath to see what would happen. Villain squeezed Hero’s hand as Hero stood their ground. The monster’s appendages twitched, their emotions unreadable.

“I’m sorry, little one,” the monster finally said, “it was never my intention to hurt you. I… I see I have hurt you.”

The monster inched closer to Hero and bent their head down to their level.

“If this is what you truly want, then I will leave you be.”

The monster stroked Hero’s face lovingly with a tendril, then strode past them back into the forest.

“Hey!” Hero called, turning to watch them leave.

The monster turned its head.

“I meant what I said,” Hero said, “I’ll visit you, okay? We’ve just gotta work on boundaries… among other things.”

“You are too generous, little Hero,” the monster replied, “but I look forward to it all the same.”

With that, the monster vanished into the forest, back to its cave, where an empty nest of blankets awaited them.

“Well,” Villain said, “that was… easier than I expected. I was fully ready to enact plan B though.”

“Yeah, because zapping it totally worked last time,” Hero said.

“Okay, but to be fair, you were gonna freeze it, too,” Villain replied.

“Let’s just make sure the SWAT team’s okay.”

…

Epilogue

“And then I sent an ice beam right under Villain’s feet!” Hero said excitedly.

The monster laughed softly.

“You are a masterful storyteller, little Hero,” the monster purred, “everything about you amazes me more and more.”

“Okay, but I still managed to get away,” Villain grumbled.

“Only because Hero let you, I’m sure,” the monster said.

Hero laughed and poured more hot chocolate out of the thermos and into everyone’s cups. The monster lapped theirs up with enthusiasm, while Villain tried to savor theirs. Hero sipped on theirs and let it warm them from the inside. Villain checked the time on their phone and nearly choked on their hot chocolate.

“It’s getting late, Hero,” Villain said, standing up, “we should probably go.”

“Oh,” Hero said, “alright. We’ll see you later then.”

“I very greatly look forward to it, little Hero.”

The monster picked up a blanket from the mound and handed one to Hero.

“Take this,” the monster said, “you can bring it back next time.”

Hero smiled and took the blanket. They wrapped it around their shoulders and left the cave with Villain. The monster curled up next to the blanket mound, eagerly awaiting Hero’s next visit.

tags: @thelazywitchphotographer, @scp-1296, @discordzero, @briars7, @bagelthesharkman, @lilsoni3xx

Thanks to @deckofaces for helping me out with this part!

[pancake-breakfast]

This playthrough of ME has been a bit of an eye-opener for me. I've played the game several times before. I usually alternate between my canon Shep (one where I make all the decisions in the way that feels right to me) and I guess what one could call character study Sheps. For the character study ones, I usually choose a romance I want to aim for and a very basic idea on their alignment (I never play straight paragon or straight renegade), and then add a few key character traits to keep them on that path.

This Shep is a character study one. I named him Oscar. (He's kind of modeled after Oscar Isaacs in appearance.) I wanted him to be an engineer who romances Tali, and generally a pretty kind person despite being a soldier and all. He's someone who wants to understand things and is generally low judgement on people's differences until he gets to know them.

This doesn't work well for Shepard.

For the first time, I've found a lot of the dialog choices (even the paragon ones) to have far too harsh responses for my character concept. He gets both mad and aggressive quicker than the version of him in my head does, and that's frustrating.

And Oscar Shepard didn't like Garrus.

For the record, on canon playthroughs, I tend to romance Garrus. He's a long-time favorite of mine. But Oscar Shep? He sees Garrus as a bit of a rogue cop who is more interested in making his own rules to pursue his own sense of justice than interested in understanding why those rules are in place. And that's dangerous.

Plenty of cops already tend to act above the law. Even in game, Bailey is someone who has a tendency to bend the rules to his own end. Bailey commends torture so long as the right people are being tortured, and even tells a recruit it's necessary to get the job done in the wards. One could even argue that Spectres act like rogue cops, albeit with an official government permit that says they can do so. But because of that, it's very important to Oscar Shep that he does not go rogueing it up all over the place. He takes his job and his position as the first human Spectre very seriously, and he wants to be the kind of example that suggests that while Spectres are definitely dangerous, they are not by necessity cruel or mean-spirited or just itching to break all the rules. He would never torture a prisoner. He won't even punch a reporter. (He does, however, give her the worst, most useless interviews, which amuses the hell out of me.)

Now, Garrus also doesn't believe in torturing prisoners. He says as much if you take him on Jack's recruitment mission and linger near the cell where one of the guards is going to town on one of the prisoners. But... that's two very big ifs, and Oscar Shep didn't take Garrus on that mission. So instead he sees Garrus as someone who, by Garrus's own admission, ran away from the "red tape" of C-Sec (rather than running away from the corruption of C-Sec) to go to Omega, where again by Garrus's own admission, all he had to do to find and punish criminals was sight down his barrel and shoot.

Garrus is trying to look out for the little guys on Omega. But Omega also has a reputation of being populated entirely by criminals. So Oscar Shep finds himself asking, "Once Garrus is done taking out the big-time criminals, what's to stop him from going after the small-time ones?" (It's Aria. Garrus isn't gonna beat Aria.)

This perception of Garrus isn't made better by Garrus's obsession with getting revenge on Sidonis. Oscar Shep is very protective of his people (he got all the renegade points when dealing with The Illusive Man after the "derelict" Collector ship because that mission summarily erased every ounce of good grace Oscar Shep was granting TIM), he's not the revenge type. He'd deck The Illusive Man. He'd throw him into custody. He might even go so far as to leave him to die if an occasion arose where Oscar needed to save TIM for TIM to get out of the situation. (We're still in ME2 here, so how he'll handle the final confrontation remains to be seen.) But if he did (does?) take TIM out, it wouldn't be for revenge. It would be because TIM is too big a threat to a bigger population than just Oscar Shep and his crew.

But Garrus looks at getting revenge on Sidonis as justice. Sidonis isn't going to do the kind of harm he did to Garrus's team again to anyone. The guy is so depressed and heartbroken he would likely just let anyone who threatened him with a pointy stick kill him at this point. But Garrus didn't stop to look at the bigger picture. Shep has to force the issue.

Which is exactly what you have to do when pursuing Dr. Saleon in 1.

Now, Garrus can back down in both situations depending on how you play, and of course he backed down for Oscar Shep, but Oscar can't shake the thought of what might happen if he's not there to reign Garrus in one of these times. How far will Garrus go? If these "lessons in investigating to determine how justice is best served" aren't sticking, what kind of person will Garrus become?

Way back up there, I said Oscar Shep didn't like Garrus. That wasn't a mistake. Oscar is hopeful for the best in people, and seeing Garrus calm down both times gives him hope for the best. But he's also a bit wary of the worst. And so for now, they simply have a cool camaraderie. Not really a friendship, but there's a respect and an understanding between them.

I just wonder how this might affect my own perceptions of Garrus on future playthroughs.

[tangledbea]

Same anon back from the coronation dress q, wondering how you'd rate Corona's overall progressiveness throughout the show, on a scale 1-10? Like how people who are outside the stereyotypical western norms based on sexuality, race, etc. were treated treated. I imagine it was improved after Rapunzel and to a latter extent Eugene started to take over (post series) but still.

I've been trying to wrap my head around this question all day because there is zero evidence that there's racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ sentiment, etc within the world of Tangled. (With the creators? Sure. But that has no bearing on the world views in-universe.)

The POC in the series being designated to support characters and villains doesn't mean that's how the world sees them, or that they're discriminated against because of their race. No one's sexuality is ever made explicitly clear, nor is it spoken against. Corona is permitted to have a ruling queen, rather than a ruling king, and we're not seeing any gender-based blocks as far as careers go. (I am not one of the people who thinks that Cassandra was held back from being a guard because she was a woman -- after all, the few times she was allowed to be a guard, there was already armor in her size and *ahem* shape, and I can't imagine that it was specifically made for her on the off-chance that she might hold guard duty at some point.)

If there is one that Corona assuredly has, it's classism. The merchant class and higher all adore Frederic, but he came down so super hard on the criminals, who are assuredly lower class. And to that end, I 100% believe that Rapunzel sets systems in place to help at the bottom and work its way up.

I believe she sets up free schools and apprenticeships for orphans so that they can get a proper education, which will give them a leg up into getting a job once they age out of the system and give them more options than thievery or death. And I believe Eugene (and Lance) give her a lot of input and insight into what orphans are lacking so that she can set up a good system.

[rattlyglitch]

The Secret's to Tell

Epel walked out of the mirror to the Pomefiore dorm wearing a dark teal suit with a white undershirt and a black tie. He couldn’t express how happy he was when the clothes on his bed were a suit and not some more wavy outfit like the one Vil had chosen to wear. Vil followed close behind Epel in a dark purple long-sleeved shirt with ruffled cuffs, black pants, flats, and a black shoulder cape. “Are you trying to look like a king or something?”

Vil simply shook his head no. “That is not the point of this outfit. Anyways baby potato are you ready to go? Our ride is waiting outside one of the school mirrors in the mirror chamber and Headmaster Crowley permitted us to leave.” Epel took a deep breath in before releasing it slowly and gave a nod. “I’m ready, let's get this started.” Vil gave Epel a soft smile before the two began their walk towards the mirror chamber. During the walk, Vil and Epel were silent not speaking a word to the other but once they entered the limo Vil looked at Epel with a calm expression.

“I can see that your nerves are getting the best of you, Epel. If you would like it may be possible for me to change your outlook on this event. Epel looked at Vil desperately. “Please do. I don’t know why but I really can’t see this whole thing different from the first day the class met Professor Crewel.” Epel knew he would be of interest to whoever was at the event. If he had to guess from what Rook said Vil wasn’t usually seen at athletic events and he had brought a guest with him to it.

“Think about everyone you might see as a customer that you're selling apple juice to. You have to be kind and proper in your responses but remember to not lose face. I will do most of the talking for you but there will be questions I am not able to divert from you.” Epel gave an understanding nod. “Will I have to answer any odd questions? I prefer tha I didn’. I don’ like a thinkin about all tha personal stuff.” Epel nervously twiddled his thumbs around each other waiting for an answer. Vil shook his head.

“You shouldn’t have to. Your name and the school we go to should suffice for personal questions. Just make sure you don’t slip back into your accent in a spout of nervousness. That will just make you of more interest and gain you more questions.” Epel felt the limo come to a stop after Vil had finished talking. Vil was helped out of the limo and Epel soon followed after. “Now Epel make sure to smile,” Vil said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Epel smiled confused but understood what Vil met when he was met with several people who had flashing cameras. He kept smiling as the two entered a building that was called “The Spelldrive Museum”. Most questions were directed towards Vil who managed to answer them with ease. “Who is the guest you brought with you?” one of the female reporters asked. “My guest's name is Epel Felmier.” ANother reporter looked at Epel.

“Are you a student at Night Raven College Mr.Felmier?” Epel smiled nervously. “ I’m from Night Raven College and in my second year. I’m also on the spelldrive team.” Vil moved to stand in front of Epel, his hand still on his shoulder though. “That is all the questions available to be answered from him. Thank you.” Vil waved to the reporters and Epel did the same as the two walked into the museum. “Wait Mr.Vil we have more questions please-” The doors to the museum closed and Epel sighed in relief. “Those reporters were so loud I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts.”

Vil shrugged in response and took his hand off Epel’s shoulder. “I thought they were rather tame actually. They could have prevented us from entering the museum by blocking the way. They were more civil though. The guards at the door did help though and seemed to be able to comprehend instructions on their job possibly more than those in the past. Now you can lead the way. I’ll follow you to make sure you make it to your intended destination. You are free to look around though. I am not forcing you to remain here. We must go see the spelldrive teams in an hour though to meet them.”

Epel hurried off after he heard what Vil said, not waiting for him. The exhibits were all amazing. Epel was able to marvel at all the different brooms that had been used over the years and even see tactics that had been used by different team members throughout the years. Night Raven College even had an exhibit at the museum. Epel was quick to answer any questions Vil had to ask. Whenever he asked “What does that broom do?” or “Which player used that move?” Epel was able to answer them without fail happily.

Spelldrive was a game Epel had learned from the moment he was born. Vil only interrupted Epel when it was time for them to head over to the teams. You do want to meet them right?” Epel quickly responded with a “Yes!” before the two of them headed over to the teams. Immediately as they walked into the room they were met with reporters. “Mr.Vil, Mr.Felmier did you intend to come here together?” Vil raised a brow. “Of course we did, why wouldn’t we?” A beast woman was next to ask Vil a question. “Mr.Schoenheit, how did you get to know the son of Estelle Fumino?” Vil raised a brow. “My father's ex-fiance never had a son?”

A bear beastman reporter raised his hand. “Does that mean you lied about Epel Felmier’s name?” Vil shook his head no. “That is truly his name, why would I lie about that?” A female reporter spoke up. “Estelle Fumino’s true last name was Felmier. She was responsible for almost ending your father’s career. Could this boy be your half-brother?” Epel felt himself begin to panic.

He always knew that somehow his mother's past would come back to get him. It was hard though to even hear Vil speaking to the reporters over his own thoughts. “There is no possible way that she is related to Epel and he can clarify these misconceptions.” Vil looked down at Epel who only looked up at Vil with terror in his eyes. Epel could see as his housewardens face changed to shock at the realization. “Are they telling the truth, Epel?” Epel gave a small nod.

“I-I’m going to leave.” Epel took off running, not stopping until he reached the limo which still remained in front of the museum, and had closed the door making sure it was locked. Once he was safely inside the limo Epel screamed.

[octagledestroyer]

Good Omens Episode 2

Ok so first of all

...that first post blew up. Or at any rate it’s become more popular than any post I’ve ever made before so THANK YOU to my new followers and everyone who liked or reblogged it! 

I start the episode and the first people I see are Gabriel and Sandalphon- what an encouraging opening.

Also, forgot to mention yesterday but Aziraphale’s bookstore is a LOT bigger than I had imagined and I want to live there. 

Gabriel’s so friggin oblivious he has absolutely no idea what pornography is and I am cacklingggg

that side-eye from the other guy in the shop

“You can’t have a war without War” ah yes very clever. 

oooh I love Crowley’s flat. Wouldn’t want to live there, but it’s cool. 

the red-haired chick is War, isn’t she. Oh, yeah, here come the guns. 

I still don’t get the theme song, but I like the music

Agnes’ letter to the milk-man is so matter of fact

oh no, she cured people of diseases and thinks running is good for you, she must be a horrible satanic person

gonna be honest, this isn’t how I expected Agnes to look. I didn’t have a specific idea, mind you, this just isn’t it

well I wasn’t expecting THAT. I don’t think Mr. Adultery did either

pppft she wrote a prophecy about a phone company. Stocks 101 with Agnes Nutter. 

aaaand of course I haven’t been pronouncing Anathema right either. See kids, this is why you watch the show first. 

oohhhh cool, Agnes’ descendant and Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery’s descendant end up together. Hm. Well, at least I got Newton right. 

Oh Newton, you poor boy. Also Anathema’s hilarious and hot. 

whoa Anathema’s cottage is cute

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.” How did they get the plants to tremble like that?

Poor Newton’s so confused and flusteredddd. I don’t like anyone that way but I just want to protect him. 

Now I’m starting to think Mr Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer might not have had that strange of a name for a witchhunter 

“You’ve lost the boy-” “WE’VE lost the boy.” “A-a child has been lost” nice use of the passive there

Did Brian just BITE his ice cream? Who BITES their ice cream?

I love the introductions, although Brian’s shirt and face are sending chills down my spine

Does this happen a lot? Aziraphale makes some grand speech on philosophy and theology and then Crowley just slices through it with logic?

pppft Anathema’s so concerned about their game she’s like “Inquisition? TORTURE?” and its a tire swing

She’s looking so hard for the AntiChrist and he’s right there 

That is a TERRIBLE parking job and as a permit-holder it is making me            c r i n g e 

He’s so obvious trying to get Crowley to get the stain off his coat 

Lol Norman with his tie around his- oh. Wait, no, I read about this, those guns don’t actually kill, right? ...right?

Right. Oh, he’s gonna call him nice, isn’t he? And then we’ll have the classic pinned-to-the-wall scene. 

“This is because most books on witchcraft are written by men.” If that isn’t the truth... 

oh my god it would have broken her armmmmm also they act exACTly like an old married couple 

“Open thine eyes and read, foolish principalite, for thy cocoa doth grow cold” how very useful. No sarcasm here, for once. 

Literally I want Aziraphale to look that shocked all of the time it’s fanTAStic

Alright, that’s the end of Episode 2 and my ramblings which people seem (for some reason) to be interested in. The next post should probably be coming out sometime tomorrow. 

[donnerpartyofone]

At one point when I was trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, I saw a psychologist who had a holistic angle that I liked the sound of. She ran this crazy battery of blood tests, and told me that I had the highest copper levels she'd ever seen. She explained to me that the inability to properly metabolize copper is connected to depression and anxiety, and suddenly things started to make sense to me.

I do not have it as bad as I might, which would mean Wilson's disease, which has been historically mistaken for schizophrenia. But it did seem to help explain my lifelong, severe depression and anxiety. And it also had some kind of satisfyingly poetic resonance vis-a-vis my problems with femininity. Copper has this Venusian association, and is also therefore associated with Taurus, which I happen to be, and I always felt burdened by this ultra-feminine assignment. I have certainly always felt like a woman but I never felt like I was permitted to enter the feminine world. My mother seemed to kind of hate me right out of the gate for some obscure personal reason (and/or because I'm crazy). I had a much harder time getting along with girls than with boys. My main interests were all considered traditionally masculine. As a teenager, I could never figure out any of the feminine beauty or seduction rituals, and I didn't have the kind of friends who would teach me them. I rarely have a period if I don't take a pill about it, I don't have problems with PMS, and I have absolutely no maternal feelings whatsoever, so I cannot achieve community with my fellow women through those items. As a straight female, I have always felt like a fucking alien.

^And because of all that, it made some kind of sense to me that my mind is being poisoned by an excess of copper--the Venus metal--which my body doesn't know what to do with. Like of course it is. Duh, even. Unfortunately this knowledge didn't really lead to a breakthrough. The doctor who figured it out prescribed this giant menu of nutritional supplements I was supposed to take, including a boner pill-sounding compound called Enhancer Adult-1, which is usually used by Alzheimer's patients to reduce heavy metal-related inflammation in the brain (if I'm even remembering that right). I don't remember how well this all worked, since I had an extremely stressful job at the time, and I also couldn't keep up with the extremely expensive and extensive blood tests, and also taking that many supplements at once made me sick. I have never been so directly aware of the fact that nutrition is really best taken in food, not in pill form.

I guess I'm thinking about all this for a confluence of random reasons. One is that I have to have filtered water to avoid taking on extra copper that way, and in my experience home water filters are often slow and unpredictable and I often hit a point in the day where I'm like, oh well, I guess I'm not allowed to drink anymore water. Not like it's the basis of all life or anything. Oh well. Another thing I was just thinking about, while we're packing up to move and throwing things out, is how incredibly susceptible to supplement hype I am, even though I've had bad experiences because of it. I saw some ad on TV the other day, it was on mute and I was trying to guess what it was for; it just showed a woman of a certain age doing a variety of unrelated, pleasurable activities. Finally the product came up and, as far as I could tell, it was a daily pill for your entire recommended fruit intake, and a daily pill for your entire recommended vegetable intake. I thought, God that's so dystopian. Isn't that a trope in dystopian sci-fi, where future people get all their meals from capsules? Is that in "In the Year 2525"? I know this is a thing, I must be able to think of examples. And finally I realized that what I was really remembering was SANTA CLAUS CONQUERS THE MARTIANS, a movie I find so fascinating that I've seen it many times WITHOUT the classic MST3K commentary.

But this just makes me think, maybe I need more Martian energy. Fuck off with this poisonous Venusian crap that's giving me depression and andrenal dysfunction and chronic fatigue and everything. Maybe I got that iron deficiency. Maybe I need to move to the fucking planet of Mars.

[nyuudoupee]

So what are your top headcanons on Keira? Like I know a lot of people give her crap because of what happened in Jak 2 and how ND basically just nerfed her character in J3 only to make her more relevant in Jak X.

Número uno, I WILL return to this eventually because I'm not entirely done yet with the entire JND franchise and everything I am thinking about will probably become more solidified when I finish up 2-X. Número dos, when it comes to the "female character who often gets shafted by the narrative in a playstation game" category of character (kyrie devil may cry 4, kairi kingdom hearts), I will basically go right to their defense no matter what, so chances are I'll stick by Keira's side despite the character nerfing.

That being said, I do have some ideas....

Based on what I've played so far of Jak 2 + all of Jak 1, Keira was probably the most well set for acclimating to a 300+ year timeskip. She's a freakin mechanic and is skilled with her hands, so of course she picks up building as a job once she gets time skipped, and racing as well because that's popular at the time. I have a feeling if time shenanigans permit Keira was also the person who created the original prototype for the zoomers used in JND2 before the timeskip (kind of like how Elsie Bray/the Exo Stranger from Destiny 2 made the sparrow/bike prototypes in that game). She can fix and mod cars and probably is the one who modified Jak's main car in jak X to be a one seater instead of 2. She also has an interest in precursor tech and knows how some of that works, so hypothetically speaking she could pilot a mecha/gundam if she wanted to or incorporate it into her work. If the JND games didn't go the way that they did sequel wise, I think Keira would have definitely become a sage, but probably not the Green sage because she doesn't fall into the traditional "the party healer is a girl" trope (just like her dad) and is more of a technical person. My brain says blue eco.

Character dynamics wise... I don't know yet, but Keira might've been entirely by herself for 2 years out there in Haven working on the time machine zoomer thang alongside the racing gigs she did (not including the people Krew might've sent to her or Erol showing up to hit on her), which might've worn away at her spunk/made her more solitary by virtue of being by herself but she stays optimistic anyway. I do feel like she would be friends with Tess considering she's kind of "normal" and level headed compared to her old group (jak, dax, samos). Ashelin might intimidate her or awaken her bisexuality I dont make the rules, but also remember that I haven't beaten all the games and don't know if they actually all interact at least once in game. If they don't, that means more stuff for me to write!!!

Keira and Daxter would probably work together willingly, even though Dax annoys her. All I'm saying is if Keira had found out even earlier before the 2 year skip that Jak was being held captive in the palace, she would've inverse The Escapists that shit alongside Dax and try and break Jak out of there. She does know where the maintenance elevators are in the area, so a full blown heist doesn't seem too outlandish. She's still got spunk to her even after 2 years with none of her friends/loved ones around her, so she can banter for longer with Daxter if they got the time. Out of the original Sandover trio, she's the middle ground between Dax and Jak and their mediator. She isn't above duct taping Dax to the wall if anything gets too out of hand though

This part is gonna sound a little self-indulgent, but this is my house . Keira and Jak literally share interests so of course they're gonna be interested in eachother. Honestly I think Keira's the one wearing the pants between them, not because Jak doesn't take the initiative with her, but because he respects her and doesn't see a need to step in/insert himself into what she does. Same goes with Keira, there's mutual respect and they help each other out, but she is more outgoing than Jak is and can set him in the right direction if anything bad happens. She might not entirely understand what happened to Jak during those 2 years he was MIA, but she still tries to make sure he's OK/be a support system for him. Also they're bi4bi I again do not make the rules.

Everyone and their mother doesn't consider The L*st Frontier canon or that it ever happened but it's also where the heaviest redesign Keira has ever had comes from. I think it's actually kinda cute. Maybe the shirt she's wearing is an old shirt of Jak's, considering he was also an avid blue collared shirt wearer. IDK that's also very self indulgent for me LMAO

Last thing, there's no way that after a long time or working with heavy machinery and power tools that Keira isn't at least a little bit muscular. Just toned a liiiiiittle bit. Like she has her tummy and arms out, you can probably see some muscle definition through there, same with her back.

That should be everything... thank you for letting me run my mouth and I hope tumblr lets me post this LOL. Keira art will happen again soon i Swear

[roseofmortality]

to those i may or may not know, and myself: im tired of my own inaction. now is the time to begin asserting my true self physically-- materially-- or i may as well be walking around but actually dead.

as my mom once told some authoritative figure from my elementary school, she didnt want her precious child becoming a zombie from medicine (s)he did not 'need'.

to my mom, who will likely never see this: ive had plenty of doses of 'performing womanhood' and it's making me a zombie, mom. and you didnt want that. i know for certain i do not need it, as you were sure then that i did not need Ritalin for my undiagnosed adhd, except i know me better than anyone else. even you.

to myself: i refuse to leave my twenties behind with nothing to show for it. from what i've seen and read, your thirties are for being stable and finally being comfortable with yourself, as you still enjoy being in your prime somewhat, yet you have wisdom and knowledge that you might have longed for ten years prior (or even ignored outright in some cases).

this... really isnt a coming out post. most of you already know i am a trans man. and if you do not, now you know (and i cant blame you for not reading my about page or carrd, even though i try my best to make it short and sweet).

this is more of a thing for me. instead of putting it in a physical notebook and not looking back, i am putting it here as a declaration and proof of my tipping point. i have had enough.

however, i cant just start creating tension at home by asserting myself. at least not yet. i need a plan-- mostly of things i can do right now to improve my situation.

i must find better work while still somewhat closeted. i need to do this for other reasons, too, but if i got full time employment or even part time somewhere making 12 or more usd an hour, that would be a huge boon so i can save money.

i need to be able to legally drive. i am already working on this with my dad, and i am studying to get my learner's permit. this is actually higher on my priority list than number one, but since this is already in the works, i feel safe enough to look for work elsewhere at the moment.

set up a new email, resume, etc with my real name (fuck saying preferred name, raphael is my name, and you will fucking call me by that name).

i have said this since 2020, but a binder is a must if i intend to apply for jobs using a masculine name. i hope adding this layer of a professional need to it will make me suck it up and pay a good amount for a decent binder (or two).

this is the plan for now. hopefully by the time i start things like hrt down the road, i will have moved out or am in the process of moving out on my own, because my mom does not listen to me. none of my family listens to me except for my older brother.

they're fucking around and they're about to find out. im done with these games. im about to go make my new email right now.

[notmaria1317]

Hidden Occult Challenge

INSPIRED BY THIS CHALLENGE by squeamishsims.tumblr.com

OVERVIEW

As an occult sim, you have never felt in tune with your fellow occult sims. The older you get, the less your surroundings excite you the way that they did when you were small. Everything about the lifestyle you have lived feels off. Are you supposed to feel this way about your family? About your lifestyle? About yourself? You might not know the answers right now, but you need to find out what your reality is outside of the occult lifestyle. Maybe you run away as a teen to blend in with the townies or you are tasked with colonizing them (i suggest this challenge for added gameplay complexity). Either way, you try keeping your occult identity as secret as possible. It shouldn’t be too hard to assimilate into townie culture, should it? Oh, Watcher, I hope I won’t have to wipe the whole planet for my mistakes.

TIPS

Use this spreadsheet to track your skills and what you unlock.

Use this Google Doc to easy view the challenge.

General and skill rules are listed below.

To complete certain aspects of the game, you must reach certain skill levels because you are trying to assimilate to townie culture.

Your sim starts with limited knowledge on how to take care of yourself, learning most of your life skills as a teen.

Tag me so that I can see your sims and cheer you on!!

RULES

Your sim must be an occult sim.

Any sims in your household (if you choose to have multiple occult sims for a colonization storyline) must be in the teenage life stage.

Move into an empty lot and cannot move out until you are a young adult.

You must start with 0 simoleons after buying your plot of land. You can do so by opening the cheats menu with ctrl + shift + c, entering “testingcheats on”, and then money “0”. You will need this money cheat to deduct money from your sim’s bank account in the future.

Your sim must keep their occult nature, well, occult from townies. This could look different for all occults: aliens must wear disguises, vampires cannot drink blood in front of others, and werewolves or mermaids cannot be seen in those forms.

If any townies catch your sim in a state of the occult, make sure that they are dealt with. You can wipe their memories, hold them hostage, or kill them. Be creative :)

Luckily, your sim does not need to be hidden around townies all the time. When your sim reaches good friends status with a townie, your sim can choose to show them your true nature. Close friends will accept you no matter who you are. However, if you and that townie are no longer good friends, then refer back to rule 5. 

If your sim loves to travel, you must buy a $100 taxi ride every time you leave your neighborhood. Once you have a bike, you won’t have to ride a taxi in town.

If you leave for another town, you must be a $200 bus pass until you have a full-time job (the assumption is that you own a car with a full-time job or you can have someone from work carpool with you.

You start your new life with the same outfit for every outfit with minimal changes (e.g. no shoes on for the swimming outfit). If you want a new outfit, you must buy your outfits on Trendi or at the ThriftTea. If you do not have High School Years, then pay $200 per new outfit.

Keep Simple Living Turned on.

You will be living off-the-grid until you pay to turn on utilities. Turning on utilities will cost your sim $200. You will need utilities turned on to start building.

For every lot trait you add, you must add a lot challenge. If you already have lot challenges from earlier, they do not count towards this.

The only furniture allowed on your lot is outside furniture, portable furniture, and anything you build! Anything from Outdoor Retreat will be extremely useful! Any other kind of furniture can be purchased or fabricated once you build your home.

Before you can build your home, you have to buy a building permit for $750 and utilities turned on. Your initial micro home must be 32 tiles or less. If you have Tiny Living, then change your lot into a tiny home residential. If you want to upgrade the space, you must pay for each upgrade: $1,000 for a tiny home (64 tiles), $1,500 for a small home (100 tiles), and $2,000 for anything bigger than 100 tiles.

To own pets or animals, your sim must have built a home and built a fence for their enclosure. 

To sell items, your sim can vaporize them with their phones. 

Before you reach the necessary levels to go to high school, you can drop out of high school, use a mod, or remove the “go to school” interaction every day. If you have High School Years, your sim will drop out of school by interacting with the principal or by skipping class enough that you fail out of high school. If you drop out, then you will be unable to return to high school and will need to get a degree online as an adult.

Skill-based Rules

To interact with other townies, you must earn Charisma Level 3. This includes buying and selling from stalls.

To interact with other occult sims that aren’t your own, you must reach Charisma Level 5. Learning the townie language is hard enough, but each occult has its own language and set of social norms that need to be learned.

To be romantic with any sim, your sim must reach Charisma Level 6.

To get engaged and married, your sim must reach Charisma Level 8.

To have any kind of job, your sim must reach Charisma Level 4. At this point, they know enough of townie culture and language to work at a job.

In addition to buying a building permit, your sim needs to build their home. To do so, your sim must reach Handiness level 3 and Logic level 3.

Before changing your home from a tiny home residential to a normal residential, your sim must reach Handiness level 6 and Logic level 6. Building a tiny home requires similar but distinct skills from building a normal, neighborhood home.

Your sim cannot go to high school as a teen until they reach Research & Debate Level 3, Charisma Level 3, and Writing Level 3. These are all the basic set of skills needed to be in high school. You cannot join an after school activity. 

If your sim wants to go to University, they will need Research & Debate Level 5, Logic Level 5, and Charisma Level 5 as well as earning an A in high school. 

You cannot change the color of the furniture you purchase until you reach Painting Level 3.

When you reach Painting Level 5, you can start working on any other creative skill (e.g., photography)

Out of fear of giving other sims food poisoning, other sims cannot eat meals you make until you reach Cooking Level 5.

OCCULT Rules

Depending on the occult that you choose, you must use the trait, start with the perk, and follow the rule for your occult sim

Alien

Trait: Maker

Perk: Start with Logic Level 2

Rule: Only allowed to purchase the furniture that you cannot fabricate.

Werewolf

Trait: Glutton

Benefit: Start with Fitness Level 2

Rule: Not allowed to eat produce (i.e. fruit, vegetables, and herbs)

Vampire

Trait: Gloomy

Perk: Start with Acting Level 2 

Rule: Hold hostage anyone that you drink from then and kill them after a week after you kidnapped them.

Spellcaster

Trait: Hot Headed

Perk: Start with Herbalism Level 2 

Rule: You can either make potions or do spells. NOT BOTH

Mermaid

Trait: Vegetarian

Perk: Start with Singing Level 2

Rule: Not allowed to fish or raise insects (i.e. bees and the critter box from Eco Living)

Plantsim

Trait: Loves the Outdoors

Perk: Start with Gardening Level 2

Rule: Not allowed to be outside when it is cold.