#please dear god when will this hellhole end

[idlecommotiony]

My god, is this it?

It doesn’t get better now does it?

[theladyofdeath]

The Manly Man {Manorian}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 12.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “Haunted House - staged (Manorian - Dorian is the terrified one)”

Warning: Gore. 

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

Manon was practically bouncing where she stood.

There were very few things she loved more than being thrilled, and as Halloween was quickly approaching, she found a no better way to spend her Friday night than to take her boyfriend to a haunted house.

She used to work at one, in high school. She was the zombie-surgeon that picked at the intestines of whomever was lying on her table. It had been fun, thrilling. People would come through her room, scream bloody murder, and Manon would applaud herself for her performance every time. 

Yes, she loved haunted houses.

Dorian didn’t look so sure.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he looked at the front door up ahead. There was creepy music playing, and lights flashing, and Dorian looked like he was nearly ready to vomit. 

“How you doin’, babe?” Manon asked, eyes narrowed as his throat bobbed. 

“Huh? Oh, good,” he said, nodding a little too quickly. “Yeah, no, I’m good. How are you?”

“Great,” she answered, chuckling. 

They took another step forward in line. 

“So, I want to be clear before we go in there,” Dorian began, clearing his throat. 

Manon chuckled. “Yeah?” 

“I’m a manly man, and I want that to be noted,” Dorian began.

Manon nudged him. “I think we’ve been together long enough that I know exactly how manly you are.”

He proved it, nightly, again and again, just how manly he was. 

“Right,” he continued. “So...when we go in here...just...remember that.” 

“You’re scared,” Manon crooned, slipping her fingers through his. “I didn’t think you were the type to get scared.”

The couple had spent every holiday together in the last year, except for Halloween. They’d started dating just before last Thanksgiving, and every holiday had been absolutely perfect. Now, as they fell deeper and deeper in love, the spookiest season was upon them.

And Dorian was not a fan. 

He never understood the appeal of being scared, never understood how peeing your pants was considered a good time, and yet, here he was.

At one of the scariest haunted houses in the city, taking another step forward in line. 

“I’m not scared,” Dorian replied, at last, shaking his head. “I don’t get scared.” 

“You don’t get scared?” Manon asked. “Because it looks like you’d rather be anywhere but here. You know, if you don’t want to go through the haunted house, we can-.”

“No, no,” Dorian protested, quickly. “I don’t… I’d like to go through, yeah. It looks…fun.”

A series of earth-shattering screams echoed from inside the house. 

Manon squeezed his hand as they took another step forward. They were almost near the front of the line, and the energy had Dorian’s hands trembling.

The one that wasn’t squeezing Manon’s, anyway. 

Once they were next in line, Dorian was about ready to puke.

He hated being scared.

Hated it.

Loathed it.

They entered the building. 

The hallway was dark, although flashing lights were going off against the walls. Dorian’s feet had suddenly become heavier, causing him to move slower. 

So, incredibly slow.

“We’re going to hold up the line,” Manon said, dragging him along. 

“I can’t take my time in this hellhole?” he asked, looking around with every step he took.

“With how terrified you look, I figured you’d wanna get through it as quickly as possible,” she said, quickly, with a sly look on her thin lips. 

He shot her an exasperated look. “Be happy that I love you.” 

Her grin only widened.

They continued down the hall, the sound system throwing out loud, terrifying shrieks and rolls of thunder. The lights were blinking. Dorian had always hated strobe lights, had always found them annoying.

In clubs.

In haunted houses.

Strobe lights sucked.

But then the lights went out entirely. And with a quiet click, one lone light came on behind them. Dorian turned around and looked back to where they’d entered, only to find a solid wall there.

“Fuck,” he whispered and Manon squeezed his hand, which she chuckled softly. He turned back to look down the hallway and they moved forward, towards the corner that seemed to get darker and darker with every step they took.

“You want me to go first?” Manon asked, smirking over at him.

“No, I will,” he said, picking up the pace. At least he tried to.

As he got closer and closer to the corner, unable to see a thing around the edge, he remembered that Manon probably knew what was around the bend. Whether from experience of going through it herself or just a knowledge of what haunted houses usually were, she had an idea. He was both literally and figuratively in the dark.

And he hated every second of it.

Once Dorian came around the corner, clinging to Manon’s hand for dear life, the lights came on the moment they stepped around the wall. A young girl was tied to an electric chair, looking like she was getting electrocuted, blood pouring from her lips, smoke filling the room.

Dorian tried not to jump, but failed.

Manon scoffed, quietly. “Amateurs.” 

“Yeah,” Dorian tried to agree, but his voice cracked, and he was quickly pulling Manon into the next room.

Which was so much worse than the first.

The temperature hit him the moment they walked through the door. Dorian’s foot slipped on something slightly and looked down and gasped as he saw a puddle of blood leaking from a dismembered leg. Manon’s hand was an anchor in his and her other hand gripped his forearm. The frigid temperature unsettled him and as she looked around at the body parts hanging from the ceiling, Dorian really thought he might be sick.

“Come on,” Manon said, gently, pulling him through the room.

He really wanted to look down, to let her pull him through, but his eyes couldn’t look away from everything around him. When they ended up at a large metal table, a man holding a large meat cleaver was slowly sectioning meat off of a bone. He seemed to be focused on his task and just as they were about to pass by, his other first slammed against the table and he held the blade out towards Manon, as he laughed maniacally.

She didn’t even flinch, but Dorian wasn’t proud of the noise that left him. He pulled her toward the door on the far side of the room and tried to move as quickly as he could.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered.

They went through an entry way that led them outside, although the area seemed to be fenced in, which Dorian automatically wasn’t a fan of. It was set up like a trailer park, and there were tall trees surrounding a beat-up trailer. There was a series of coffins scattered across the lawn, and Dorian was scared to move.

“Do you hear banjo music?” Manon whispered.

“Shhh!” Dorian begged, careful for every creeping sound. 

“Come on, there’s a door on the opposite end of the wall we go through,” Manon said, pulling Dorian along.

After a second, Dorian became more comfortable. “Well, this doesn’t seem so ba-.” The world's most unsettling scream flew out of Dorian’s lips as the door to the trailer was thrown open and a man with a chainsaw appeared. He was revving it, and hurrying down the trailer stairs.

Dorian’s screams continued as he hauled ass along the wall of the haunted house until he appeared at the door on the opposite end and flung himself inside.

At some point, he had dropped Manon’s hand.

She appeared a moment later, though, in the doorway, grinning uncontrollably.

Dorian’s hand flew to his chest as he huffed and puffed. “I- my heart has legit never beat as quickly as it’s beating right now.”

Manon couldn’t stop her smile as she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him. “You okay?”

He rested his forehead against hers and said, “Please don’t ever ask me to do this again.”

She laughed and leaned up and kissed him. “Come on, scaredy pants.”

Dorian realized he was hearing faint music from down the hall, leading to the next room. They walked closer and it became more and more defined and he slowed down. “Nuhuh. Nope.” He stopped moving. “There’s a fucking clown in there, isn’t there?”

“It’s a haunted house, babe,” she said, dragging him forward. “Of course there’s a clown. There’s a mirror maze, too.”

“Oh, great, so I can’t get lost and it can murder me,” he muttered. “Great.”

“I know the quickest path,” she said, with a comforting squeeze of his hand. “We’ll be through it in no time.”

The walked through the heavy, tattered, velvet curtain and it was worse than Dorian could have ever imagined.

Not only was there a mirror maze, but there were clown paintings, statues, constant laughter from everywhere, disorienting him.

“You better be happy I love you,” he said, terrified to even look at Manon and give someone a chance to jump him.

She just shook her head as she led him through the maze, and with every turn they took, Dorian became more and more convinced that this is the way that he would die. 

And when the clown jumped out from behind a corner and Dorian saw it’s bloody grin in the reflection of the mirror he stood in front of, he was pretty sure he peed his pants, just a little bit.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” he yelled.

Manon’s laughter reverberated throughout the room as she pulled Dorian just a little bit quicker through the maze. 

“The clown has a fucking sledgehammer!” Dorian continued. “My gods, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to-.”

Manon pulled them out of the maze and instantly into the next room, which once again had Dorian growing queasy. 

Now, he loved Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It was a classic, a beautiful work of literature. 

What he was looking at now, however, was ruining the classic for him, forever.

A mad scientist was laughing, horridly, as he stood above his table, looking down at his monster. There were body parts in jars, ancient, rusty tools everywhere, and eyeballs scattered along the table.

“Please tell me we’re almost out of here,” Dorian muttered.

She rolled her eyes, but squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture and tugged him through the tamest and shortest room yet. When they walked through the door, his senses on red alert, he was surprised to see they were once again outside and the only thing aside from the back half of the creepy house was a corn maze wrapping back around to the front.

“Oh, sweet Mala, thank the gods,” he said, bending over, resting his hands on his knees and gulping down air. “Never again,” he said, repeating his earlier promise. Manon laughed and when he stood upright again, he took her hand and they walked into the corn maze.

It was a chilly night, but that was fine with him. He’d gotten so hot inside that stupid haunted house that the bite in the air was absolutely welcomed. Not to mention, the sky was gorgeous tonight, stars everywhere, not a cloud in sight.

Manon was in the middle of a story about one of her clients earlier that day when Dorian held up a finger and stopped walking. “Do you hear that?”

He wished he hadn’t seen the smile on Manon’s face when she innocently asked, “Hear what?”

He felt the color drain from his face. “I thought it was over, you said it was over. We’re outside!”

Manon kept walking forward, letting her hand stay on the right wall. “I never said anything. You just assumed. Come on.”

She held out her hand and he quickly took it as the sound of a revving chainsaw grew closer and closer.

“Fuck no!” he yelled, and picked up his pace. He didn’t make it far before a bloodied-up zombie jumped out of the corn stalks, making Dorian scream, yet again. 

Manon was laughing maniacally, which only terrified Dorian even more. 

“If you love me, you’ll get me the fuck out- is that chainsaw getting louder?” Dorian knew he sounded like a complete and utter sissy, but he really didn’t care. 

His heart was nearly pounding out of his chest, and his need to pee was unbearable. 

“We’re almost out,” Manon yelled, dodging her way around a ghostly bride that had just popped out at her. “Hang in there, babe.”

“How the hell are you so calm?!” he yelled, thinking his feet couldn’t move fast enough.

The roaring behind him grew and he turned to find the masked man from before running at them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, run!” He cried, pulling Manon’s hand harder as he ran.

She kept laughing as they ran through the maze, Dorian’s breathing becoming heavier and heavier.

He could hear the heavy footsteps pounding right behind them and Manon pulled him around a corner and-.

They were out in the fresh air and there were other people dressed in flannel and jeans and the sound of laughter and excitement.

Dorian groaned as they stopped and he realized that this time it really was over.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he breathed and Manon wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Not that bad, right?” She asked, smirking up at him.

Dorian was still breathing heavily, trying desperately to catch his breath. With a groan, he dropped his face into her shoulder and said, “I'm serious. Be glad that I love you.”

Manon just threw her head back and laughed as she patted her boyfriend’s head and walked him to the safety of her car. 

[rextasywrites]

Grab a bite (Lady Dimitrescu x f!Reader)

Hello! This is my first smut fic here on Tumblr. Please enjoy, I tried my very best <3 mostly smut with a hint of plot, maybe i can expand this idea??? have fun!

Warning: period blood kink! smut! don’t like don’t read please!

Find this fic on AO3

 The days in the castle hadn’t been pleasant to you...to say it in a mild way. The three vampire chicks had thrown you into the basement, up to rot along your mates. The first one to go was Mike. He had suffered from a cold before you headed into the mysterious village, and his cold soon turned into pneumonia. There wasn’t anything you could do for him apart from making sure he was as comfortable as he could be.

 The next one to go was Jasmin. In the cells you three (and a corpse) shared were quite a few rusty nails and she had the misfortune of stepping on one. Sepsis took her in less than 24 hours.

 Just a few hours ago, it was James who perished. The food given to you by the vampires was barely edible.. for humans. While you suffered from stomach aches quite a lot, James had a bigger problem. His food allergies were through the roof, and a simple dish with some nuts in it was his last meal on death row. You tried to make a tracheotomy, you really did.

 The vampires kept you in the cage for just a little bit longer. The bodies were taken away by them, but you had no chance of escaping. As you laid on the uncomfortable bed that kind of resembled a murphy bed, your mind went to everything you had left behind. Your family, your friends. All of this for a stupid job and “exploring Romania”. Fuck this shit. Were they looking for you? Were they missing you?

 Your stomach churned at all the anxieties creeping up your throat, making you choke back whatever was trying to come back up. But that wasn’t the only weird feeling in your stomach. While you didn’t know how long you had actually been in this hellhole, you knew your birth control ran out several days ago, and now your body was keen on getting its hormone household back into place.

 As if your uterus called her, one of the vampire ladies stood in front of the cell you were locked in, licking over her lips. You couldn’t tell if the darkness of her lips was from lipstick or the fact that she was a half dead monster. “Lady Dimitrescu awaits you.”, the lady said and unlocked the cage. When you first stood up, you had to press your hand against your stomach, feeling how the cramps were slowly getting worse inside of you. The lady just watched with raised eyebrows - do vampires even get periods?

 She led you through the impressive castle, and you wondered when someone cleaned in here for the last time, spiderwebs and dust were settled on nearly every surface. But boy, if it wasn’t impressive. Bigger than anything you had ever seen in your life. This sentence also was fitting for Lady Dimitrescu, who was sitting on her luxurious bed, covers of satin under her impressive...body.

 “My dear, I knew you would make it alive out of there!”, she gave you her biggest smile, and when she stood up...Jesus, she was taller than anyone you had ever seen, easily reaching 2,5 meters. Absolutely supernatural. But the thing which caught your eyes the most were her huge breasts. They were right at eye height for you, and being killed by massive tits seemed like the most pleasant death in this place. Well, at least better than dying because of a rusty nail.

 Lady Dimitrescu cupped your cheeks, feeling how the past few days had made you visibly lose weight already. “Oh my...if you want to survive the ritual, we have to nourish you. Daniela, please, get us some of the wine. I wouldn’t want my daughter to starve, would I?”

 Daniela came back with a bottle of the wine Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, pouring it into two glasses before handing you one, the other one to her...mentor? Mother? You didn’t know. Lady Dimitrescu made your two glasses click together and took a sip off the exclusive fluid, smiling as it made its way to her stomach. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. A strong taste of dry wine, but the aftertaste was slightly metallic. “You know you are allowed to speak with me.”, Lady Dimitrescu said as she put her glass on the nightstand, which had looked hilariously small in her hands. “You are part of the family now, dear. There is nothing to hide.”

 “Why me?”, was everything you managed out. Daniela had left the room by now, but that didn’t help to lessen your anxiety.

 Lady Dimitrescu chuckled and took your hand into hers, giving you the gentlest smile a vampire demon whatever the fuck she was could give. “Because you are special. The first moment my daughters spotted you in the village, I knew you’d come here. I knew you’d make it out of there alive. And now, I will prepare you for the ritual.”

 “What kind of ritual?”, the questions were clouding your mind. The last ritual you heard of was from Midsommar, and you had no interest in being burnt alive! As your hands started to shake, Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on them.

 “I will make you one of us. But first, you have to show me you can handle this life. That you can handle…”, she got closer to your ear as she whispered into it, “my needs.” Her needs?

 Lady Dimitrescu took the glass from your hands, putting it next to hers. Once her hands were free she placed them on your shoulders, pushing you down into the satin covers of her bed, and once you hit the sheets, your eyes felt so heavy. “Don’t fall asleep little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu shooed, tapping her long fingers against your skin.

 “We would have started this sooner, but sadly”, Lady Dimitrescu gestured to your pants, “you have used this pill which stopped your period. And I need a good taste of you before we can continue.” What? A good taste?

 “I thought vampires drink blood!”, you bursted out, cupping your mouth once your brain realized what you just said.

 Lady Dimitrescu laughed loudly, giving your thigh a little pat. “Oh, we do, little dove. But I need to taste your innocence.” Your innocence… Her words flew around your brain while her fingers touched your bare skin from the holes in your pants. The bucket of water and the washing cloth might have helped you with feeling filthy, but it didn’t help with any ripped clothes. “It won’t hurt, I promise you. And once you have passed this test, you will be one of us in no time.”

 “...Okay?”

 “Good to hear that you agree with me, little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu smiled, and her next move shook you to the bone. Out of the fingers of her right hand came claws, something straight out of a Wolverine movie! You froze in shock as she came closer, but instead of hurting you, all she did was slowly ripping the fabric of your clothes - or better said, what was left of them. She hummed at the sight under her, while your face became hotter and hotter. “Do not worry, dove. You will get new costumes when I am done with you. We will burn this trash you called clothes. Cheap trash.”

 Soon you were left in your undergarments, Lady Dimitrescu eyeing you up and down as if you were a piece of meat, ready for the predator to rip into its prey. And it wasn’t that wrong of a thought. In the end, you were at her mercy, but slowly her soft touch made you feel warm on the inside, spreading from your stomach, reaching all the way to your fingers and toes, a warmth you hadn’t felt in days. Was it the wine? Or was it something else?

 Lady Dimitrescu smelt old. But not an unpleasant old smelt, not this smell from nursing homes, where the rotten flesh melted into the seats of the wheelchairs. The smell of old books and knowledge, aged like the fine wine she had just given you.

 As your mind was clouded, Lady Dimitrescu continued to undress you. Your period had started by now, and a single drop of your blood fell on the satin covers under your ass. She chuckled, dipping her finger into the blood, licking it clean. “Have you ever laid with a man before, my dove?”, Lady Dimitrescu asked, to which you were ripped out of your thoughts, your reply a simple nod. You didn’t trust your voice anymore. “That’s good. You are pure. You are innocent. Just perfect for my daughters and me. Oh little dove, we are going to have so much fun together!”, Lady Dimitrescu laughed as she clapped her hands together, giving you her widest smile - and for a moment you could spot her fangs. What a weird turn on all of this was.

 Once her finger was clean, a hunger formed inside of her. Your blood...it tasted so good, so fresh, so healthy. Unlike anything she had eaten in the past 500 years - and she fucking wanted more. “Come here, little dove. Spread your legs for the Lady.”, she said as she grabbed hold of your hips, pulling your middle closer. The claws on her right hand had gone back into her skin, and at this point, you didn’t even want to ask why. At this point, all you needed was her.

 Lady Dimitrescu settled between your legs, “Let’s make this a pleasant experience for the both of us, shall we?”, she smiled as she pulled down her dress, exposing her big breasts. “I noticed your stares.”, and by the gods, they were everything you ever wanted and needed. Big, her dress had held them up, it must have been painful to her. They were saggy, but who didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits? You reached upward, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh as she chuckled. Lady Dimitrescu placed her hand on yours, letting you feel her up as you desired.

 “Come on, little dove”, she smiled after some groping from your side. She couldn’t deny, your eager massages on her breasts had left her wet and ready, but she had to prepare you. Maybe once she managed to spill a sweet orgasm from your lips, maybe then she would engage in some self centered pleasure. But right now, you were her main focus.

 Her fingers dipped a finger between your folds, scooping up your wetness mixed with blood. Lady Dimitrescu hummed in delight as she sucked her fingers clean, happiness clearly evident as she savoured the taste on her tongue. “You want to try it too?”, you shook your head in response, to which she laughed, “Oh, you will appreciate blood soon enough, little dove!”

 You couldn’t gasp when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your hips, pulling you up against her mouth. With your legs wrapped around her shoulders, she had your pussy right in her face, taking in the sweet smell of your arousal and the metallic undertone of blood. Just how she liked it. Just how she imagined it. “Oh, having to wait for you for so many days was terrible, little dove. But now, you are mine.”, she whispered as she dove her head between your thighs, taking in more and more of you. The moment her tongue hit your folds, a loud gasp escaped your throat, surely the vampires outside of the room would hear you. Lady Dimitrescu just chuckled against your wetness, flicking her tongue over your clit as the sweet taste of your wetness spread all across her mouth.

 Her tongue was in the same proportion as her body, longer and thicker than anything you had ever seen before - or felt before. She slurped up whatever fluid she could reach, humming in delight whenever blood found its way into her mouth. The blood of a healthy and innocent virgin had been her favourite kind for so long, so hard to come by and the resulting fullness lasting for even longer. Maybe she wouldn’t turn you and keep you as her little to-go human. But where would be the fun in that?

 As much as you wished she’d use her fingers too, it was like Lady Dimitrescu was reading your mind. “No penetration for you, little dove. You need to stay pure, untouched.”, but eating your pussy out was fine? Well, you had to play by her rules, not yours. You relaxed further in her grip as Lady Dimitrescu refreshed herself on you, feeling hundreds of years younger.

 Your orgasm came crashing down on you, unexpected but with a force you had never felt before. While you groaned and trashed under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, she kept her lips on your pussy, taking in all the juices she could get her mouth on, the hint of blood making her moan in delight.

 The next thing you know is that the pain in your abdomen had stopped and Lady Dimitrescu had put clothes on your. You rubbed your eyes, blinking as you made sense of what had happened while you were out. The clothes on your body were dark and silky, just like the dress of Daniela before. The hunger inside of you was burning your stomach down, but it wasn’t just a simple hunger.

 You were lusting for blood. Well, time to find Lady Dimitrescu and tell her about the little changes in your body...

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say  a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 

**

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 

When I came up, he was watching me. 

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​

[sips-tea-cutely]

hai! could i get some hcs where tenko is jealous of angie because shes dating himiko and then they all end up dating?? im all up for jealousy hcs.

Tenko being jealous of YonaMeno

note: this looks shittier after writing it four hours ago

time stamp: the formation of the student council

#Angie Yonaga, Himiko Yumeno, & Tenko Chabashira

you could say tenko was mad. but you’d be wrong, she’s fucking furious. “himiko, dear! it’s time to pray to atua.” she giggled. “nyeh.. alright, then.” himiko lazily walked into angie’s lab. she’d love to break in, take himiko, and get out of this hellhole, but unfortunately, she can’t. angie’s lab was locked.

well, as her master said, you need to channel all of your energy into neo-aikido. so tenko angrily stomped into her dojo to train until someone like kaito would call her.

“tenko!! could you meet himiko and i in my lab?” angie clasped her hands together. “well, i guess if it’s himiko then let’s go!” tenko got into her fighting stance. “nyahaahaha! how divine! i will ask for some others too. i will see you there, or else atua will punish you for three lifetimes.” angie showed an oddly scary glare for someone like her. “bye-onara, now!”

so tenko started walking to the ultimate artist’s lab, slightly scared. and once she entered, she saw tsumugi and himiko. “tenko!” tsumugi exclaimed. “nyeh? did angie call you too?” tenko nodded. “ah! tenko, tsumugi, angie called you too?” kiibo walked through the door beside angie. “nyahaha! how divine, everyone followed atua’s orders.” angie smiled.

“so, angie, what did you want to tell us?” tsumugi held her elbows. “it isn’t safe to be out this late, someone might kill one of us.” she shuddered at the thought. “i think that it’s safe here, there will be at least three witnesses, not to mention tenko is here. her aikido is… very violent.” kiibo answered.

“atua has spoken to angie! atua says there should be a student council to stop the killing game!” angie announced. “b-but that’s impossible! monokuma will just find a way to force us to start the killing again! after we tried to follow kaede, monokuma placed a time limit.” tenko fought. “but isn’t it better to die together? it’s better to believe in each other and stop the killing than to kill each other. at least that’s what atua says!”

“nyeh, tenko, why are you fighting with atua? it’s impossible to win against someone like atua..” himiko murmured. “although, i agree with tenko… angie does have a point. it is better that we die together with trust in each other rather than betrayal.” kiibo agreed. “i mean.. i don’t want to die but yeah! i agree with angie.” tsumugi bravely smiled.

“…fine.” tenko winced as she spoke. “nyahahahaha! how divine! now, everyone please give a blood sacrifice to my island!” angie said. “no! my pain tolerance is really low.” tenko tried backing away. “aw, c’mon, tenko. it won’t hurt, just a drop.” angie pulled out a small needle. she pricked tenko’s thumb with the tip. “congratulations, tenko! you are now part of the student council.” angie put the droplets of blood into a tiny container with a small amount of blood filled already. she pulled tenko into a warm embrace. “h-huh? hey!” tenko wanted to, but she couldn’t resist. angie’s hug reminded her of when her mother used to coddle her.

“atua is a gentle mother, always watching over you.” tsumugi raised her arm to ask a question. “excuse me, angie, i thought you said atua was a handsome god?” “angie’s god changes his form depending on who’s looking.” himiko answered.

“oh, alright! then i’m ready to give a sacrifice!” she smiled. “yes! i, as well, am ready to... um-“ kiibo stopped. “angie... i just remembered i don’t actually have any blood in me.” kiibo winced at the reminder that he’s a robot.

“that’s fine, kiibo. could i have some of your hair? atua accepts hair as a sacrifice too.” angie let go of tenko and grabbed the scissors on her studio desk. “i suppose that is fine. please don’t cut my antenna, though! it is very important.” kiibo’s fingers went to his ahoge to protect it. “alright then!” she got a snippet of kiibo’s synthetic hair and put it into the container containing tenko’s and an anonymous person’s blood, the blood soaking into the silky grey strands, dying it red.

“perfect! now, tsumugi, it’s your turn.” angie once more grabbed tsumugi’s index finger and pricked it. tsumugi squirmed slightly while angie carried the tiny container. “nyahahaha! now everyone is apart of the student council!” angie smiled.

“what about himiko?” kiibo looked at the red-head. “ah, himiko has already given a sacrifice to atua!” ah, so that was the anonymous blood. tenko’s face was filled with doubt. could angie seriously stop this killing game? “tenko, what’s wrong? you look guilty, are you doubting atua?” angie looked at the greenette with a curious face.

“n-no! i’m just thinking about how we’ll end this killing game.” she lied. “i see, i see! how smart of you, tenko. hmm, atua says we should make everyone stay in their dorms at nighttime, kirumi’s crime happened at night after all!” himiko rubbed her eyes, trying to stay awake. “nyeh.. if it’s what atua says, then i guess i agree.”

“nyahaha! how thoughtful of you to agree with atua, himiko!” she patted her dear on the tip of her hat. himiko giggled. “what’s wrong, tenko? you seem upset about something.” kiibo approached the feminist carefully. “yeah.. it’s just- nevermind, you don’t need to know.” tenko brushed it off. “oh, i know! you’re in love with himiko! it’s just like when erina was jealous when alice stole all of soma’s attention in- nevermind, sorry, i let my hobby get in again.” tsumugi laughed.

“that’s- how did you know that?! are you psychic?!!” tenko’s face morphed into fear. “i was correct? wow, i was just throwing things out there.. wait- you have a crush on himiko??” tsumugi stopped in her tracks. “ah, i see. you’re jealous of angie because she is dating himiko.” kiibo thought out loud.

“n-nyeh?! you have a crush on me?” himiko blushed. “himiko! it’s not what you think!” tenko covered her flustered face. “aha! this reminds me of when- sorry..” tsumugi interrupted.

“ah, i see! no wonder you’re acting so weird, you have a crush on himiko! you knowww, himiko has two hands!” angie smiled. “i think it’s better if we leave them be for now.” kiibo whispered to tsumugi. “oh.. i really wanted to see this, though.” tsumugi frowned.

“two hands? what’re you saying angie?” tenko’s face wrinkled in confusion. “on my island, it’s fine for a man to have six wives, and it’s fine for women to date women. we could all date! atua gives us his blessing.” angie put her hands in a praying position.

“...a polyamorous relationship?” tenko raised an eyebrow. “yes, yes! a polyamorous relationship!” angie smiled. “nyeh, if atua gives his blessing, then we can date, tenko.” himiko smiled as well. “...” tenko could slightly tear up. “himiko... that sounds like your just accepting me because of this ‘atua’ god! i want you to date me because you love me!” tenko cried.

“nyeh? tenko..” himiko looked at the ground, feeling slightly guilty. she walked up to tenko and hugged her. “i-i’m sorry if it sounded like i was just agreeing with angie because of atua. i promise i’m not lying, you could ask my mommy.” himiko’s voice lightened at that last part. that small thing was able to make tenko go from sad to roaring with laughter. “i forgive you himiko! i love you, and i love angie too!” tenko smiled and hugged himiko on the birch floor.

“atua says that he will protect you tenko, with all his might!” angie joined in on the hug. the three now laughing. “nyeh.. i’m sleepy.” himiko yawned. “c’mon, c’mon! angie will bring you to your dorm, himiko!” angie started carrying the tiny red-head. “or you two could sleep in my dorm! i’ll protect the both of you from any degenerate that tries to go after you!” tenko exclaimed.

“how divine! very well then, himiko and i shall sleep in your dorm tenko.” angie started closing her studio. tenko pulled angie’s free hand and speed ran to her dorm.

she unlocked the door and opened the lights. “alright, you guys should change into pajamas. you could borrow mine for now! i have this one with unicorns that’ll be perfect for you, himiko!”

tenko walked over to her wardrobe and grabbed said pajamas, and a turquoise nightdress for angie. “it’s so pretty! thank you, tenko.” angie smiled with glee. once the greenette had changed and took off her bow, she turned off the lights and tackled her two new girlfriends onto the bed.

himiko, in the middle, had already been dozing off. angie, at the left, was rubbing himiko’s cheek and holding tenko’s hand. and tenko, she was smiling like an idiot in love. if this was a dream, she’d never want to wake up.

as her consciousness was fading away into the dreamworld, she said, “hey, himiko, i hope you’re dreaming of angie and i. i love you the two of you more than words could describe.”

[dowoonie-namjoonie]

Not Fine (SungjinxReader)

Paring: Mafia!Sungjin x Reader

A/N: This is all just for fun, I do not own any of the gifs I use, and please enjoy! This kinda sucks, but like honestly I wanted to get something out. 

Warning: Mafia type scenarios, gore, minor language, and yandere themes. 

All of this started three years ago when you met him. Park Sungjin, the man of your dreams and nightmares, but you didn't know that last part yet. Everything about him was like a fantasy, something out of a drama or storybook You'd met Sungjin at a club in the city, your friend had dragged you down with her, although you wanted nothing to but to stay home and eat shit loads of ice cream. Honestly, you hated clubs. You weren't a fan of the strobe lights, loud music, or even busty crowds. Your friend did what you predicted she would do, she found a hot guy and stayed with him the whole night. 

Rerendering you completely alone to drink at the bar. 

That's when Sungjin had made his way over to you. He offered to buy you a drink, and typically you would say no, but something was different about Sungjin than the typical guy who just wanted to get in your pants. No, he was different. Instantly, he pulled you into his charm with his visuals alone. Sungjin is a very good-looking guy, you had to give him that. Then, he pulled you in with how much of a gentleman he is, talking you up the whole night making sure you weren't lonely. After all, that's why he was intrigued by you because you were alone. 

Long story short, you ended up going home with him that night. Hooking up with the guy you just meant, another reason why you liked him, he knew how to treat you in bed. Usually, one-night stands don't go anywhere else, but what you did with Sungjin was not a one-night stand. God, even being him with one night was enough to get hooked on him, he was like a drug you couldn't quit. For the next three years, you'd be with him, both of you began dating. 

Another attractive trait about Sungjin was that he had money, but he never told you his job. At first, it didn't bug you, maybe he just forgot to mention it. Then, it got weird. Sungjin, throughout your relationship, was always protective of you. After four months of dating each other, he convinced you to move into his well-kempt house. You obliged, of course, you lived in a studio apartment since that's all your waiting job could afford. Well, anyway, his house was big not a mansion big but big enough to have at least five bedrooms. In the beginning of living there, you loved every minute of it. You would go to bed each night with the man you loved laying next to you, in the morning you would relax, eat, watch tv, or go on your phone to play games or text your friend. Eventually, you'd go to work at the hellhole you called a diner. 

Sungjin was good to you, every morning he'd make you this nice breakfast, talk you up, make sure you had everything you wanted. Nice clothes, a new phone, etc. He spoiled you, but with a rule. You couldn't leave the house or talk to anyone. You realized it slowly, Sungjin would always find an excuse to make sure you stayed in the house, one time your tires were popped forcing you to stay in. Then, suddenly, the cell line went out and so did the internet at his house. He'd said he would get a guy to come out and fix it, but a year went by after that empty promise. Somehow, just somehow, he convinced you to leave your job because he could provide for you. 

That's when you began to question Sungjin, you loved this man you didn't want to believe he was crazy in keeping you. But facts are facts, he was possessive and unnecessarily scared of you getting hurt. One day, you got so fed up with this bullshit, you wanted to go see your friends, even go to your job which seemed like a paradise to the hell you lived in. You asked him the question you needed answered the most, just what was Sungjin's job? 

The answer you got, after years of dating him, made your heart drop. Mafia, he told you he was a mafia boss for Day6, the most feared, ruthless, violent mafia in the whole world. It explained so much though, his money, the reason he was scared to let you go was that he was afraid you would get hurt by his enemies or the fact he made you drop everything for him. 

Three years later, while he was out on a business trip, you planned your great escape. A small, duffle bag housed your belongings. You didn't want to take everything you had because you didn't want to be reminded of the man you were running away from. You loved Sungjin, but his job and his obsessiveness made you want to leave him, you were depressed. Following the big reveal that he's in the mafia, he officially assigned his men to watch you when he couldn't. Twenty-four-seven they watched you, and if you tried to leave the house they would call Sungjin. Then you really got an earful. 

Perfectly, you studied each of the men who patrolled the house, studying their patterns of movement, and different shifts they had. You knew the perfect time to run away was 10:24 p.m because the men guarding the back door into the woods were eating dinner. 

Carefully, you made your escape, executing your plan flawlessly. That was two months ago that you successfully escaped from your boyfriend's hands. You ran away to a remote town, a place where you were sure Sungjin would never find you. You even got a remote job, this time not as a waitress, but as a secretary for a company. The job was easy mainly you answered phones and booked meetings, occasionally checking people in. Overall it was an easy job, you even had a nice two-bedroom apartment shared with your friend, Irene. Ignoring her for three years made her confused and hateful of you, but after you told her the whole story she gladly wanted to help you escape from Sungjin. You were so lucky for her. 

Life was going good for you, so you thought, Sungjin was out of your life and was now just an echo in your heart. 

Doing your normal routine, you found yourself at work again, this time late at night working overtime. Normally, no one called past seven, but your boss had informed you that a new client would be calling later on in the night. You were forced to stay, but honestly, you didn't mind all you needed was to help plan a meeting, and then you could go home and sleep. 

The building was almost empty when the client called, the ringtone so loud in the silence that it made you jump. Finally, though, they called! 

"Hello, thank you for calling the PurpleHeart Foundation, how may I help you," you spoke, a line for line in what you were taught to say.

Silence, pure silence is all you heard on the other line, so you spoke up again. 

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" 

"Y/N...," a broken voice spoke up, taking you back at the sudden change on the other line.  "Dear god! Y/N! Help me!" 

You recognized that voice anywhere, "Irene? Is that you?" 

"Y/N, Y/N," she chanted, her voice in a sob. She sounded like she was in pain, struggling to get words out. "Call the police-Call someone, just don't come home-FUCK!" 

Your heart dropped, nausea bubbling in your stomach as you heard a loud crash from the other line followed by her high-pitched 

screams. 

"Irene," you urgently began, keeping the phone up to your ear but packing your work bag in the process. "What's going on?" 

You were thinking the worst, that someone broke into your house or a basic crime was, unfortunately, happening to the both of you. Life 

just wasn't that simple for you. 

"Y/N," another voice, a man's voice, called your name calmly. 

You froze on the spot, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. That voice that used to comfort you, make you happy, whisper into 

your ear seductively, and make you miserable.  

You gulped audibly, terror flowing through you. You were in shock, he found you, he actually found you, after you were so careful! 

"Sungjin." 

"If you want your friend to live, I suggest you come here right now."

"Sungjin, if you hurt her," you panicky tried to get through to him. "I swear to god-" 

Then the line went dead. 

"Son of a bitch," you spoke out loud. 

Slamming the office phone down, you slung your bag over your shoulder, running out the door and hastily to your apartment complex that wasn't too far away. Hopefully, he wouldn't do 

anything to Irene as long as you hurried up. 

Jogging up the stairs to your specific apartment, the door was slightly ajar. This was the moment, after two months and no warning of leaving him, you were going to see Sungjin yet again. Carefully, you opened the door instantly your focus went to Irene who sat right in front of the door, purposely for you to see. 

"Irene," you yelled, falling to her aid completely disregarding your bag in the process. "Oh my god, I'm sorry," you cried out. She was bloody from the wound on her head, legs and arms tied up too, she looked barely conscious not responding to you either. She had been 

hit in the head one too many times. 

"Love." 

A shiver went down your spine, your gaze now fixed on the man sitting in the chair in your living room. Other men stood, specifically his henchmen Jae, Wonpil, Dowoon, and Brian, quietly next to him awaiting your conversations. 

"What are you doing here," you got up, speaking through gritted teeth. 

Sungjin didn't look amused, instead, he sat in his crisp, black suit with a leg crossed and an emotionless expression. A deadly gaze thrown at you, he was unmistakeably mad and you were the cause. 

Still, anger took over you, and the need to correct him on what he was doing overwhelmed you. His silence was unbearable. 

"What the fuck do you want," you yelled, hot tears running down your cheek at your frustration and guilt. "Why the fuck are you here!"

"I wouldn't need to be here if you never had left me," he spoke smoothly, despite your enraged tone.  

Sungjin got up out of the chair, instinctively, you took a step back even if he was nowhere near you. "Did you really think I'd never find you," he said, picking up a picture frame on your couch's side table. 

It was a picture of you, Irene, and Irene's boyfriend. Your family, really, that's what they are to you. Both of them are the closest people you have. 

"You left a life of luxury for a secretary job, and them," he held up the frame. Practically mocking your choice of lifestyle. 

"Life of luxury," you scoffed, thinking carefully at your words. Sungjin killed people, you knew that, and the last you wanted was Irene or you to get shot by him. Sungjin wore a blazer to cover his gun, thankfully you remembered that. 

"I was a prisoner in your house-" 

"Our house," he corrected you.

You swallowed the anger before continuing. 

"Luxury is not what I would call that. I had no freedom because of your obsessive, possessive nature!" 

"I was protecting you." Sungjin took the picture and threw it across the room, the sudden action making you flinch. When he's quieter, he's irate, and you didn't want to fuck with that. 

"I had to leave you, there was no other way."

"Do you not love me," he simply asked, turning his head to make direct eye contact with you. 

"Sungjin," you muttered out. 

You couldn't answer that question, the relationship you shared was toxic and, at times, made you depressed. But he treated you so well, so delicately with love. Yes, you still loved him, after all, he did to you and you hated yourself for that. 

"Answer the question, love," he darkly said. His eyes trained on yours, casually he strode his way towards you, your body unable to move under his icy stare. 

"Please," you sobbed, more tears flushing out of your eyes. 

"Should I answer it for you?" 

He stopped right when he was in front of you, his height towering over you making you feel small. Languidly, he raised his calloused hand to your throat making you shutter with the memories of you both flooding back to you. His fingers tightened around your neck cutting off your airway lightly, forcing you to look at him the whole time. His breath lingered on your lips, making you yearn for that kiss you haven't felt in so long. 

"My love, why deny it. You love me, just as much as I love you." 

Inching his way down, both of your lips met each other. Leaving you both with a chaste kiss and a desire for more. 

"Either," he started, as he pulled away from the lips he missed kissing so dearly. "You can come home where you belong, or I can kill your friend and drag you home. Which one do you prefer?"  

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Freddie’s 40th birthday; Freddie Mercury x reader

*Author’s note*

In honor of the legend’s 74th birthday, as apart of my Rock Angel series, I have written up this little filler chapter centered around Freddie’s birthday. It’s unbelievable that had he lived today, we would’ve been celebrating his 74th bday. But as it is said in the Sandlot ‘Heroes get remembered, but legends never die’. Happy birthday Freddie Mercury, wherever you are, know that you are loved and are continued to be loved by generations of people that are just getting to know you or people that have followed/known you when you were alive.

Enjoy my lovelies and until the next update :)

Taglist:

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@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@platawnic​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@klausidiot​

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@naturalswifty89​

@starswin​

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@labessieisallama​

____________________________________________________________

*Sept. 7th, 1986*

I was looking myself over in the mirror seeing how my cowgirl hat looked.  It wasn’t anything fancy just a simple leather khaki hat that belonged to mum who gave it to me just for this party.  I brushed the ends of my hair before Jack came in wearing his Indiana Jones hat.

“Look at you my little cowgirl.”

“Now don’t you dare say something naughty or else you’re going to get it.” Jack faked a gasp.

“How dare you suggest I’d say such a thing.”

“Please Jack. You may look all sweet and innocent but even you can go Freddie Mercury dirty. Or worse Deacy leveled of rottenness.”

“Never did I think he could think such thoughts.”

“You do realize that his first song Misfire was all about pre-ejaculation right?”

“Okay subject change please!” I shoved him and said.

“You started it.”

“Nu-uh!”

“Oh shut it you. Now remind me again why you didn’t want to wear a cowboy hat?”

“You know what those hats do to me. Plus….” He stroked the rim of his Indie hat, “this makes me look cooler.” His brow quirked as he smirked in the mirror trying to be sexy (which he was but I’ll never admit that out loud).

“But then we could’ve been a matching set at the party. Fred would’ve been all gushed up about it.”

“You know this day is about him right?”

“Correction two days ago was all about him. This is his birthday party. Thankfully it won’t be as crazy as last years. Yeesh. I still don’t remember how Roger and I ended up in that closet together.”

“Let alone with your shirt over his face.”

“Oh god yeah that—most awkward thing ever. But I think I recall saying something like ‘it’s too hot in this hellhole for me!’ Or some random thing like that. At least that’s what Deacy said he heard. God we had sooo much tequila that night. Never again.”  He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me and pecked my cheek.

“Yeah cause I wouldn’t want to think that my wife was screwing around with her father figure.”

“EWW! Now that is something I know that not even drunk me would do. Why put that image into my brain oh god JACK!!!” he laughed as I began hitting his arm.  

“Ow! Okay! Okay I’m sorry!”

“You better be. Now what time is it?”

“6:40.”

“Shit we better get going!” I grabbed his hand and we took off out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

In the living room our sitter Derek aka ‘Dancing man’ Anderson, who was also one of my roadies on tour, was already feeding our daughter.

“Okay Derek, we’re heading out. Again thank you soo much for volunteering to babysit for me. Normally I wouldn’t ask you to do this much…….”

“Relax (Y/n). I’ve had 3 kids so I know how this works. Thankfully I was in the neighborhood. Plus I get the chance to see the kid before the rest of the roadies do.” I shook my head at him.

Derek had been one of my first roadies ever since I became the Rock Angel.  He was about the same age as Roger was and if I’m being honest, he’s kinda like Roger in a way.  In fact if I remember correctly it was Roger’s roadie Crystal that recommended Derek to me.  He’s great with electronics and lighting and he’s basically the ringleader since he’s the only one of my original team that has stuck with me for the past five years.

“Okay so her bottles are in the fridge and I’ve laid out instructions on how to warm them up. Her bedtime is in two hours, and her favorite story is ‘Oh the places you’ll go’. And ohh I know I’m forgetting something.”

“Angel, relax. I’ve got this. Jack gave me the full rundown about an hour ago while you were deciding on your hat. Give my birthday regards to Fred.”

“We will. Thanks again Derek.” Jack said as the two of them shook hands with each other.

“No prob, you two kids have fun. And don’t worry mini Angel will be safe and sound.”

“Alright, bye baby girl. Mummy loves you.” I leaned down and pecked my daughter’s cheek repeatedly then Jack came down and kissed the top of her head which was starting to sprout my hair color and told her.

“Daddy loves you too sweetheart.” Jack and I picked up our gifts for Freddie and we walked out the door and headed to the car.

To my surprise Jack actually offered to drive to Freddie’s place at Garden Lodge.  I looked at him surprised and switched seats with him and I must admit I’m surprised that he’s managed to get driving in England down.

“Wow Jack I must say, you’ve really adapted to our way of driving, haven’t yah?”

“Well seeing you guys drive all the time kinda helped me out a bit more. Plus those old driving lessons from Deacy also helped as well.”

“So I got to ask. American style of driving or UK style of driving.”

“Oh American hands down. I still fear that I’m gonna ram into someone driving on this side of the road.”

“Guess we both feel that way. When your cousin Jensen gave me my first car driving lessons, I was terrified beyond belief. Not only was it something totally different, but also just driving on the side of the road that I’ve never driven on. But you’re doing good baby. I’m proud of you.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and he said.

“Hey now, no need to get frisky. I’m the one behind the wheel here.”

“You are just full of snappy comebacks today aren’t yah?” he grinned at me and continued to drive on.

After a while we finally arrived at Freddie’s place just ten minutes past 7.  Jack parked the car just a few yards away from the entrance of Garden Lodge and the two of us walked hand in hand towards the entrance.  I pressed the buzzer at the gate and that’s when Jim’s voice came on the intercom and he said.

‘Hello?’

“Hey Jim it’s Jack and (Y/n). We made it.”

‘Ahh the Kline couple, come right on in.’ the gate let out a buzz and Jack opened the door and tipped his hat just like Indiana Jones as he did his best Harrison Ford impression.

“My lady.”

“Why thank you Dr. Jones.” I said in my best Southern accent before walking right on in and he followed behind me.

We walked across the front garden and I couldn’t help but admire the flowers that grew down the runway towards the house.  We walked up the steps and Jack knocked on the door and soon answering the door wearing a pink boa with an angel halo on top of his head was the Queen himself, Freddie Mercury.

“Well about fucking time you two got here. I was beginning to think you both skipped out on me.”

“Please Fred. If we wanted to, you’d never let us hear the end of it.” I teased him.  He chuckled and smiled that wide smile of his before extending his arms out and the two of us hugged and kissed each other.

“And Jack. Handsome and dashing as ever.” Freddie praised.

“Thanks Fred.” Jack blushed.

“And a couple’s costume at that. I swear I think you two will upstage me. And I’m supposed to be the birthday boy here.”

“Oh well Fred actually we’re not doing a couple’s costume. At least not anymore we aren’t.”

“Oh well then Jack what kind of hat is this supposed to be?” Fred said as he stroked the rim of Jack’s Indiana Jones hat.

“Wow and I thought you would’ve at least seen at least one of the films. This is an Dr. Indiana Jones hat.”

“A doctor you say, well what the fuck kind of doctor wears that kind of hat?”

“He’s also an archeologist that goes on adventures Fred.” I explained to him.  Freddie ahhed in understandment.

“Okay now I see. Well besides all that, come on in my darlings the party’s just beginning.” Fred opened the front door wider and allowed Jack and I to enter inside.

And amazingly while there were a lot of people there, it wasn’t as full crazed as his birthday party last year.  It was mellow, quieter, people making small talk amongst friends.  It was a nice change for once (especially after the after party for the Magic tour).

The party went on and as Fred and I stood side by side of each other looking out at the other party guests I turned to him and said.

“You know I’m really surprised Fred. You really mellowed out.”

“Well darling the older you get, the less of a party animal you become. Even the champ must lose at one point.”

“All these metaphors and old saying you’ve been saying throughout this past year, I swear Fred you should be a philosopher.”

“As great as some of their sayings are, they’d be boring to meet in real life. And dear I refuse to be boring.” He playfully dipped my hat forward covering my eyes.  I groaned and playfully shoved him as I readjusted my hat.

That’s when I noticed a band on his right ring finger.

I took his hand and held it and looked up at him and asked him intrigued.

“And just what is this Fred?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know.” Fred teased me.

“C’mon Fred. You know as well as I that this ring isn’t like any of the old concert rings you used to wear ten years ago. So out with it.” Fred looked around before clasping my hand with his and he dragged me off upstairs where we would have some privacy.

We made it to his master suite and there I saw Delilah and Goliath both sunning themselves on the bed.

“It’s from Jim.” Freddie spoke softly as he stared down at th ring lovingly. “He gave it to my just before everyone got here. A sorta—one year anniversary present. I would wear it on my left hand if I could but—you know how people are these days when it comes to relationships. Especially with mine.”

I walked up to him and cupped his face between my hands.  He and I stared at each other and I said to him.

“I’m happy for you Fred. Truly I am. And hell if it were up to me, I’d have you and Jim married tonight if you both wanted to.”

“I know you would darling.” He very gingerly pinched my cheek.

“And……people can be bastards. They think that sexual relationships have to be in a straight fashion. Even Johanna and Graham thought that way. Any trace of homosexuality, they’d treat them as if they were scum of the scum. They’d even tried to brainwash me into believing it as well. But thankfully I have more common sense than them or anyone else that thinks that way. Love is Love. As long as two people are happy and in love with each other, so long as they are of legal age, then it doesn’t matter.” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“A lioness with a heart of gold. Your parents would be proud of you darling.” He said as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Who knows maybe one day the world can change and have people of the same sex get married. And when that day comes, I’ll be right there at your side as your Maid of honor.” Freddie softly smiled and said.

“I’ll let you plan the whole thing out if you want.”

“Good cause you know I’ve got some suggestions.”

“You did learn from the best.”

“Also I’m gonna tell you what you once told me when Jack and I first became a couple. If he breaks your heart, or makes you cry like that last bastard of a man you had, I’ll pop him off his arse till he’s in a coma.”

We both softly laughed and pecked each other’s cheeks before embracing each other tightly.  “Never change my darling Rock Angel.”

“Never Freddie. So long as you never change either.”

“With you by my side, I doubt I ever will.” We both softly laughed.

“C’mon. I’m betting everyone’s wondering where the birthday boy is at.” We took each other’s hands once more and walked out of his master suite and headed back downstairs.

Everyone gathered in the back garden as Jim, Terry and Phoebe pulled out the cake (which was sculpted into the shape of an orange, black and white patterned cat standing on a podium with its paw up in the air).

Once the sparkling candles were lit, we all sang Happy birthday to Freddie.  Freddie stood by his cake smiling and gushing about till the end of the song before finally blowing out his candles.

“I better not expect a girl wearing a cat costume to pop out and ruin this cake!” we all laughed and that’s when Jim came up to him and delicately cut the bottom part of the cake.  As Jack and I sat together I couldn’t take my eyes off of Freddie.

He was just radiating this pure energy as he chatted away with Phoebe, Jim and his other friends that he knew outside of Queen. He truly was a ray of sunshine who made everyone laugh and smile, and I am so glad that he got out of Prenter’s grasp when he did cause this this was the Freddie I knew and loved.

“He seems happier with Jim.” Jack said to me as he ate a piece of his cake.

“He does. He finally found himself a little niche in life. And I’m happy for him.”

“So they’re really together, aren’t they?” Jack asked me. Of course there wasn’t any hatred or disgust as my husband spoke those words, he genuinely wanted to know whether or not Freddie and Jim were seriously an item or not.

“They are. And I can see that it’s real love between those two. I hope they stay together for a long, long time. They’re good for each other.”

“I’ll admit it, even though I’ve never really seen a gay romance for myself. I think they really do love each other.”

“It’s just like us. Like Deacy and Ronnie, like any other straight marriage or relationship. It doesn’t matter the gender of the person so long as two people love each other and care about one another. Love is Love.”

“I can get behind that.” Jack said as he nuzzled his face into my neck making me giggle softly.

It was about an hour after sunset when the party finally came to a close.  Everyone bid their goodbyes to Freddie and when I had invited Fred and Jim to come and have tea tomorrow, that’s when I found out that they would actually be leaving for Japan tomorrow afternoon.

“Oh wow Japan. You two going on your honeymoon?” I playfully nudged Fred.

“It’s not so much a honeymoon dear. Just a way for Jim and I to get to know each other a little more without all the press and cameras stalking us.”

“Understood. Those blood-sucking leeches.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbled.

“Well I hope you both have a safe trip and enjoy yourselves.”

“We will darling. And I’ll be sure to pick something up for the mini-angel’s birthday in a couple months. As well as a souvenir gift.”

“You know she’s still a baby right?”

“So what? Just because she’s a baby doesn’t mean I have to stop spoiling her.” I rolled my eyes and embraced Freddie and he hugged me back.

“You’re gonna drive me to early grey hair Mercury.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous darling.” He said in a posh tone. “As I’ve always said you’re gonna be an ageless beauty. It’s me and the other guys that’ll age like milk.” I slapped his arm then we kissed each other goodbye then Jack and I took our leave.

When we arrived back home, we came in to see Derek sitting on the couch watching the news.

“How was the party?” he asked us.

“Mellow but fun. How was our girl?” Jack said.

“Barely gave me any trouble, unlike my own daughter when she was that age. The only fuss she made was when I had to change her nappie before bed.”

“She’s done that with us too. Mum hopes she’ll grow out of it soon.” I said as I walked up to him.

‘Growing cases of the AIDS and HIV virus continues to climb. So far in England alone more than 1000 confirmed deaths have occurred due to the virus…..’ I shut the TV off and muttered angrily.

“I hate the news. They never have anything positive to say. All it is is just death, gang bangs, cults, economy crashes, war, or this new virus that’s been coming up.”

“Don’t let it affect you too much Angel, you don’t need to have all that negativity floating in your head. Well I best be off.”

“Thanks again Derek, I’ll send you your payment in the morning.” I told him.

“No need. This one’s on the house. Have a good night Angel, Jack.”

“Night Derek. Drive safely.” Jack told him as Derek grabbed his coat and keys then left the house.

Jack and I changed out of our party clothes and got into our pajamas and cuddled close together.

“G’night Jack.” I yawned.

“G’night my love. Sweet dreams.” Jack whispered.  He kissed my forehead as the two of us fell asleep cuddled under the sheets.

[idlecommotiony]

You know those times when you’re sitting in your room wasting away alone. Yeah, same.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hey! so, i've been a huge fan of your writing for a while now. you always offer me so much inspiration within your stories, i absolutely love your ability bring life to all the characters and settings you write about. and idk if you're still accepting requests for your otp mix n' match challenge, nor if you'd even consider doing this request haha, but- could i perhaps request 15 & 11? i am super interested in potentially seeing what your take on my personal otp would be! much love either way

Hi, this has been in my drafts for like.... forever. Since April or May, I think? Oh boy. My apologies, I completely forgot about it until I stumbled across it today. But hey, better now than never, I suppose. Also thank you for your kinds words! I truly appreciate it! :D

“Louis and Mitch pretend to date to make others jealous but you know what happens.”

Read on AO3

This is a joke. 

This is a joke and he’s the butt of it. 

How did the fuck did he end up here?

Mitch knows this has to be a joke because Louis did not go through this much effort for it to not be a joke.

The remaining fries on the plate have gone cold, mushy beneath the squirt of bright cheddar cheese. Walter’s Diner has the best fries in this hellhole of a town, and usually, they’re the first thing he chows down before finishing his burger or even touching his shake. 

Fuck. Fucking hell. 

It’s hard to concentrate on and enjoy his food with Louis’ arm behind his neck, hand casually resting over Mitch’s shoulder as he and Violet argue whether they should order a basket of donut holes or four slices of peach pie for dessert. 

“They’re stuffed,” Violet says, pointing at the menu, reading, “‘Our bite-sized delights are baked to perfection, stuffed with our delicious cream cheese filling, and tossed in a heavenly mixture of cinnamon and sugar.’ And you’re telling me that doesn’t sound good?”

 “And you’re telling me that a slice of Walter’s famous peach pie doesn’t make your mouth water?” Louis sighs. “I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

Violet wrinkles her nose. 

“Peach pie sucks.”

“You suck.” 

“You suck.”

“C’mon guys,” Aasim butts in, eyes rolling in that exasperated way he gets whenever Louis and Violet do this. “Donuts suck, pie sucks, and you both suck. Let’s order ice cream.”

With a hand pressed against his chest, Louis lets out his fakest, most dramatic gasp. Next comes the obnoxious- and probably offensive- British accent.

“Why, my dear Mitch, Violet, did you hear what this lickspittle just said to us?”

Violet’s last tater tot goes flying as a response, bouncing off Aasim’s nose. 

“Are you serious?” Aasim snatches the tater tot back up, throwing it at Louis. 

“Hey! Rude!” Louis laughs, his arm slipping out from behind Mitch to try and catch the tot. “What did I do?”

Without a thought, Mitch grabs the offending tot and tosses it back at Aasim, who catches it and lets it drop onto his plate. 

“Knock it off, guys,” he says. “It shouldn’t take this long to decide on a dessert. I vote pie.” 

That makes Louis smile.

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” he sighs, shifting closer against Mitch’s side- Jesus Christ almighty- and pressing quick kiss against his cheek. 

Fuck everything. Fuck, fuck-

This causes Mitch to suck in a breath, only to cover it up by coughing into his sleeve. God, his face is going to melt off, especially if Louis keeps looking at him like that. 

“That’s not a surprise,” Violet rolls her eyes, ignoring the kiss and Mitch’s coughing fit. “He sucks, too.” 

“Can’t we just agree that we all suck?” Louis says. 

“Can’t you ever shut your pie hole?” 

“Can’t we all just order different desserts?” Aasim pleads, finger jabbing at the menu on the table to emphasize his point. 

Louis and Violet look at one another, puzzled as if that idea never occurred to them. At this point, Mitch didn’t even care about dessert, didn’t really even want any. 

Louis shifts and there’s the warm, distracting press of his knee against his and Mitch has never been so tense in his entire life. 

He's too fucking close. Too close. Too close. And he kissed him. On the cheek, sure, but fucking hell-

Never has he felt such tension in his body, even when something obnoxiously embarrassing passes his father’s mouth, or when Willy’s fingers slip from the branches of whatever tree he’s climbing and he almost plummets to the ground. 

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that Aasim won’t stop gawking at them every time they do anything, or that Louis is fucking comfortable doing the things that make Aasim gawk in the first place. 

This whole thing is nothing but a cruel joke that Mitch was stupid enough to take the bait for.

And for what? A promise of Louis buying him lunch every day for a month? Was a free meal every day worth this level of anxiety and... gross feelings? 

“Fine,” says Violet. “I’ll eat a whole basket myself, but don’t any of you dare eyeball them. You had your chance.”

“I won’t eyeball your donuts if you don’t eyeball my pie.” 

“I won’t because pie sucks.”

“You suck!” 

“Oh my god,” Aasim abruptly twists around, desperately tapping on the shoulder of a now startled waitress. “Two slices of peach pie, a basket of donuts holes, and an ice cream cone to go. Please. I want to go home.” 

The waitress stares at him, baffled, before nodding and getting away from their table as quickly as possible. 

Louis chuckles, arm slipping back behind Mitch as he says, “I think she likes you.”

“Shut up!” Aasim frowns. “I swear to god...”

Louis continues to laugh, but he steals a glance at Mitch. Something softens and it’s... Mitch doesn’t know what the fuck it is. Ever since they started this, sometimes Louis will look at him like that.

From what he can tell, Louis doesn’t even look at the girl like that, and she’s the entire reason they’re doing this. 

That girl- what the fuck’s her name? He couldn’t have possibly tuned Louis out every time he mentions her- the redhead from his art class or whatever. She’s the one who started this bullshit.

About a month ago, Louis wrote him a note detailing, “I need your help. Meet me by the school entrance during lunch? It’s important,” while they’re in the middle of a pop quiz. As if Mitch didn’t have enough to worry about with all the damn fractions scattering the quiz, but then he was left worry about what the hell Louis needed his help with. 

Also, he did this without Mr. Garcia noticing. How the fuck that’s possible is beyond him. If they were caught, both of their quizzes would’ve been ripped to shreds. Mitch didn’t need that shit right now.

Then, the entrance was barely in sight by the time Louis snuck up on him, grabbed his arm, and proceeded to drag him outside and across the parking lot so they could hop into the safety of Mitch’s hand-me-down truck despite Mitch’s protests. He hadn’t cleaned his truck of its fast-food wrappers or loose sheets of forgotten homework in weeks, and that left him worried that the air freshener didn’t work. 

Finally, Louis managed to explain this so-called plan of his to Mitch with a straight face, not cracking once. He actually sounds serious enough that Mitch might’ve believed him if this bullshit wasn’t so... so bullshit.

“I really like her,” Louis had said, “and Violet said this kind of thing could get her attention.” 

Of course, Mitch didn’t agree so easily because the plan was- nd still is- stupid.

“You think pretending to date me is gonna get her attention?” he scoffed. “I’m not fucking doing this. Ask Vi.”

“I can’t ask Vi. She doesn’t date dudes and I’m pretty sure Brody would, like, break me in half or something.”

“Fine, Aasim then.” 

“C’mon, you know Aasim would never.” 

“Well,” Mitch threw his hands up. “I would never! Find someone else because I’m not gonna be your fake boyfriend so that you can make what’s-her-nut jealous!”

Jokes on him- Mitch’s been Louis’ fake boyfriend for weeks now because he hasn’t wooed what’s-her-nut yet. Which wasn’t that the whole point? They just pretend while she’s around? Not when they’re alone or when hanging out with Violet and Aasim? 

Louis said it was to make it as real as possible, just in case what’s-her-nut found out. That doesn’t explain why Louis is the way he is when it’s just the two of them. Doesn’t explain the kiss on the cheek. 

Mitch eats a cold fry, cringing at the taste. He can feel Violet looking at him while Louis goes on about something that happened in choir. When Mitch meets her eye, she smirks, raising a knowing brow. Mitch gives her a light kick under the table. 

When the waitress finally brings them their dessert in separate bags, she doesn’t stick around long and avoids eye contact with Aasim. 

“Hey, Vi,” Louis leans over her shoulder as they’re leaving the diner, “Can I have a donut hole?”

“I will stab you, your boyfriend, and your pie.”

“Hey, not my pie!” Louis grabs Mitch’s hand, knocking his shoulder into his. “Or my Mitch!” 

Fucking hell. 

Mitch doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this. 

[animaniachan]

Happy Belated April Fools!: A3! Camel Tenma Imagine

…yes, you’ve read the title right

…no, i don’t have that kind of fetish

…but also yes, i’ve also just wrote a 1.5k+ words imagine on a camel (in reality this took me about a week to fully figure out how to camel)

i would like to point out that none of this would’ve happened if not for the lovely @currywaifu for dragging me down into this hell. 99.9% of the credit for this imagine goes to you even though i am the one who wrote it. so i figured that since i’m already here, ima drag all of you down here with me ;)))

on that note, i would be opening imagine requests for this blog very soon but dear god not about tsundere animals, this is not in any way indicative of how the future writing projects on this blog are going to go…maybe.

anyways, prepare yourselves and enjoy…i guess

ao3 version: here

NIGHTMARE FUEL WARNING

—

“Mm…” your previous drowsy eyes were forced open to the bright sunlight beaming down at you. “...Where the hell am I and what am I doing here?” you glanced around, confusion clearly littered in your hues. What you are witnessing before you is a vast, open field of vibrant green with not much more to offer other than some lonely trees spread out in the distance.

You had no recollection whatsoever about your current situation. The last vivid memory you had was your visit with your celebrity, carrot-head boyfriend at the Mankai Dorms since today was the one time when he actually had a day off. “Seriously...where the hell is this place…?” Since there’s no point in simply standing around like an idiot, you’ve decided to explore this vast pool of greenery, hoping to discover at least some sort of clue.

However, your hopes to discover anything quickly dissipated as the field seemed like it was stretching infinitely with no clear signs of an end. It was at that moment that an indescribable sense of despair took control of your entire being and you hopelessly collapsed onto the green cushion below you.

In contrast to the beautiful scenery around you, your mood was like a wilted flower as you slowly scrunched your knees up and buried your head into them. You know that the waterworks would kick in very soon while your only wish at this point was to leave this mysterious hellhole so you can see your boyfriend again and jump into this arm for comfort and finally STOP this god forsaking nudging sensation on your head and, and…

Hm? Nudging?

You suddenly realized the gentle yet weighted sensation that would periodically brush against your head was not just your imagination playing tricks on you and was very real. Relief began filling in your wounds of despair as just the thought of another individual being here with you is more than enough comfort. You swiftly glanced up to the source of the contact in hopes of finally receiving the information you’ve been desiring for all this time.

However, the second you did so, all the thoughts that previously occupied your mind was sucked into a boundless black hole. The world seemed to stop flowing around you as you were met with the most gorgeous amethyst hues you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The sharp gazes pierced through you like arrows and it was then you noticed the long lashes that complemented those perfectly-shaped eyes. With a breath hitched in the middle of your throat,  you can’t help but be completely mesmerized by those crystal clear hues. Incidentally, at the same time, a strong sense of nostalgia emerged from the depth of you, they reminded you of someone, almost as if you’ve stared into the exact same hues before...somewhere…

At that point, you were so deep in thought that it resulted in you simply staring blankly back at the intense amethyst gaze. It wasn’t until you saw that they eventually broke contact with your own hues in a very awkward and uncomfortable fashion that you’ve realized you’ve been staring for much too longer than you had originally anticipated.

“Ah— I’m so sorry! That was very rude of me to stare! The truth is, I have no idea where this place is and was hoping that you could help me—” desperately trying to redeem yourself from the previous rudeness displayed, you bowed hectically like a maniac while asking for forgiveness. It wasn’t until you’ve glanced up again how large the figure of the individual actually was. The first to come into view was their abnormally long yet muscular legs, then it proceeded to a very broad yet protruding back, lastly you traced their body line all the way up to their long neck before finally receding back to those gorgeous amethysts which stood out amongst the pool of orange. “...What?”

T-This is what you think it is...or is it? As dumbfounded as you are by your recent discovery, your brain cells have somehow managed to process the identity of the individual before you. 

This is...a camel, right? What the hell is a camel doing in the middle of a meadow!? 

In contrast to your actual feelings, the orange beast seemed to think of your reaction to his figure a form of compliment, evident by how it arrogantly puffed its chest out and gave a good ol’ proud huff in response.

...I wasn’t praising you, that was all shock, you proud idiot… The phrase that floated into your mind was all too familiar since it was your go-to response to the occasional idiocy of a certain carrot-head actor. “I swear...just when I started to get hopeful again...why?” Today has been an emotional rollercoaster and just when you thought you’ve already made it down the first slope, there seemed to be an even larger second slope ahead. The dam that had previously managed to contain your tears previously broke down once again. Sorrowful sobs continuously escaped your lips and refused to cease as you vigorously tried to wipe away your tears.

However, what you didn’t realize was the flustered look the camel gave after seeing you suddenly resolve into tears as if it’s trying to say, “why did you suddenly start crying!? You were just fine a minute ago!” Your sudden outburst of emotions managed to put this camel into a panic frenzy as it desperately looked around as if attempting to find a source of comfort to calm you down. Though, its efforts were futile as the lack of resources around you could be comparable to a barren wasteland.

All that it can do now is look down hopelessly at your slumped state while having a mental battle with itself about the next course of action. Then, after having seemingly arrived at a viable solution, resolution flickered in its glittering amethyst orbs. After letting out a huffing sigh, the majestic orange beast lowered its lengthy neck to eye-level with you and leaned in as gentle as it can muster to be to not so much lick, but instead offer a gentle peck to your teary eyes with its furry snout.

Completely caught off guard by the action that is absolutely unbefitting of a camel, your overwhelming emotions came to a halt as you stared back at the animal, mouth agape. “You...what are you…?”

“Mrrorahhh…” To your question, the camel simply responded with incomprehensible camel noises. Of course, it was a camel, what did you even expect. However, somewhere, you felt, its emotions came through.

“Are you...perhaps telling me to stop crying?”

“Mrrorahh.” Once again, the camel cried as if to confirm your inquiry.

“Hehe, thanks. You’re right, crying’s not going to change anything,” honestly, you couldn’t believe that you were just comforted by a camel as you wiped away the last of the tears that streaked down your face. “You’re surprisingly a very smart and kind camel eh? There, there, thanks again.” Without thinking, you reached out and gave a few loving strokes on the animal’s head. Though, the second you’ve done so you felt it tense and freeze in place like a statue. Uh-oh, did I somehow offend it by petting it? Wait, can you even offend a camel in the first place? Oh god, whatever you do, just please don’t eat me… “S-sorry, I kind of just instinctively did that- huh?”

Of course, you’ve brought up your guards as soon as you detected the camel’s odd actions since you didn’t know and didn’t want to know what it could do to you if it went off a rampage. However, what happened next managed to send all common sense you’ve come to know in your life down a limitless black hole.

What you’ve witnessed was the animal before you once again averting those brilliant purples away from your own though this time, a deep shade of rosy pink was dyed across its entire face. T-This...this is what I think it is right? I never knew that camels were even capable of blushing… So you do learn something new everyday…

“Pfft...hahaha! What is this? You’re so adorable! Oh my god, I can’t- my stomach hurts!”

In response to your maniac laughter, the very same one you would use to make fun of a certain actor, you could’ve sworn the camel gave you a glare that suggested, “what the hell is so funny and don’t call me adorable!”

“Ahahaha...ha...you know, even though you’re a camel, you remind me a lot, like a lot of someone I know.” The camel whipped its gaze back towards you again at your nonchalant comment. It narrowed its perfectly shaped eyes and offered you the gentlest and kindest gaze as if it understood your words. And in response, as much as you hate to admit it, your heart definitely skipped a beat under those warm and kind eyes. What is this feeling…?

“-i, [Name], -ake up!”

No, this is a camel! There’s no way that I’m being captivated by a camel-!

“Wake up!”

Besides, even if I did feel this way, there’s no chance in hell since I already have Tenm-

“[NAME]!!”

Your eyes shot open almost as quickly as your body which basically catapulted upwards and resulted in painful contact with whatever it was that lurked above you. “Ow!”

“OW! What was that all about!?”

“Eh? Tenma…?” The first thing that descended in your field of vision was your orange-haired, multi-talented actor, and extreme tsundere boyfriend who was now holding his forehead in pain from the lovely headbutt that you’ve just offered him. Still not registering the full extent of the situation, you glanced around your surroundings in a daze before realizing that you’re in Tenma and Yuki’s room of the Mankai Dorm and that you’re currently laying on Tenma’s bed.

“Geez… I don’t know what to be more baffled by, the hardness of your head or the fact that you can fall asleep in a duration of a phone call.”

Ahh...so that’s what it is…

The second the puzzle pieces clicked into place, a new resolution was formed inside of you as you wordlessly leaped off your boyfriend’s bed and made your way out of his room.

“Oi, [Name], where are you going?” Not used to not hearing a familiar comeback from you, Tenma began to get worried as he hurriedly followed after your footsteps.

Meanwhile, your silent search finally came to an end as you found the one and only you were looking for in the living room, “hey, Tsuzuru-san?”

“Mm? What’s the matter, [Name]?”

“I have a request for the script of the next summer troupe show,” you stoically stated just as Tenma finally caught up to you.

“Oh? Well, let’s hear it.”

“...can you please cast Tenma as a camel for his next performance?”

“...huh?”

“WHY!?”

[kneel-begyourpardon]

Boy In The Crowd

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: you never thought you would find your saviour in the crowd.

Warning: ANGST, physical and phycological abuse, rape, human trafficking, Statutory rape, smoking, drinking, violence, some bad parenting, paedophilia, mention of suicide, vomit, implied smut, pregnancy, childbirth, fluff? well somewhat happy ending.

Word count: 3813

A/n: this was for our lovely @writingsoftheloser​‘s 1.5k writing challenge. I’m so proud of you hun! you deserve so much more! (BTW I’m always right.) and huge thank you to @simam12 for putting up with my whining. hope you enjoy and please tell me anything I missed in the warnings.

Prompt:  Dill- powerful again evil. (I hope it goes with it?)

The first time he saw you, you were five. He still remembers it as clear as a day. The first time his father ever showed interested in spending time with him. The first time he stepped in that terrifying place. Full of darkness and wicked. The smoke-filled his lungs as he sat down next to his brother. His feet dangled from the edge of the couch as the laughter of drunk man reached his ears. The disturbing smell of alcohol was giving him a headache and he wished he stayed behind, with his mother. 

A woman appeared on the stage and clapping begun. Her ridiculous costume and the smile, made him think they came to the show but the moment the woman opened his mouth his brows furrowed in confusion. He wanted to ask what was going on, but when he saw his brother’s excited face and how proud his father was of him, he shut his mouth and focused on the woman.

“We have a new one!” she yelled and catcalls and whistles filled the room. The banging on the table made him flinch as he looked around. The men looked like animals. Starved for days, only to be fed and it scared him. It scared him to his core. 

A little girl appeared on the stage dressed in disgusting garments. Described with the words that were only told to him that was disrespectful. With the words that he had never heard before. The words that only made the crowd go crazier as they began yelling. 

Men looking at you like you were a prize. Their eyes sparkled as they licked their lips, warmed their hands, counted their money. They ordered you around and you couldn’t help but shake. This all was new to you. What was happening? You had no idea. 

Your little legs trembled as you were ordered to turn around. Ordered to bend over. Ordered to open your mouth. Your tiny fingers fiddled with the hem of your white, see-through top, as they started bidding. 

The shouting got louder as the numbers he hadn’t learned yet were yelled out and he looked around. The money got to millions and the woman clapped her hands from the exhilaration of payment as she announced the winner.

Back then he didn’t understand. Why were you treated like that? Why were you looked at as if you were a piece of meat and nothing else? When you were just like him. A child. An innocent child, that was supposed to be loved and cared. Not dragged around like a doll. 

He remembers looking into your eyes. When you scanned the crowd and your gaze settled on him he felt pain. He felt guilty and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t even know what was happening. But something in your eyes made him want to cry. 

Maybe It was your small smile or small wave with one finger. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes when one of the men stood up and sneered at you. Or maybe it was just his heart that kept telling him to come up there and take you back home to his mama. Keep you safe. Keep you away from these cruel men.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word when a drunk middle-aged man, dressed in fancy clothes grabbed you but your upper arm and dragged you out of the room as other men whined. 

Your little legs couldn’t keep up with his enormous strides and you tried to look back. Look back at him. But the man just kept going and you had to follow. You had to do as they said. You had to make them feel better or you were useless. You were taught well and that’s all you knew. Don’t fight them. Do as they say. Make them feel good. Make them pay. So what if you didn’t understand what they said? You did as they say.  

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

The second time he saw you, he already knew what was going on. As he walked into the room he was met with the familiar sight. Nothing had changed. Everything was the same. Almost half a decade and it felt as if he was still five years old, lugs burnt from the smell of cigars and alcohol. 

The atmosphere was the same. The people were the same. Disgusting and vile. The same woman took the stage and it started the same way but this time you weren’t the first one. The shouting and screaming, once again filled the room as the money went up. The same thing. 

Men on the stage. Scared girls. Leaving the room. Next one.  

Everything was identical until you stepped on the platform.

He looked at you but he couldn’t recognize you. You had changed. You had turned into a completely different person. Ten years old and your eyes held sadness and sorrow he had never seen before. The expression you looked over the room with, made him look away. Made him feel ashamed. 

There he was, sitting comfortably, fully dressed in dear attire, while you stood there in front of hundreds of revolting men looking at you. Judging you by your body. By how small your waist was, how shiny your legs were, how much your corset was stuffed and he felt his stomach turn.

And as if you were looking for him, your eyes landed on the raven-haired boy and the hatred he saw in your gaze made a lump form in his throat. That small smile you had gifted him was replaced by a glare. 

How could you smile at him when he was one of them. When he was sitting all happy while you were forced to please the men. Please the monsters. They didn’t care how old you were. They didn’t care how hurt you were. They paid the money so you belonged to them for the night. They could use you the way they wanted and then throw away you like you meant nothing. Leaving you in the bed or on the floor.

And every night was a crack to your soul. A step to shuttering. A move to finally giving up. But you still held your head high. Still fought. Still trying. You knew there wasn’t much time left for you. There was a reason there weren’t many older girls at the place. The thought of ending this sounded much better than bearing a child from one of them. Giving her the same faith as you. You weren’t going to leave her in this hellhole. You weren’t going to let someone else suffer like you.  You weren’t going to give them another toy. Another doll to play with. 

You shot last glare and two men took a hold of your shoulders, leading you out of the room.

He followed with his gaze, praying that you would look back and would see how sorry he was. How he wished he could help. But you didn’t. You just made your way without a glance and that’s when he excused himself from the table. 

He stumbled into the washroom. Kicking the door open, he fell to his knees. Heavy breath. One, two and there it was. He clutched the edges of cold marble as he took out everything he ate. Closing his eyes tightly, the picture of your cold glare appeared in front of him. The two men standing behind you and just the thought of what they would do to you made him take out everything that was left in his stomach. The sob escaped his lips as he thought how many nights you went to sleep with tears in your eyes but not being able to cry because of the gruesome man sleeping next to you. And God knew, what he would do to you if you woke him up.

With trembling hands, he wiped his mouth. With shaky knees, he stood up and washed his hands. With hatred in his eyes, he looked in the mirror and that was the first day he felt ashamed for being a man. 

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

Seventeen. What have they done to you? What have they turned you into? 

Your eyes, they were dead. They held no emotion.  No joy, no fear, no hatred. Nothing. 

Your body was degraded from all the sickening roles you had to play to please the men. Your soul was degraded from all the unholy things they have done to you. Your pride was degraded from all the times they have touched you with you begging to be released. They finally broke you, those cracks finally came together and tore you apart.  

For a second he thought your legs would give out. You would finally give up. Your heart would finally stop as your lungs would breathe out last time. You would fall and the peaceful sleep would take over you, for forever. Part of him hoped that’s what would happen. At least you’d be safe. At least you would be out of this cruel, dark world. At least nobody would touch you after that. 

The Bidding begun and he felt the familiar urge to stand up and scream, to shout, to take your hand and run away. Run and don’t look back. They broke you! They took a life away from you! The only thing that was left from you was a dead body. The body they would use and throw away. 

He tightened his hands on his stomach, as tears filled his eyes, his body shook but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

What have they done to you?!

“You want her?” his father’s voice reached his ears and his eyes flickered to him for a moment. When he saw the smile oh his face, he was sure he wouldn’t make it to the restroom this time. So he tightly closed his eyes and nodded. Nodded and he couldn’t help but wish to be dead. 

The bidding continued but he couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything, except you. You and your frozen figure. Your slumped shoulders and your dead eyes. Your fragile body and your faded scars. He couldn’t look away.

The sound of applause woke him up as his brother’s patted him on the shoulder. The laughter, clapping, whistling and blinding lights. As if he just won a prize. As if he did anything. His father smiled at him and he hurried him up his feet. Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Every pair of eyes were on him and he felt the blood leave his face as he looked around. Was this how you felt? Of course not. They watched him with proud smiles on their face while eyeing you like a prey.

He slowly made his way towards the stage. The weight on his heart made it harder to breathe as he stumbled up the stairs. There you were. Still standing unmoved. And for a second he doubted himself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should just go back, sit down and keep his head down just like you. 

And as if the crowd sensed his hesitation, another applause roared and it took everything in him not to double over, taking out everything, one more time. 

He took another step in your direction and you finally looked up at him. You looked at him and the look of recognition ran over your face. The disappointment in your eyes made him want to fall to his knees and assure you he wasn’t like other. Assure you that he wouldn't touch you. Promise you that all he wanted was safety for you. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t while everyone was watching.

He gently took a hold of your arm and led you to the direction he has seen you disappear before. The door closed and the crowd was left behind. He let go of your hand and took a step back.  This time was different. You had to lead the way as he followed behind you, hesitation clear in his steps. 

Others this time would grab you roughly, drag you to the room and have their way, but not him. Maybe he was waiting for you to be completely alone before doing anything. Maybe he was shy because it was his first time with you. You didn’t know what was running through his head but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

You thought he was different. Different from his brother. From his father and from his men. Well, at least you hoped he was but you were wrong. Naive to believe his kind could be any better. They were men after all.

You opened the door and stepped in first, the boy hot on your trail. He closed the room and you turned to face him. His beautiful eyes looked over the room. You had to admit he was attractive but you had seen too many nice faces with ugly souls. You weren’t going to fall for it this time.

He didn’t make a move as his focus stayed on a fancy room. It was too fancy for this kind of situation and he realised why the men paid so much for a night. The room had two more rooms and he assumed one of them was washroom but another he didn’t even want to find out because of your quick, fearful glance towards it.

You stood there waiting for him to do something. anything. To make a move. To order you around. To ask you how this goes but nothing happened. His eyes finally settled on you but he didn’t look over at your body like every other. He didn’t lick his lips. He didn’t regret spending money on you. No, all he did was look you in the eyes. There was something in them that made you want to smile. Smile for him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe the remorse. Maybe the pleading. Maybe the sadness in them. You didn’t know but you liked it.

“Loki,” he whispered, disturbing the comfortable silence. “Name? Your name?” he breathed out, as if afraid to ask.

You shrugged. You weren’t given the name. The name meant that you had something they couldn’t take away from you. The name meant that you were a person. The name meant that you were just like them.

And how were they going to treat you like nothing, if you were just like them? How were they going to control you fully, if you had a name they couldn’t change? How were they going to imagine you were someone else if you had a name? 

As if you had burnt him, he took a step back. The heavy breaths and tears were usually your roll, not theirs. So you tilted your head, looking at him with curiosity and even though what you have been through. He saw innocent in your eyes. And the next words brought a smile to your face as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

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

They all said the only thing that could save you was an angel. An angel of death. Coming down from the clouds. Swiping you off your feet and taking you far away from everyone. Keeping you safe. 

You have been waiting for that day since you were five. That’s all you wished for. An angel. Kind angel but you never thought if you’d find that angel in the crowd. The crowd that destroyed you. The crowd that took everything from you.

But here he was. Wrapped around you like a safety blanket as a little girl slept next to you. Her tiny hand clenching around one of his long, thin fingers and you smiled as tears pulled in your eyes.

You never thought you would have this. This family. The family that you felt safe in. the family that wouldn’t be taken away from you. 

The feeling of safety was addicting and you didn’t want to let it go. Didn’t even want to think about it being gone. Being taken away from you. 

All you could do was thank Loki. Thank him for being different. For being a real man. 

Four years since you left that hellhole. Since you escaped and you didn’t even want to think back. Remember your past. You don't even know where you would be if it wasn’t for Loki. he was so gentle with you, so caring. 

He thought you how to read. How to write. He would pay an insane amount of money every night, since the first one and sneak in the books and papers for you to learn. He wouldn’t make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with and for the first time in seventeen years you were excited for nights to come. You stepped on that stage with a smile and sparkling eyes. Searching crowd every time until your eyes would settle on your Loki. the fear of him not being there would creep it’s way to your heart but he was always there with a small smile on his face, waiting for you to notice him. 

Nobody cared enough to see your falling in love with a charming boy in the audience. As long as you were paid for they couldn’t care less what you did in that room. It made easier for both of you. He would tell you stories outside this building, what it looked like. How people treated each other. 

It took a little time for him to convince you, that not every man was like ones in the audience. Not every man was cruel and evil. This word wasn’t only filled with darkness. You believed him. You believe him because he was standing in front of you. A different man was standing in front of you. Doing everything you wanted to do, and not him. 

The day he told you, he had a plan for you to escape was the day you first cried in front of him. Tears streaming down your face and him holding you, saying you didn’t have to. But the tears were from happiness. From actually having the opportunity to live a somewhat normal life. That was the day you were happy, for the first time that somebody touched you. That somebody was holding you and you didn’t want it to change for anything. 

You escaped and Loki bought a little place for you. He knew you couldn’t live on your own in a completely different world. So he helped as much as you could. 

It was the first time you had your own room. Which you didn't have to share with anyone. Not with a bunch of girl or man that would disappear in the morning. 

Loki thought you how to cook, how to dress, how to act in front of people. And in no time you were ready to live on your own. You got a job. It didn’t pay much but enough for you to survive. You haven’t even thought about Loki leaving until he brought it up. Until he asked you if you’d like for him to leave. You could hear the sadness in his voice and could see the pleading in his eyes to let him stay. That was the first time you realised you were finally independent. Able to make your own decisions.  You could choose what you wanted. And your first choice was Loki.

A man that did everything you asked. A man that made all of this happen. A man that saved you. You found your angel and you weren't going to let him go.

The excitement, the huge smile and his small thank you made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your heart started pounding and all you wanted to do was to touch him. And you did. The small embrace you gave Loki was all he needed. All he ever wanted. It was all he ever wished for. You, not being afraid to touch him.

Life with Loki was the best thing that had ever happened to you. The light touches and shy smiles lasted for two years. Both of you knew how much you liked each other but you weren't ready and Loki wasn’t about to push you. He waited patiently. You being next to him was enough. More than enough. It was a blessing for him and he wasn't going to ruin it.

The first kiss was as tender as your feelings and as loving as Loki's. You had never been touched that way. That caring, passionate way. Never before have you thought that touch could be this gentle. Never before thought you would enjoy being kissed this much. Leaving you craving for more. This was something new. Something exciting. And your giggles were full of life after small kisses or ones full of adoration. 

Like the kiss was your first time with him. You didn’t plan it but you weren't going to stop. Every time he looked at you for permission your heart would swell and you did everything in your power not to start crying right then and there. You had never in your life being more in control than that night. Loki only did things you wanted. Pleasing you the way you didn’t even know excited. Making you fall for him harder every time he looked you over to see any sign of discomfort but there was none. 

You have been blessed and the little precious gift that was left in you after that night made your life perfect. 

Thoughts about having a child completely changed in you as you couldn’t wait to see your little baby. A baby of a man you loved and actually wanted a family with. Not some wealthy disgusting stranger. But a caring, loving man that you knew would be with you no matter what. No matter how you changed.

The baby came and your life had never been more flawless. If this was what everyone else felt outside than no wonder they loved living so much. The happiness that settled in your heart was permanent and you wouldn’t trade it. For anything. 

If those years were the price you paid for this amazing life, you were more than grateful you went through it. It was hard and ruthless. It made you question everything. It made you want to stop living but this. This thing was beautiful. And you were thankful for your hard years because the man you found it that audience was the reason to live.

“Thank you.” you whispered trying not to wake the crybaby up. 

“No.,” he said as a light kiss was planted on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

You smiled as the tears slid down your cheeks. Turning around, you hugged him tightly. He rubbed your back as you buried your head in his chest.

He was really here. Your angel was here. And you were saved.

[legaleaglefeathers]

dear toonblr: please stop playing operation dessert storm and/or toontown offline

made a post on my main that got me into a brainset.  so, can yall for the love of god NOT play operation: dessert storm, or tt offline?

im putting this under a cut for triggering content (transphobia/rape) apologies in advance bc i dont have a lot of screenshots bc im not usually the person to write these kinds of posts, but im no bullshitter when it comes to this kind of thing.

also i dont care if the people im talking about here see this. it’s time to pay for your transgressions, you fucking cowards.

Disyer (the creator of ODS) is a major transphobe. dude slings “tr*p” around all the time (and NOT in reference to the gag track). he also deadass hoped i got raped by “tr*nny cock” after i quit working for toontown offline. i’m a lesbian so like, cool, double transphobic and lesbophobic rape threat, cool awesome epic greattttt :/

ODS also has had artists such as meirupo/arabesco/cookiepwee/m-256/factory_standard/whatever the fuck their 2374129038472193 other usernames are work for them. the two of them are girlfriends and are pretty much a package, so it’s really really easy to get who’s who confused. 

but i do know theyve drawn like, rape fetish shit w/toons and cogs. its fucking nastyyyyyy. one of them has also drawn straight up porn of the corporate clash chairman. i wish i could bleach that shit from my brain.

they’re also both incredibly transphobic, but that’s a can of worms for a different post because this is about shit that happened to me.

anyway, you may recognize one of them as “wendy pillownose” from TF19′s art contest.

these three have all done work for toontown offline, as well. TTOFF is a major hellhole and i just. implore that you don’t support them either. it’s a literal toxic fucking wasteland. this post is kind of short and more or less a vent more than a proper callout but, yknow.

i know ive broiled about this shit a lot on discord but ive never solidly put it down in a tumblr post, so if yall could share it thatd be kind of lit.

i’m not really part of the tt fandom anymore but i dont want those new to it to fall down the same toxic waste holes i did. everything here is just barely scraping the surface of the shit these people have done.

so tldr: dont play ODS or TTOFF. shitty people made them.

(as for ttoff though, like, dont shit on the WHOLE team. some very very kind and wonderful people were also part of the project, like john cote, ryno, and myself, but it took me a while to realize it was not a good environment. it’s a mixed bag of folks, but in the end.... eeeeegh.)

[kekekentyuh]

The Quirks and Qualms of Online Class

The global pandemic terrorizing us as of the moment has taken so much of our lives when limited social contact was introduced. Preventing the virus from spreading further has reduced our lives to crumbs, robbing a lot of us of the chance to create a better life for ourselves in the outside world, forcing us to powerlessly retreat within the walls of our homes. And sadly, to say the very least, even the education system wasn’t safe from the Corona effect.

Remote learning seems to be the next logical step that most academic institutions can come up with because of the whole social distancing thing. For a while, it was a step so many dreaded to take because of how evident it was that it was just a disaster begging to take place — the countless government officials continuously campaigning to push through with the academic year weren’t of good help either — although it eventually arrived to a point where it was the only thing they could think of. Some have already opted to use this means of providing as early as April to finish off the previous school year, or summer semesters in some university constituents, all in little steps, but in general, we all know how it is: this type of learning is new to most of us, especially for those of us who are used to face to face learning, and we’re all learning to adjust to it while we’re still contained indoors.

The university I attend already had us undergo the whole process of online learning during our Midyear semester last June, where we took a couple of subjects that we were supposed to enroll in for the summer had the world not gone batshit crazy, opting only to open the possibility of attending that midyear semester for those who are required to do so in their respective course program curricula. We held synchronous online sessions via Zoom, where meetings were recorded for everyone's access, making for more accessible resources for note-taking, and used the online learning platform Canvas as pilot testers (both accounts provided by the university itself along with our emails) that we utilized for transfer of information, like learning materials and paperless, digital submissions, generally, and it all seemed to work, for a term that lasted a month maximum. But even before it began, I had a lot of qualms and reservations, particularly on how it’s all going to play out, and how it’s going to affect my performance and my academic standing, because up to that point, I’ve never taken any class or required academic sessions within virtual online learning platforms (not that I was happy while I was taking it, anyway; it’s a hellhole waiting to burst like a pimple). And that was just for a Midyear semester, which was four weeks at most; given how they’re planning to have this coming regularly-paced semester (shortened for the purpose of everyone’s convenience, although I’m pretty sure that’s going to do more harm than benefit, especially for students) purely on remote learning accords, we have no idea how we’re all going to take it on, not with major subjects and a lot of skill-based outputs being asked of us, which are probably much, much heavier than the countless submissions we had to do previously. 

But you know what the boomers think: it’s all better than letting the school year just fly away, they didn’t have access to privileges like this so we’d better put up with it. Go now, plan later; and to that, I say one thing — you can’t stop a runaway train.

Even though one month of putting up with this mess is probably just a rough estimate of just how grueling an entire semester online is going to be, I would like to share a few of the things that I’ve noticed about remote learning that are not so great, and, to be completely unbiased, fine by my own judgment. I’m going to use the experiences me and my fellow Biology majors had whilst taking them to truly evaluate how effective it is for university students here in the Philippines, all with the company of you, my dear readers. This is, however, limited to the things we’ve experienced, and may vary for different situations, like from the point of view of a faculty member or a student of a different school, so please, take all of this with a grain of salt. We have no idea if things are going to play out exactly like they did previously, but it’s good to know a few things to prepare ourselves, right? Consider this as sort of a primer — from one lousy college student to another. If we’re going to deal with this bullshit, we’re going to look at it together. 

For starters, remote learning is kind of energy efficient — and when I say that, I don’t mean chill. God, no; it’s anything but. The main thing I really like about learning from home is that it saves us a lot more time and physical energy than how much we usually need to attend face to face classes. It’s a very striking point, and I’m sure some may see it beneficial, especially those who still need to put up with the commute to go on campus. We don’t have to worry more about budgeting our time between classes and activities outside, like what time we’d have to wake up so we can have more time to get ready for our day ahead, or where to eat and what to wear to go out. We can wear home clothes while attending classes (not like your clothes even matter, anyway; at least not in UP) and don’t have to deal with the headaches and heartburns you get when you try commuting in the Metro, since we’re all just indoors. And let’s not forget, for someone who attends a university situated in the middle of a bustling city with people of all shapes and sizes that you can never trust, being confined to our homes means we are in a much safer environment, where we wouldn’t have to worry about being robbed every fifteen seconds or won’t have to look twice so every passing vehicle gets a lesser chance of ejecting us off the street. We’re all sitting within the walls of our homes, so we have lesser things to worry about logistically, so to speak. Besides, stepping outside is even more of a risk now than ever, and making available materials to access at home may reduce the probability of that risk getting the best of us, so at least that’s out of the way, like it’s supposed to be.

One thing that also struck me about remote learning is how it’s heavily dependent on how you pace your studies and work. Since your learning environment consists mostly of you and the digital materials, apart from the synchronous classes some professors require, a lot of the time, the way you’re going to deal with this is mainly on how you decide to work on it and how your pace with regards to taking everything on would be, and since there are scheduled deadlines and exams, and you can’t afford to lose any of your precious time monkeying around, albeit the hard way, you’ll definitely learn to manage your time on your own. It’s not completely individual, as there were still group tasks and outputs to be submitted as a unit, but since you’re all alone in your workspace, it’ll all depend on how well you manage to properly do these requirements. Time management is a key factor in college, or in any school level setting really, a skill better than any studying technique you will ever come across, since it helps a student tackle the countless loads of work being tossed their way without it stacking up to immediate doom, and remote learning prompts one to find the method that allows one to work with the flow the easiest — kind of like the perfect key to crank up an engine.

But the thing about remote learning is, for a whole student system not entirely prepared and properly equipped for it, the cons outweigh the pros — by about a mile.

To put it simply, limited contact is much more stressful in the parts of those who are actually involved in the setup, which are, primarily, the student and the teacher. Home environments, right up the first bullet, are not all conducive learning environments. This is entirely dependent on various factors, which may range from more personal ones, like unfavorable familial setups or various distractions at home, or more logistical ones, like the location of the home itself, all contributing to numbers and numbers of disruptive tendencies, none of which are under the child’s control, which may result to their lack of focus or increased anxiety. Home environments are not made for learning, unlike schools and universities where students are free to study without any distractions, and this may hold back the smooth process of their learning if continuous and entirely destructive — and there’s nothing the students nor the instructors can do about it but stress out. The number one most notorious culprit of them all, undeniably, would be the alarmingly appalling mediocrity of the Internet connection the majority has access to, which, on particularly bad days, may result to unfavorable situations almost unexpectedly, like constantly being cut off from the session and unclear instructions from professors, mostly, who have unfavorable access to the Internet themselves. The constant unannounced power cutoffs in some parts of the country (which is, personally, my biggest qualm and pet peeve that I have developed during quarantine) would come in at a close second, especially since a lot of these blackouts have no given range, much to the dismay of the consumers. On top of these are some unexpected inconveniences, like glitchy learning environments and faulty instructor-to-student communication, brought by lack of time synchronization, mostly, that may not seem like much, but can make this whole experience a whole lot shittier than it actually is. 

And what’s even more stressful is the few solutions to these problems can all but do so much; mobile data as a substitute for WiFi connections can only give us so much with promos and the money it costs, but in the end, it’s still no match for the data requirements synchronous meeting platforms like Zoom or Google Meet require, so it’s best to just skip the class than waste your time and data trying to reconnect. Instructor-prepared course packs, which contain all materials needed for the subject, definitely designed to cater to students who lack the resources to make it to online classes, may work, but there’s still a lot of considerations that need to be made for their evaluations, which, preferably, need to match with the rest of the class they’re in. I know — no one wins here, except probably only the officials of our crappy Internet providers, happy that they still have a lot of people to leech out of.

The curriculum of the various degree programs students are enrolled in are at stake, because so much adjustments need to be done in order for them to be suitable for the online setting that they all, well, don’t feel like genuine learning methods anymore. Skill-based programs, like mine in Biology, for example, are particularly affected by these changes, since the materials and the opportunities for us to learn the skills we need for our degree are out there: at the labs, at the campus, out at the world. The pertinence of the development of methods to teach these practical courses with limited contact cannot be denied, but actually fulfilling those requirements physically and learning them with your own experience is something with much more impact, and that can’t be denied, too. The limits imposed on learning these necessarily skills will also limit the students to what they’re being given; if they’re given half the materials to make a bun of bread, they’ll only come up with half of that bun, because they’re given so limited resources. We don’t even know how lab classes will take place — how are we supposed to be sure we’re going to learn from them? Not only that, but the curriculum coming to play is at stake, too; take synchronous evaluation procedures, for instance. Does anyone want to take a quiz or an exam with relentlessly flopping Internet, with electrical power that plays Russian Roulette every single day of the year? Of course not, because you want to do as well as you possibly can in this exam. Do you want to wake up to a blaring, incomplete grade because the assignment file you’ve busted your ass for just didn’t make it through the portal, although you swore to your underwear drawer that you did? Of course not, and that’s why checking the submission box three times is almost nothing. So much of the learning process is being compromised and limited by a lot of factors outside of our control, it’s almost impossible to bounce back into the much-favored learning headspace we all desire to be in. We’re spending so much time worrying about not being able to learn because of so many things around us glitching that we lose, albeit gradually, our focus on actually learning.

These factors all narrow down to one big boulder about to trample one smacking detail within us: our mental health. It’s already bad enough that we’re dealing with the health crisis erupting everywhere around us, a health crisis that doesn’t seem to want to tone down anytime soon, and hearing and seeing so much of the tragedy it’s bringing to our country continuously, but we have to also constantly worry about whether or not we’re learning the right things or submitting the right things on time and still making sure we’re doing our best despite all of it. Imagine the constant anxiety and the rigid schedule of a regular semester multiplied thrice, all dumped online — with a few adjustments here and a few tweaks there, but almost inaccessible to some, and too much for many. You're not even sure, at any given point within the months-long span of supposed learning, if you're doing it to actually absorb the knowledge, or just fulfilling it because it's a requirement, and just hurriedly making sure everything is taken care of because you don't have any more energy to drag it on longer. That’s how mentally draining it is. And I get that I might be exaggerating (I have an underlying tendency to do so; forgive me, my bad) but who’s to say that it may not ring true for some? If you’re anything like me, who finds comfort in the company of peers, in the little things like building a routine and sticking to it, distracting yourself with new, uncharted things every day, and managing your stress outside the confinements of a house, then it’s probably taking a huge toll on you, too. 

But all that’s nothing compared to those directly affected by the pandemic, like the family members of healthcare workers, those whose main modes of making a living were laid off due to contact protocols, and, most importantly, those who lost so many people dear to them because of a virus no one can contain. I can’t explain how much my heart cracks in my chest when I see a student looking to social media to ask for a means to fund his schooling, or when a person I rarely know is knocking to ask for a few pesos to get their ailing family members through. Remote learning, online classes, really, would work just fine — if you belong above that margin. If you have access to resources without going scathed, have nothing else to do but focus on what’s important for you, and leave the rest of the world outside your door. The exclusivity of remote learning is striking, and it’s extremely absurd how much people want to push through with it despite so many consequences for so many unwilling benefactors  — six million children, to be exact — left behind. Children should never have to beg, lose themselves, or destroy themselves to be able to learn, because it’s their right to be given a chance to be the best they can by pursuing this education to the fullest extent. Apparently many people disagree.

Let me call remote learning for what it really is — a temporary aid, unsustainable way of dragging the students to uncharted waters. It’s a band-aid solution, meant to temporarily do what needs to be done while the future is still unknown. So many calls to stop the year from coming up have been put out there, as well as so much postponing and halting of the flow of inconcrete plans, promising to improve, but time and time again, to nothing; and amid so many calls for help, just within the education sector, there has been no reliable answer. Academic Freeze, which aims to halt the school year altogether, is not a plausible way of resolving this, as it is only student centered; although it may be beneficial for us, a lot of employees in the education system may lose their modes of income as well, which may lead to a shortcoming in their part. But given that, we also cannot turn our backs from the fact that so much of the student population, almost six million, will not be able to enroll, because education is a right that every child must be given, and if one child deserves to go on studying, they all deserve to. And postponing the opening of the academic year and delaying what is to come can only do so much.

Contain the pandemic — that’s the answer. If this administration, particularly the department concerned with this issue, truly cares about the rights of every Filipino to quality, equitable, culture-based and complete basic education, then they’ll take the necessary steps to put an end to this and protect not only those rights, but, to the administration itself, the welfare of their people.

Delaying the problem isn’t putting an end to it, because what’s only slowing down is going to gain momentum later on.

So many thoughts and so many words! What did you think about these experiences? And if your’re from the Philippines, what do you think about the Department of Education’s response to this rising concern? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Let me know by reaching me through the Inquiries page, or through my social media here I'd love to hear from anybody!

Like always, I wish everyone is doing well, being safe and secure, and in good health! I hope everyone is taking care of themselves by sanitizing and garnering a healthy lifestyle! It means a lot to me that you're here reading. Thanks for staying, and I’ll see you on the next one!

[themaskedwriter]

To Bucky With Love

Clues

Despite considering Marvel one of my main fandoms, my url was based on a certain show about two brothers hunting supernatural creatures for a long time.

My first language is not English and I’ve only been writing on here for a bit over two years.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Finding yourself travelling back to all the places your relationship with Bucky went through big changes, you send letters to the one you love, reminiscing in everything you went through together.

Warnings: Guns, injuries, a bit of blood and cursing. Cursive is the letter, the rest is the flashback.This is also the first part of a new series which will be continued on my account :)

Word Count: 2772

Dear Bucky, it’s been about a week since I left home. My first destination had to be the place where we met for the first time…well, the place where we were forced to spend time together. I remember the mission like it just happened yesterday, the way our eyes met during the fight, the way your body shielded mine and the way I dragged you through the streets of Jujuy. I hate you so much back then, I hated the fact that you single-handedly ruined my mission just to prove yourself. God, how much I wanted to kill you back then…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Barnes. What the hell are you doing here?” you snapped at the brunette man that stood across from you, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes as his face was illuminated by the computer screens that covered the wall next to you.

“I’m doing my job, doll, just as you should be doing,” he replied, raising his brows in challenge.

As you were about to open your mouth to reply to the agent in front of you, you heard a low moan coming from your right, seeing the man on the ground reach for his gun. Without hesitation both Bucky and you raised your guns, your bullets hitting the centre of his head before he slumped backwards, finally out cold.

Huffing you strapped your gun back into its holster, “What even is your mission? What could possibly be more important than blowing this base into pieces?”

“I’m looking for a man. Drug-dealer, high risk. Has been killing everyone that got in his way for the last 20 years. Eduardo Lòpez, ever heard of him?”

You quickly nodded your head as your eyes scanned the room before settling on the man in front of you, “You are aware of the fact that he’s not in Argentina right now, yes?”

Bucky’s expression wavered, his lips pursing as he reached up to scratch his jaw, his eyes flickering away from you.

“I can’t believe it. You’re manipulating my entire mission, risking my life while you’re at it just for a single person that’s not even in this goddamn country! Low blow, Barnes, low blow. If you have a problem with me, you better say it now before I accidentally shot you and leave you in this facility before I blow it up,” you jabbed your finger into his firm chest, your anger rising with every passing second, the smug smile that returned onto Bucky’s face only aggravating you even more.

Before Bucky got to send another comeback into your direction the door to the monitoring room flew open, revealing several agents with their guns pointed at you.

“Lower your weapons and raise your hands, now,” the broad-shouldered man in front yelled at you in Spanish.

Raising your hands you slowly reached for your gun, pulling out of its holster and getting ready to place it on the floor in front of you. Glancing over to Bucky you met his eyes, nodding your head ever so slightly before quickly aiming your gun at the men, shooting two of them before kicking a chair in their direction to throw them off guard. Dropping beneath one of the many tables you crawled towards the door, hoping the guards would run towards you, which, luckily, they did, allowing you to shot them from close distance before you hurried through the door, Bucky leaning against the wall opposite of it, his hand pressed against his side, blood seeping through the space between his fingers. Once you were through the metal door you quickly kicked it shut, lifting the chair you had previously kicked in the direction of it against the door, locking the remaining guards inside and hopefully giving you at least some time to get out of the hallway and into a safer part of the facility.

“You okay?” you panted, pressing your hands to your knees as you leaned against the wall to catch your breath.

“Could be better,” Bucky huffed before removing his hand from the bullet wound on his side, taking a look at it just to press his hand back against it.

Looking left and right you made sure no one was entering the hallway you were in as you took a few steps towards the agent that had successfully ruined your mission, “We need to get you to a doctor. Come, I know a way out of here.”

“Well…that didn’t go as smoothly as I planned,” you tried to chuckle but all that came out were raspy breaths and your squeaky voice as you pressed yourself against the white wall of the hallway, bullet firing against the wall opposite of you, coming from where you were just standing a few seconds ago.

“Oh, you don’t say?” Bucky glanced at you from the other side of the stream of bullets flying your way.

You tried to fire your gun at the approaching guards but all you managed to do was hit the walls and floor, not having any sight on your targets.

“Do you have one of those explosives left?”

Patting down your body you soon found the device, pulling it out you held it up for Bucky to see, “Yeah, but I was planning to save this for getting us out of here.”

“To get out of here we need to survive first, doll, this might be our only way,” he yelled as the sounds of guns grew louder, the guards getting closer and closer to you by the second.

“Ugh, fine,” you groaned as you got ready to toss the explosive in the hallway to your right.

“Ready?”

You waited for Bucky to nod before you threw the little device as far as you could without properly aiming, hoping and praying to every divine force that it wouldn’t miss its mark. Crossing your fingers you began counting in your head.

One.

Two.

Three.

BOOM.

The red emergency light immediately went off, the alarm loud and shrill in your ears as you risked a glance into the hallway you threw the explosive into only to be greeted by the sight of bloodied and hurt guards laying scattered on the floor, rubble and debris covering most of the floor, leading to the gaping hole in the wall.

“Let’s go.”

Before you could react Bucky took your hand into his, dragging you towards your way outside of this hellhole, climbing over the guards and rubble in your way until you finally felt the warm breeze from outside brush against your dusty face.

“Finally,” you mumbled to yourself as your feet hit the green grass outside of the facility, casting a glance upwards to wait for Bucky to drop down beside you.

As soon as you heard the low thud of his feet colliding with the ground you began moving, eager to get out of this godforsaken place and away from the agent that ruined your mission. Just as you wanted to tell him to hurry up you felt his body colliding with yours, “Watch out!”

You heard the sound of the gunshot even before your body hit the ground, Bucky falling down somewhere beside you as you reached for one of your guns, firing it in the direction of the shots while hoping your bullet wouldn’t miss.

Risking a look you saw the machine gun slip from the guards hands, his body collapsing and falling out of the whole you had crawled through just a few moments before, allowing you to stand back up, brushing the dust from your pants while keeping your gun firmly in your hand in case of another unfortunate mishap.

“Alright, Barnes. Ready to get-“

The words you wanted to say got stuck in your mouth once you saw Bucky laying on the ground beside you, blood pooling around his thigh as he clutched his hand to the wound on his side.

“No. No, no, no. Goddammit, Barnes!”

“Come on, Barnes, we gotta get moving. I’m not letting you die in the middle of the street,” you hissed as you dragged the agent with you, one of his arms slung across your shoulders while the other continued to press against the bullet wound on his side.

“Oh, but you’re willing to let me die anywhere else?” he grunted out, his feet dragging over the uneven and bumpy pavement beneath you, stumbling over a loose stone.

Speeding up your steps you silently cursed him out, “Continue talking like that and I might just leave you right here.”

“You wouldn’t, doll, try explaining that to everyone back home.”

“Oh…for fuck’s sake. Just shut up,” you groaned, completely fed up with him.

First, he decided to ruin your mission, which was going perfectly smooth until he came crashing through the door, guns blazing, causing all sorts of hell to break loose and then he had the audacity to get shot, forcing you to ditch any sort of plan you had and improvise your way out. Your mission was supposed to be easy, sneak in, get the data, plant the explosives and get back out. But no, Mister Metal Arm had to ruin it for you. And then he even dared to push you to put of harm’s way, leaving you to drag him through the abandoned streets of the outskirts of San Salvador de Jujuy, your broken phone clutched in one hand while you were desperately looking for a way to get Bucky patched up.

Every house you passed seemed abandoned, the windows barricaded and dust collecting on their sills when you finally saw a single person at the end of the road, the woman idly sweeping the dirt and dust off her entrance, the windows of her house open and inviting. Letting out a sigh in relief at the sight of her you sped up your steps, Bucky barely being able to keep up with you but that didn’t matter to you in that moment, desperate to get off the street and take care of his wounds.

“Excuse me, señora? Please, we need help,” you asked in Spanish, not wanting to force her to adjust to a foreigner.

The woman looked up at you, her eyes widening at the sight of two beaten up agents at her doorsteps, before she quickly opened the door for you, ushering you inside as she locked the door and closed the curtains.

“Gracías.”

Dropping Bucky on the floor you took off your heavy gear, kneeling down beside him to take a look at the damage in front of you. Carefully you ripped off Bucky’s shirt, your hands hovering over the bullet wound before you collected yourself, your training reminding you of what to do in a situation like this.

“Could we get-“

Before you could finish your question she kneeled down beside you with a wet towel in her hands, holding it for you to take. Throwing a quick smile in her direction you took it out of her hands and began wiping away the blood that coated Bucky’s skin. Just as you wanted to ask for a needle and a threat the woman in front of you offered to you just what you needed. With shaking hands you tried to stitch up the wound on his side but as the adrenaline slowly wore off you couldn’t help but feel the effect of the past few hours get to you. A hand on your shoulder ripped you out of your thoughts, the woman whose place you crashed gently pushing you aside and taking the utensils from your hands, getting to work on Bucky’s injury, the man grunting slightly as the needle pierced through his skin.

“I-We’re sorry for barging in on you…”

“Maria, my name’s Maria. And you’re more than welcome here, child,” she said while quickly finishing the stitches.

Hours later you were both sitting on Maria’s couch, Bucky more slouched against the back to go easy on his treated wounds, both of you eating Empanadas while you explained your situation to her. You were left in a country you weren’t familiar with, no backup on their way to get you out of the small town and no way of contacting them since your communication devices got destroyed in the fight. Fortunately for you, Maria was familiar with injured people crashing at her place, whether it was kids that scraped their knees or adults with serious problems, she was the one everyone consulted first; that was until people started to move away due to the treat of Eduardo Lòpez and his gang as well as the Hydra base close by.

“You need to rest before you’re going anywhere on your own,” Maria scolded you both as you bought up the topic of getting back home, her eyes lingering especially on Bucky who was trying to stay awake, not showing in how much pain he was in.

“Do you have a phone I could borrow, so I can contact a friend to pick us up?” you asked, worried about your fellow agent, even if you never worked with him before, him basically behind a stranger to you, you still cared about him. He saved your life after all, and he seemed nice enough, the fact that he wasn’t bad to look at was only another nice extra.

“Sure, follow me.”

Maria led you into her kitchen, handing you her phone before grabbing a glass of water and some painkillers to give to Bucky before heading back into the living room, leaving you alone in her kitchen.

You dialled the number you knew like the back of your hand, tapping your foot as you waited for the person on the other end to pick up the phone.

“Romanov.”

“Oh, thank god, Nat. We’re stranded in Jujuy in Argentina and I can’t make contact with anyone else since my phone got hit. Can you get us out of here?”

“Wait, wait, who’s ‘us’? I thought you went on a solo mission,” your close friend and mentor asked at the other end of the line.

Sighing you ran a hand over your face, “Bucky Barnes. He…kinda ruined my mission and got shot in the process. We found shelter at the place of a local but we don’t wanna bother her too much.”

You could hear some papers being moved around, the clicking of a keyboard and Natasha speaking to someone through the phone before she picked it back up, “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Do you have your coordinates? I’ll try to get to you as soon as possible.”


“Thank you, Nat,” you sighed in relief, happy someone would get you back home soon.

“No problem. Oh, and (Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favour and punch Barnes for me. Also, tell him to get his shit together, he’ll know what that means,” Natasha chuckled slightly before saying her goodbye, prompting you to hang up the phone and give it back to Maria who was leaning against the doorframe to her living room.

“You are more than welcome to stay until your friend picks you up,” she smiled at you.

After heading back to the living room you let yourself fall onto the sofa next to Bucky, softly punching his arm.

“Hey! What’s that for?”

You shrugged as you leaned back against the back of the couch, tugging your feet underneath you, “From Natasha. She also told me to tell you to, and I’m quoting her here, ‘get your shit together’. Apparently, you’ll know what that means.”

I didn’t thank you enough for what you did back then because even though you ultimately ruined my mission you also saved my life, and made it less miserable by stepping into it. For all I know, it was Nat who just set it up but even if it was all her planning, I’m happy things went the way they did. You were willing to sacrifice your life for me without even knowing me and for that, I will be grateful until the day I die.

I’m gonna stay with Maria these next few days, her arms have welcomed me once again. She was beyond sad to hear that you wouldn’t be making it but she gave me some Empanadas for me to take back home.

Home. I won’t be home for some time.

Anyways, I’m gonna write you another letter from my next destination, the city we had our first date in. Oh, I still remember how nervous I was. But that’s for the next letter.

I love you and I can’t wait to see you again, (Y/N)

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Busy Earning (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 1.)

Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert would have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

A/N: If you're not familiar with Borderlands, this series will most probably won't make any sense to you. But that's alright! I am thinking about releasing a small thing called Vault Hunters Vocabulary and I will try to explain the lore and everything used IN the story but not explained in there. Whaddaya say?

A/N 2: Also, I AM MAKING NEW-U STATIONS LEGAL AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME. So I guess this is an AU? ALSO: the Bandits, Psychos, and Fanatics will speak only in the ancient language of Vine!

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They're badass and don't give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always.

Word count: 4.5 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​

Series master list:  H E R E

It was one of those days when you took a deep breath and it almost burns your whole mucous membrane. Most of the days were like that in this particular part of Pandora, yet some of these days were too much. The desert around you was dry, the rocks were so hot that you'd burn your whole palm if you'd touch it. No plants or water source insight; it was just you, the asphalt road, the heatwave, and the complete silence.

If you wouldn't be aware of sweating like a living fuck and of the fact that your trousers were pretty bloody then, you'd most likely have the suspicion that you most likely just pissed yourself. On the other hand, you also knew that you had to be dressed from your head to your toes - if you wouldn't have every inch of your body covered, the sun would burn your skin down in a matter of minutes; that was how strong the sunlight was. It wasn't the most practical choice to cross the desert in a long coat, long boots, and a huge cowboy hat; it was, in fact, very much impractical, but you really didn't have much of a choice. That big, cowboy-ish hat became your personal trade over time - you were easily recognizable. If someone would've asked you to describe your personality, the hat itself would be one of your personality traits. Ever since you started wearing it, almost everyone was calling you the Cowboy, even if you were pretty sure that you're a woman. Why would you or any of the people you've been living in this hellhole with being obeying any of society's rules if you were leaving at the edge of civilization itself? Something like grammar and other constructs didn't have any value in the world you knew and were living in.

Back to you. You were pissed at the moment; very pissed. For some random reason, the Catch-A-Ride station near your house was off for the last three weeks and anyone cared enough to repair it. You were hunting Skags for a living and believe it or not, having the chance to get a functioning car was making your job very much enjoyable. But because anything could work on Pandora, you had to hunt down two Skags and drag them to the man living in the nearest town, where you had your contract signed.

Every single morning, you had to get up super-early to track some pack down, hunt at least two of these animals, and then drag the dead bodies through the entirety of the desert. That was the pain in your ass. To drag two damn heavy animals in that goddamn weather. Not that you had a chance refuse to hunt for that day - the meat was rotting quickly in this part of the planet and also, Pintley had quite a lot of customers he had to feed - you being one of the said customers. Also, funny enough, there wasn't that much meat on Skags. It was a doubtful business, to say the least.

A sudden, quiet mechanical noise threw you out of the train of your thoughts. It was easy to tell what was the problem since you could feel your right shoulder tensing up. - "Please no, please no." - You mumbled as you felt your right arm getting stuck and letting the bag go. A hiss left your lips as you felt the metal limb giving you a slight electric shock, sending it down your body. You sighed and sat down on one of the dead Skag's body, carefully taking the coat off just enough to reach the small panel, so you wouldn't tear the arm of your body. It took you almost half an hour of sitting there with a small wrench in your hand as you re-organized the small cabled inside as the metal whole arm was made of got hotter and hotter. Just a small moment longer and you'd burn your damn fingers.

In the end, you somehow managed to connect all the cables on the upper arm and attached the small piece of metal back on its spot again, rolling the coat back on your shoulder so it would cool down a bit. You were good to go again, so you took the bags your Skags were put in and walked forward again, dragging the corpses on the road behind you. At least, the buildings of that God abandoned city could be seen in the distance.

Hell's Cauldron. That was the name the locals gave it. The barely-a-town was raided by the bandits so often that they became more of your neighbors and maybe even friends over time. You knew a mentally unstable bandit named Bernie, who sometimes gave you a drive home - a ride from a Psycho was never a good one, but do as they say and don't look on the teeth of a horse that was given to you. You also became friends with Blind Billy, who was a better driver than Bernie and his one-man crew. This psycho was the man who always tried to buy your Skags. But you were persistent against selling them for Eridium.

Just as you thought of your favorite boys, the roar of their car could be heard in the distance as the machine got closer and closer. You smiled when you heard the sounds of their cars; they were very specific sounds breaking the utter silence around. The cars themselves were... Something. It wasn't a model rentable in Catch-A-Ride stations, so their cars were working just right at the moment. Also, this meant that you wouldn't have to the last few miles on foot, which would be simply great.

"Y/N!" - It was Billy's voice that could behear through speakers placed on the back of their car. In the next moment, the machine stopped next to you. You gave him a smirk and a nod through one of the windows. - "Ya still huntin' down those bunnies, ha? Come in, Cowboy girl, we'll give you a ride, whatcha say?" - The man opened up the door and invited you in. You gladly accepted and gave him the first bag containing a dead animal so he'd help you with dragging it inside the back of the car. Blindy threw it on the ground next to two benches before giving you a hand to drag you in as well.

"I guess I do, yeah. You know, Blindy, everybody needs a way to survive. You rob and kill, and I hunt. Everyone's doing great." - With a sigh, you sat on one of the only clean spots on the bench, getting a hold of it as you felt the engine shaking with the entire car.

"TO HELL'S CAULDRON YOU FUCKING DEADBRAIN!" - Billy yelled into the microphone so it could be heard at least miles from you. The car started so abruptly that it almost knocked you to the ground. - "Ya still don't wanna gimme one of those delicious creatures? I'm sick of eating bugs and sometimes people, when necessary, of course." - Billy asked and dragged his hand along one of the Skag's body. You were disgusted to say at least, but you also were careful enough not to display it in your expression. In the end, there was nothing to wonder about - these men were classified psychopaths.

"We've talked about this more than once, Blindy. Pay me the cash and I will give you one. If you don't want to pay for the work... Well..." - You laughed and touched the Jacobs shotgun attached to your back, sending him a clear message. - "Let's say that we've talked about this, shall we?" - "Oh, yea, Cowboy! Do ya get good money from it? I told ya I can pay ya in Eridium." - The psycho smiled and leaned in closer to you. You leaned to him as well, putting your metal palm on his mask.

"Eridium is worth only if I am a siren or if I have someone who deals Eridium to someone else. So... Do I, a), look like an Eridium dealer or do I, b), look like a siren to you?" - Your metal wrist patted the mask, and right after, you leaned away. Billy chuckled at what you've said. Eridium was an extremely valuable material - for some sort of people. If you weren't that sort of person, Eridium were just violet glowy stones in your eyes. Why would you even need that shit in this hole? The most ridiculous thing in this matter was the fact that psychos of Ham's Creek had a ton of Eridium on them; piles, probably. Hyperion jerks excavated many shafts in the proximity of your homes before they left; and while Hyperion guys were gone, the Eridium was still there and ready to get mined. You've heard that the guys from Ham's Creek, the bandit colony, were trading the stones to doubtful people for less than half of its value... But who were you to judge them? You were all doubtful people, you were all doing shady things. Any of you could be considered innocent.

"You may not be a siren, but you're ma muse in everythin' I do, Cowboy." - Blindy chuckled as the car stopped right in front of Hell's Cauldron's pub. There were seven more buildings in the city if you counted the toilette cab...  The least pleasurable place in the proximity of fifty miles radius. - "Don't ever dare to repeat that, dear God. If you do, Imma shoot your ass off, okay?" - Your laughter filled the air as you watched Blindy and Rayray dragging Skags into the local.

"I SMELL LIKE BEEF!" - Rayray yelled and threw the Skag body next to the bar. It was a greeting, a very polite one if you might add. Rayray was still learning how to grasp the rules of being police and sometimes, he really hit the ballpark. With a small smile, you entered the pub as well and nodded at Pintley, the local pub keeper, who shrugged his shoulders. - "You've been making the boys busy again, Cowboy?" - Pintley, an old man with white hair and a missing eye, asked kindly and controlled the Skag. One day, Billy's crew accidentally took out a bag with a dead human body instead of the Skag one and when Pintley wanted to cook his famous Skag goulash, he almost threw up. This time, it was really the dead animal.

"Oh, yea. And I would get the bags to the freezer as soon as possible, it is probably already grilled at this point." - With a grunt, you finally took off the coat as you leaned into and took your enormous hat off to look at Pinty. The man was still looking at the animals, trying to set an amount of cash to pay for this catch. - "That's fifty dollars for each one of them... Maybe even sixty, they're huge. Good call today, Cowboy." - He hummed in the end, opening the cash register and handled you the money. It was not much... But it was something at least.

"Something must be happening out there again, huh?" - It was a quiet, suggestive mumble as you looked at the banknotes in your palm. Pintley asked a silent "What?" because he hadn't heard about anything going on. - "I mean... Marcus Munitions charges for bullets are off the charts since Jack had... You know." - You peeked behind the bar, pointing at a slice of bread. Without you having to pay for it, Pintley gave it to you to chew on it.

To your surprise, Blind Billy nodded at you as he too leaned into the countertop. Even the bandits of Ham Creek could see that something's going on when they were buying their bullets for another raid - it cost almost two hundred dollars more. All of the things you've mentioned happened over five years ago, maybe even more. Handsome Jack, the CEO of Hyperion, was allegedly murdered by Lilith and the Crimson Raiders of Sanctuary. Since then, Hyperion Corporation was filled with social climbers who tried to become the new CEO - but before everything ended, Elpis' lunar station Helios was blown up, meaning that the days of Hyperion ruling over Pandora were over. Not that any of you would particularly care about any of that.

After that, there were some rumors about a new vault key found and about the existence of many new vaults all around Pandora and its sister planets. And as you heard, it was usually a joke, the vault key ended up in a desert where two jackasses found it. That, in fact, led to the creation of a pain in the ass known as 'The Calypso twins' and their cult; the Children of the Vault. Now, allegedly, Crimson Raiders and their leader Lilith had left Pandora and created Sanctuary 3, a spaceship flying on the orbit of Pandora.

Honestly, as far as you cared, all of this could be just a bunch of made-up stories. How the hell were you supposed to know what happened in space or on the other side of the planet? Who were you supposed to be? A fortune-teller? A telepath to know all of these things for certain? There was one sort of people on Pandora about which everyone seemed to forget - normal people. Normal people like you. Yes, people who only tried to live their lives and who owned only one gun existed. People who pursued normal jobs, calm life without all of the vault hunting business.

You've personally never seen the infamous Handsome Jack (only his posters and billboards) or the alleged vault hunters scattering through Pandora, searching for new things to kill and new loot to find. You never have seen Lilith, Roland, or any of the Crimson Raiders with your eyes, nor you've visited Sanctuary, Haven, New Haven, or Helios - and you surely had not visited the Concordia spaceship. You never saw any of those rumors for yourself, thus, you didn't know what was real or fake.

"Look at it like this, Pintley... The Catch-A-Ride stations aren't working in this part of Pandora for God knows how long and now, Marcus is charging up for rounds again? The last time he did that when the last bunch of the vault hunters came to Pandora? I tell you, something's going on." - Now, you rose your eyebrows and stopped everything you were doing. A loud bang blasted through the Hell's Cauldron. There was silence for a moment, but then a loud song started to play. With a long sigh, each of you stood up and grabbed their gun to get ready for a fight. The Children of the Vault decided to pay you a late-afternoon visit.

This, unfortunately, meant a shootout in the middle of the sun-parched square of the Hell's Cauldron just for the laughs. Those guys were just fine most of the time, but on some days, they came to the town and all they wanted to do was fight with guns blazing. By now, you all knew the drill - a short shootout while letting them spawn back in their base and then, you could continue with your daily program.

No matter what you told those jackasses, no matter what you did, no matter anything - they just drove into the sun-parched square and started to shoot. They were idiots without a single functioning brain between them, to say at least. To your good luck, Blindy and Rayray were on your side. These two were pretty reasonable bandits. Billy was also unusually smart for living with psychos, midgets, and more for as long as he did, yet he still kept his brain working.

The shooting which happened in Hell's Cauldron that day was louder than usual. Maybe it was just the way you've been laughing or the COV's new summer playlist, but this one was unusually loud. People were throwing grenades just as they were yelling some nasty words at each other. Some of them dropped dead in a matter of seconds because they were just standing in plain open. A car blew up accidentally, the trunk almost hitting you in your face and the face. When everything was done, there was only you, Rayray, and Pintley standing in the settling dust. You and Pintley were usually a great team - since he had a slag sniper rifle and you had an orange tier Jacobs shotgun, you were good to go any time. The rest of the COVs slowly disappeared - they started spawning at the New-U stations back in their small cultist town fifty miles away from Hell's Cauldron.

But something wasn't right. Blindy was still laying on the ground, bleeding out with a blank stare. His body wasn't moving and there were even small droplets of blood as he coughed before he passed away. This wasn't supposed to happen. As you approached the body, you've been growing through how did you get into the town in the first place. You've driven in our of the eastern exist, which meant you've driven around a checkpoint. That led you to a conclusion that the Hyperion Checkpoint Station, those were all over Pandora, must've written his biometrical data down. Blindy was somewhere inside the database, hidden in the code; but New-U station wasn't, for a reason, reconstructing his physical body.

"What's going on? Why isn't he respawning, Pintley? Don't you tell me that he wasn't registered by the Checkpoint." - Without giving a single fuck about the blood and dust, you kneeled and took off Blindy's mask to look into his scarred, lifeless fave. He wasn't the most handsome lad you've seen, but he had a good heart and that was all you cared about. - "Billy, man, don't you play games with me now. Get the fuck up, man. Come on." - You begged silently. You couldn't lose him because of a routine shootout. You've survived hundreds of these - he was a good bandit, a good friend, and a significantly good gunman.

"I think the New-U is cut out of the electric network, Cowboy." - Pintley yelled at you, while Rayray was opening the database in the Checkpoint station next to the pub. - "We might as well put it back to use. Stop with the nonsense and get to work, come on!"

The New-U stations and Checkpoints were a special thing that Pandora needed to have any population surviving on it. It all started way back when Atlas, Dahl, Hyperion, and many more were supporting the golden era of vault hunting; those hunters got their own Echo devices to stay in touch all the time and in case they'd accidentally die or dismember, the New-U stations were meant to render a new body for them. As soon as you arrived or was born in this sector of the universe, the corporation implanted a chip to the nape of your neck; you wouldn't respawn only in the case someone would be using jammer or took the chip out of your body. There was a whole lot of things that could get you killed - psycho in a bad mood, hungry Skag, angry friend, bad food, accidental fall into a volcano... You could choose, really. Sometimes, it could take a while to respawn, it also cost you some money, and before the transaction was sent... It could be a whole lot at times.

Since there were no laws and anarchy and chaos ruled the planet hand by hand, this system came in handy at all times. The Checkpoint stations were the smaller ones, saving up your data like DNA and memories to have all of your personal information in the systems in case anything happened to you. New-U was able to resurrect a person after paying said charge - they constructed your body from the DNA and cells of your dead body, implanted the memories back into your brain, and even construed the clothes you had on. It was truly a miracle of modern age science - but also a necessity for Pandora and its moon Elpis.

Rayray nodded when he read Billy's name in the database. He was there; he was there, safe and sound. You only had to make the New-U work. Without giving any fuck, you just threw the dead and useless body on the ground, walking to the machine, next to Pintley, to look at the cables leading out of the back of the machine to the charger on the wall.

Luckily, you were quite handy with this sort of stuff. Really, you had to restore the electricity circuits inside your metallic arm; handily, you opened up the machine and started to work on it, searching for the problem. Pintley was kneeling next to you, so you were only telling him what you needed - like a wrench or a hammer - and he fetched it to you. New-U was mostly unused in Hell's Cauldron, so it was really no wonder that it wasn't working; it was out of order for quite some time now. If Blindy wouldn't have died, you wouldn't even notice the malfunctioning machine.

It probably was out of order for the last five years - since the last time Bandits provoked a gunfight was... You couldn't even remember. Maybe, Pintley himself pulled the cables out; you wouldn't let the electricity bill getting bigger if you hadn't need for letting the New-U running, right? The Calypso fanatics couldn't be considered a threat at all. Each of them was dumb and couldn't shoot for shit, so the only ones getting killed were them. Even more so, they usually started to talk about some of their damn fanatic nonsense in the middle of the fight. In the beginning, you listened to those jackshit rambles; then you just murdered them without blinking. It wasn't that easy. Rayray looked at you from the database's screen. Bandits, believe it or not, were sometimes pretty smart. Yes, they had their bright moments. The only thing they couldn't do was to speak like a normal human being.

"THAT HURTS LIKE A BUTTCHEEK ON A STICK!" - Rayray yelled at you and you furrowed - it was too late to stop the respawning process since the machine started barking loudly in front of you as it came back to life. What did he say? Someone else was written down in the system except the normies of Hell's Cauldron? You looked over to the bandit boy, but it was too late to pull the cable; the New-U already started to build a human being. And that person definitely wasn't Billy. You made Pintley step back since he hadn't any gun on him and took out your Jacobs shotgun again, pointing at the stranger. The man, it definitely was a man, was looking at his hands in wonder, opening his palms, closing them right after, playing with his fingers. He slowly pulled an Oz kid used in the vacuum off the back of his head, so he could take some normal, hot breath into his lungs. The breather was old as hell, probably six to seven years to your estimations (given it was an ultra-old Vladof Oz it). Who was that man, you didn't know at all; you just assumed he must've been dead for quite some time.

The Hyperion nice-ass lady was telling him something, but she couldn't quite finish her speech - Billy started rendering right next to the man. You exhaled and thanked God for Billy, but you didn't let the mysterious man go out of your sight - you didn't know who he was, what his intentions were, or if he was a bad guy or not. The only thing you could clearly tell was that the man was super-happy to be alive. "I'm alive! I'm alive! Would ya believe it, man, I'm alive, breathin' and stuff and I'm feelin' just fine!" - The stranger exclaimed and looked over to you. - "Wait... Wait. Man, man, ya not Lilith or Moxxi or one of their vault hunters. Who are ya?" - He tried to come closer to you, for some reason, so you only rose the barrel of the shotgun and watched the small laser light hovering on his forehead.

"Ya not any friendly folks, ha?" - The man asked and laughed your barrel off as if he barely noticed the danger he was in. There was... Something about him. You felt like you knew him from somewhere. That face was basically burned deep into your brain and it was so detailed, that it was freaking you out like shit. Those eyes, sharp lips... But his name was a remaining mystery to you; not for too long, unfortunately. - "Hey, name's Scooter. Ya know me. Most of the folks on Pandora do." - With that, he offered you a palm to shake, and because of that, you took the barrel of your shotgun down from his forehead. Scooter. Scooter. That face, that name... Jesus that man was reminding you of someone and you couldn't just remember who. Eyeing down his clothes covered in old, dry oil (which was clearly powering engines, or some other machinery), you straightened and watched Pintley approach Scooterboy. You exhaled slowly and put the shotgun on your back, shoving it back into the covering.

"Name's Pintley, young man. Come here, I'll give you a cold Dr. Bob and some food." - Pintley patted his shoulder and you carefully watched Scooterboy with a frown. You were inclined to believe him just after he looked like isn't about to kill you, yet it didn't mean you'd be particularly fond of the stranger just yet.

"Scooterboy?" - Your voice was firm and cold as you looked at him. - "Don't you do something with cars? I get the vibe you do, look at your clothes." - It was a short explanation, but it did work. Scooter looked down quickly, raising his eyebrows. Blindy was now standing next to you and he didn't have a clue about what was going on.

"Catch-A-Ride!" - Scooterboy exclaimed with a big smile. Oh dear, you got your mindset straight on who he was. It was like a blast inside your brain. You knew his face from all the commercials you've seen with his face - it was a big thing when he supposedly died on his way to Helios. Ellie, his big sister and the other big mechanic of Pandora, was paying him many respects and missed him dearly. She was mourning for a long time.

"How the fuck are you alive?" - With a frown, you stormed past him and Pintley, entering the pub first. - "This is one wild evening Pintley, I tell you. Give me, Billy and Scooter some cold Dr. Bob and some bread with cheese you have there because I'm about to faint." - You sat at the nearest chair, massaging your own face.

Scooter was alive.

[thunderheadfred]

æther

so, uhhh.... A) I have no idea if this ficlet will end up in the final chaptered version of Mirror, Mirror or if it’s doomed to be a permanent headcanon and B) I spent too much time to just let this sit in my WIP files for however long it takes to finish this monster of a fic because my brain is a shrivelled little acorn that requires constant validation

pairing: Asra x Julian (plague-era, post-Lazaret, AU-flavored) length: 3,750 words rating: explicit. bitter. citrus.  warnings: gore, plague-related horror, trauma, unresolved angst, emotional constipation, gothic narrator syndrome, a 200-coin paid Asrian bath scene

...well. here goes nothin’...

It might be two in the morning. 

Something about the tightness of my chest, the irregular, lumpy beating of my heart… tells me the night must be wearing thin. There is no other earthly way to divine the hour. No light penetrates the dungeons, and Valdemar seems to loathe timepieces; I have yet to find a single clock squirreled away in this bottomless hellhole they call a laboratory. What good would time do us, anyway? Other than to mark the endless stream of anonymous deaths, one tick after another…

tick… tick… tick…

Something drips onto my notes, running ink all over the place, ruining whatever half-lucid thought I’d been in the middle of. Useless anyway. I’m getting nowhere. I throw down my quill and drop my face into my hands. Crying does not feel good, or even bad. Like everything else in this place, it is simply draining, inevitable. Often, I seem to leak unwittingly, my body going through motions my mind has become too numb to sense.

I should sleep. I should. But the thought of that cramped bunk, at least half a foot too short, crammed against the molding, always-damp wall… It makes more sense to rot where I sit.

Outside, someone moans hoarsely. My hands turn to fists in my hair. No… not again...

Valdemar and their retinue of nameless numbered assistants have retired for the evening, leaving half a dozen “experiments” in mostly-inert pieces on various slabs to chill overnight. One of those unfortunate souls is coming back around, and it’ll only be seconds until they feel the extent of the horrors that were inflicted… Hands moving to either side of the desk, I brace myself.

Nothing prepares me. Young. Too young. Her voice, even in agony, sounds just like… I’m up and out the door before I know what I’m doing.

I lunge for her: the one writhing body amidst a pile of dissected remains. One look at her puts a clamp over the bleed in my heart: not a red hair in sight. She’s too tall, too dark, too anonymous to be my sister. But all the same, she is suddenly every bit as dear to me.

I take one of her hands, stilling her grasping, spasmodic fingers. My other hand takes up the cleanest rag I can find and mops sweat and muck from her forehead, a flimsy excuse to comfort. She’s too far gone already; all I can hope to do is ease this wretched passing. In shock, the body can act out a series of stirring autonomic reactions… or so Valdemar claims.

My tears fall freely now, because I’m still not dead enough to know better.

This girl should have died hours ago. Days ago. Should have died at home in her bed, tragically, yes… but whole. Not like this. But what Valdemar never understands—refuses to understand—is that people don’t die clean, on a schedule. It’s startling how many of these abandoned experiments wake up hours after they’ve been declared hopeless… and still go out screaming. In my own twisted way, I suppose I find their tenacity inspiring. The girl beneath me wails incomprehensibly, but I know exactly why, and I tighten my hold.

End it.

The pain of being left here, the fury of being abandoned, the indignity of being cut open for beetles and maggots and the curious field notes of a demon.

End it.

She writhes and foams and her ferocious red eyes track my every movement. Obeying her wordless commands, I grab the precious vial of contraband æther from my pocket. Keeping a firm hold on her hand, I depress the trick top of the vial and tip a few potent drops onto a rag, pocketing the bottle as quickly and secretively as I produced it.

Blackbreath Æther: the reaper’s kiss. A single whiff of the fumes is enough to dull the most extraordinary pain, and any more than that, well… Even at a distance, I can feel my own head swimming. Carefully, I hold my breath and bring the cloth to cover her nose and mouth. The æther smells warm and earthy, like fresh-tilled dirt, and the girl gulps down her own inevitable darkness, her shrieks of agony transmuted into the deepest, sweetest sighs…

Through the hole Valdemar left gaping and raw, I can see the girl’s healthy pink lungs expanding with the last breaths she’ll ever take. And just like that… she goes still, her face slackening. The way her pupils blow wide as they stare at me, gazing through me, seeing nothing and everything… fills me with hideous peace.

The silence she leaves behind knocks me off balance. Clinging to her lifeless hand, I stumble into the nearest stool, landing so hard I bruise the length of my thigh. The pain is welcome: at last, a feeling. It wakes me somewhat, and I realize that head to foot, I’m shaking.

Behind me, the door to my office creaks.

I leap from my own skin, wild with terror. No one else should be down here. The lift hasn’t returned, I would have heard it, I would have known... I can’t be that far gone…

I grab the closest, sharpest thing I can find, slashing a broken bone saw through the air. When I turn on my heel… I see Asra gaping at me, hands held up in surrender.

Inexplicably, the magician is emerging from my office. He looks coiffed and groomed, every bit the pampered palace pet he so skillfully plays at… but the moment our eyes meet, his façade flickers, words dying on his lips.

I swallow heavily, realizing I’m still clinging to the girl’s hand. “You don’t belong here,” I spit, unable to force the hostility from my voice.

As far as I know, Asra has never visited the dungeons before. He’s never so much as asked what work is done in this ever-worsening dark. No, he’s always dancing around the subject of the Plague. Always running back to his shop, or his “realms” or his god-forsaken dreams. Always pretending Vesuvia might wake up from this whole charade some day, like it was all just a terrible Masquerade-weekend hallucination.

Why should he open his eyes now? Why even bother? No one can wave a hand and vanish the apocalypse.

“Get out.” Suddenly infuriated, I brandish the bone saw in his direction, flinging at him all the bits of gore Valdemar left so carelessly behind, hoping the gesture looks as horrible as it feels.

“Blackbreath…” he whispers, voice gone ragged. “That’s why you wanted it…”

Funny. At the time, he hadn’t bothered to ask why I would beg for a vial of something so deadly, so forbidden. He’d just handed it over without so much as a ‘do not imbibe’, as if he’d give me anything I wanted… as long as I pleaded wantonly enough… as long as I spent enough time bloodying my knees for his amusement.

My stomach turns. “Thought I wanted to off myself, is that it? And you just handed it over anyway, you absolute bastard.”

Slowly, reverently, I tuck the dead girl’s hand neatly against her side… and then throw the bone saw onto a steel tray full of tools. The broken blade lands with a dull clang and a satisfying explosion of scalpels and clamps.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” I hiss, revolted by the deepening permanence of my own snarl. “What kind of magician has never sawed a person in half?”

His turns as if to leave—but how? Through my office?—and stops himself, eyes falling to the floor. He stands there silently, shoulders slumped in a noncommittal gesture: half dismissal, half acknowledgement. For a brief moment, Asra allows the expression on his face to play out naturally, a whirlwind of confusion and pain.

Good.

He holds out his hand, and my sneer falters.

I don’t move, but the mind-reading devil always seems to know what I’m thinking. His face softens into true pity and my intestines knot together.

Part of me wants to trust those watery, delicate eyes… and part of me will always be wary of snakes. As he waits for my answer, his unguarded gaze slides behind me, darting across the pile of nameless bodies. I don’t even have a shroud to cover them.

He seems unable or unwilling to hide his terror; I’ve only seen him look so lost once before. That horrible beach in the shadow of the Lazaret, where everything came apart, never to be put back together again… As if I’d spoken aloud, his jaw sets and his eyes snap back to mine. Witch.

I expect him to turn tail and run, but his hand stretches for me with redoubled insistence.

Well. He’ll never say ‘please.’ I know that.

I wish I had something else to throw at him, but I’m all that remains. Huffing out a breath, I step down from the stage and clap our hands together so hard that my palm stings. Asra doesn’t flinch, but tightens his mouth as if under better circumstances, he might owe me a smile.

He gently leads me into my office, the last place I want to be with him, with anyone. I open my mouth to protest, but in two steps he crosses the room and presses his pristine hand against the far wall. A sigil of light pulses beneath his palm, resonating with magic. Solid brick shimmers like water, opening into a portal, and he looks back at me, waiting.

I’ve seen other such passages hidden throughout the palace, but never trusted one enough to walk through it. I want to ask how long that secret escape has been there, how long he’s been waiting to taunt me with it. I have a feeling he wouldn’t answer honestly anyway, so I keep my mouth shut and square my shoulders, allowing him to pull me through.

As the portal envelops us, Asra feels so close he might as well be a part of me, as if the universe has folded us together inside a bolt of loose silk. A heartless drop, then we step unharmed into a room so bright I have to squint and cover my eyes.

He pulls me deeper into the blinding light, until carpet gives way to tile and the melodic trickle of flowing water. His guest chambers, his bath. Dimly, I realize he’s speaking to me.

“…here. You’re freezing.” He drops my hand and begins to gently lift my shirt. I flinch. He stills, but does not let go. If anything, he takes a surer grip. “Let me help,” he whispers.

My eyes finally adjust, and the room comes into focus. I didn’t realize he was standing so close… as he looks up at me, his perfumed hair tickles my chin, and his eyes seem to get caught on my mouth. I feel my breath quickening as the last shreds of equilibrium crumble out from under us.

“What do you want from me?” I didn’t mean to grunt that so pathetically. Didn’t mean to say it at all; and maybe I didn’t. Maybe he’s just in my head again. Always.

His brow crumples; his eyes glisten. “I… Nothing…”

We’re a hair’s breadth from it now, but this is as close as we’ll ever get to our apologies. We have too much to be sorry for, too many losses, too much yet to lose. Never mind the words. All this steam and closeness, he’s making it hard to even breathe. This shouldn’t be complicated. My chest hurts.

I can’t…

The first sob cracks me open like the chink in a dam, and it’s already too late. I can’t stop it. I fold over his shoulder, clinging to him, burying my face in his shield of silken scarves. Just being near him… too much. Warm and bright and blinding, like something that fell from the sky and left me smoldering in a crater of blackened glass. A dangerous star to wish upon.

He stands still and lets me weep on him. Seconds, hours, I don’t know. I don’t know. He lets me empty out.

When my eyes clear again, I see that I’ve stained one of the patterned scarves on his shoulder. A new one. A gift.

“Was that expensive?” I mumble, stupidly.

He jumps as if I’ve startled him from a dream. “What?”

I try to explain, but he pulls my shirt over my head, muffling my nonsense before it can begin. Warm hands skitter over me, and I watch, dumbstruck, as he traces countless bruises I didn’t even know were there. I shiver, finally feeling the cold of my own skin under this new and burning touch.

Healing magic moves up my chest, my neck, leaving tingling warmth in its wake. Slowly, he cups my face in his hands and forces me to meet his eyes. I feel my mind churning, and wonder if this tilting feeling is magical too… or a symptom of mutual insanity. With his fingers covering my ears, all my terror seems to ebb, all the kicking and screaming misery of the past few months reduced to the pulsing white noise of a tide. The muffling calm of deep water slips over my head… pulling me toward him… just him…

I want him so badly it hurts, but I know if I close the distance now, I’ll make a fool of myself. So I root down, standing there, waiting. Trying not to care what happens next.

He grabs the waist of my trousers. Like all of him, his hands are small but surprisingly strong. His swift, certain movements jerk me to and fro, and by the time he’s loosened my belt and unbuttoned my front, I’m rigid with need.

His eyes pass over my arousal. “Get in the bath.”

I struggle with the fastenings on my boots, distracted by the sight of him removing his own clothes and slipping gracefully into the water, like he belongs there.

The water feels painfully warm, but I force myself to submerge to the chest. I’ve gotten so accustomed to the cold, so numbed by it, that here in tepid bathwater, I feel like bones boiling in a pot, all pink marrow and jelly.

The water must be enchanted. The dirt sloughs from me in grimy clouds and then vanishes as if it never existed, just like the bruises. Too comfortable, too easy, like this is only a dream or another frivolous, expensive illusion.

Asra floats nearby, glittering and feral, watching his magic take hold, his spell forcing me into human form. Gulping, I dip my head back to wet my hair and face, scrubbing hard. My scalp burns, every inch of me burns, but I feel… I feel…

I should say it, I should tell him, but what? I don’t know. Too much. What name could I give this thing that’s been eating us both, whittling us down to salt and gnashing teeth, leaving only a bitter taste?

Just as I feel my heart tightening with panic, Asra’s hand slides over my chest. He waits for my pulse to slow, or quicken, or simply obey, then he moves up my neck, behind my head. He pulls me up by the root and all of my traitorous body throbs at that touch. The sight of him, too, is equally bewitching. Heavy wet curls falling over hooded eyes, lips moist and soft.

He’s leaning in, pressing his open mouth to my cheek, hot breath melting the path of my tears. When he pulls away, he looks feverish, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip, tasting.

Oh, Asra. That’s too much…

His eyes flash. Did I say that out loud? I don’t know. I can’t think. My head is moving back and forth—yes, no, yes—my mouth opens but my words are swallowed by the thickening steam. Asra’s lips graze over mine once… twice… again… again…

Who made that noise? I don’t know. We both vibrate, and I’m done for, my hands are on him, my mouth locks over his, the heat of his skin burning through my palms. I’m breathing too heavily, his teeth are too sharp. His kiss plucks my nerves and cuts my tongue, but I need more. This is all there is.

My back meets the edge of the pool with a painful thump, and our mouths break apart with a clack of teeth.

Asra pushes at my hips, urging me out of the bath even as he bends to lick water from my neck. Between breathless sweeps of tongue, he barely gets out one word: “…Bed.”

It rings like a command, but as I’m stumbling toward our mutual goal, I realize that it might have been a question. I trip horizontal and pull him along for the ride, our knees banging together. A lingering pause as he pushes up onto his elbows and looks down at me, his eyes wide, his chest heaving, water dripping from his face to mine.

I try to swallow, licking my lips. “Maybe…”

The thought dies as his hand closes around my cock. He watches my face, giving me a chance to stop this… but I can’t, I won’t. I pull him down and invite his ragged breath into my mouth, let him bite and steal and consume. He tightens his hand and pumps me to full hardness, his kiss deepening as he scrapes my lips with his teeth. The only indication of his own arousal is the ragged sound of his breath, the low moans he tries to mask against my tongue. Knowing that I have any effect on him at all… even this meagre sampling… I writhe greedily and Asra drags his mouth away. As if to distract himself, he tongues the sharp bend of my jaw and opens his mouth, bares his teeth… then stops, breathing deep.  

No, no… he can’t quit now. At least one of us isn’t above begging; I turn my head and offer him my neck.

Asra looks at me with darkening eyes. He’s breathing hard, his face strangely tight. “Julian… I… I want to hurt you.”

I laugh on reflex, dizzy with light-headed relief. Knowing how desperate I must look, I surge my cock against his idle hand and croak out: “That makes two of us.”

The shift is immediate. Just like that, he becomes ravenously, furiously alive. His teasing hand tightens around my cock, and with a slap of fervor, his other hand meets my throat. He tightens both hands until I’m gasping.

He straddles my waist and hovers over me, his mouth wide open and inches from my own. Eyes aflame, he devours every scrap of desperate air… and just as my lungs start to burn, he releases the pressure and grants me one gulp of relief before sealing his mouth over mine, choking me with his searing tongue.

Electrified, I reach for him, my hands roving up his well-shaped thighs, squeezing greedily over his muscled rear. I feel him roll with a fleeting show of pleasure… before he yanks my hands away and throws my arms to the mattress.

Forget shame, I whine and fist my hands into the sheets. I hold on as he scrapes his teeth down my neck, bites my collarbones, stutters his chin down the heaving, bony column of my sternum…. and eases his thigh between my legs. Using both sets of nails to draw angry red lines over my ribs, he bites my nipple hard enough to bruise. I squeak as he laves the wound with his tongue, soothing just long enough so that when he bites again, the pain sings through me even more sharply.

Keening low and long, I shamelessly thrust against his thigh. Just as I’m edging close, he pulls away, extracting his leg with a cruel bump of  his kneecap. I open my eyes, bleary and confused, as his dark chuckle roils in my blood. I see the sweetened plum of his grin rising over my groin and he pulls my hands into his damp ringlets.

“Hold on tight.”

There’s no further warning. His soft lips slide down around me, his luscious, infuriating mouth swallowing my cock as his otherworldly eyes stare up with the confidence of the damned, daring me to breathe. An unholy sight, one I’ve dreamed of all too often, and the sound I make is anything but human.  

He laughs, his tongue pulsing, his teeth scraping just enough to keep me from shoving all the way to the back of his throat. He works me expertly, easily reading my moans, setting a confident rhythm. My eyes roll back as the room spins. I cling to his hair and match his movements: thrusting and fucking his mouth as he bobs up and down. Every few strokes he scrapes me with his teeth, threatening to bite, savoring my yelps. He seems to know exactly how much I can take until my toes curl with pain… then he opens his mouth and slathers me with a cooling dose of lewd, loud, whorish spit. There’s barely enough relief to breathe… then he starts the torture all over again until I’m cursing, begging, speaking in tongues.

I try not to think about how he might have gotten so very, very good at this… but it’s impossible to resist imagining a barrage of possibilities. Asra choking on a thousand healthy cocks, cum sliding down his throat… Asra buried between countless sticky thighs, his face drowning in mystical, hallucinatory pussy, his eyes iridescent with a rainbow of shifting, seething pleasures…

…the world tilts around those lips, spinning on that magic tongue. I’m upside-down… look at this maze, we’ll never get out… she throws her head back and moans so loud that anybody might hear… her loose curls trail into the fountain, bobbing with pleasure… she’s grown her her hair long in the Prakran style and trussed it with tiny moonblossoms… dressed like a silver moth, her skirt pulled up, her leg thrown over his narrow, muscled shoulder... oh, yes… you two are so beautiful like this… both of you… Asra, Emry, my darlings… her hips roll as she cries out his name, clings to his hair, rocks into his eager face… his tongue lavishes her to oblivion, drinking her, worshipping her, fingers pumping into her until she sparks and ignites, lost to the flames…

Asra jerks away, staring at me like a man about to die.