#refuse disposable plastic

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not limited to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

[southeastasianists]

It was the mid-1980s when Paul Toh came of age as a gay man, decades before smartphones and dating apps made sex a lot more accessible right at your fingertips. Toh has been diagnosed with HIV since 1989. 

Now semi-retired with his own business distributing antiretroviral therapy medication and HIV pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), the 59-year-old said that in those days, cruising in public parks, toilets, and back alleys of dirty shophouses along pre-cleanup Singapore River for sex was par for the course. 

Unsurprisingly, cruising in public made gay men easy targets for police officers. “They started going to these cruising grounds undercover, with the explicit intention of entrapping and arresting gay men,” Toh added.

Police raids in nightlife establishments with gay clientele also became common, with prominent gay discotheque Niche having its liquor license withdrawn by the police in 1989 and the Rascals incident of 30 May 1993, in which multiple patrons were arrested for not having their NRICs on them. This came to be remembered by veteran activists as Singapore’s Stonewall. 

Fear about the spread of AIDS was part of the reason why police intensified their clamp down on queer spaces. In April 1987, Singapore experienced its first AIDS-related death. And one year later, the Director of Public Affairs of the Singapore Police Department said in a Straits Times article that “homosexual activities have been strongly linked to the dreaded AIDS disease,” making it an “added reason in the public interest for police to disallow homosexuals to convert places licensed for entertainment into places where they can congregate.”

Iris’ Work of Fighting Stigma

76-year-old health advisor Iris Verghese was among the first health workers to rise to the occasion when Singapore reported its first HIV/AIDS cases. 

“I knew just as little about HIV/AIDS as everyone else,” said the retired nurse, who first joined Middle Road Hospital, a now-defunct treatment centre for sexually transmitted diseases, in 1974. As part of her job, Verghese was tasked with contact tracing people who had sexually transmitted infections. 

The job brought Verghese to brothels and nightclubs in Geylang’s red-light district, which meant she was no stranger to serving society’s Others with kindness. 

“A lot of it has to do with my faith.”

“I thought about my role models like Jesus and Mother Teresa—they didn’t care what illness you had. If they could hang out with people with leprosy, then who am I to refuse to care for those with HIV/AIDS?”

Verghese’s work is well-documented, and everyone has given her the accolades she deserves—from President Halimah Yacob to the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Singapore to the Straits Times, which named her an everyday hero in 2019.

Plague, a 15-minute short film by Singaporean filmmaker Boo Junfeng, captures the emotional gravity of the care work performed by Verghese and health workers like herself. 

The emotionally-stirring film is inspired by Verghese’s work with HIV/AIDS patients in the ’80s and offers a look into the life of Jamie, a patient who stopped coming to the clinic for treatment and counselling.

In the film’s climax, set in the patient’s HDB flat, Verghese tries to dissuade Jamie from inflicting internalised stigma. Jamie insists on using disposable plastic cups and utensils and cleaning every surface he touches for fear of passing the virus to his loved ones.

Wanting to prove that HIV/AIDS is not transmissible through saliva, Verghese takes Jamie’s plastic cup and drinks from it. She then hands him a regular glass, beckoning for him to drink from it, only for him to swipe it away, breaking the glass and cutting himself in the process. 

Thus comes the true test of Verghese’s dedication to her profession as she steels herself to the drastically heightened risk. Now that her patient is bleeding, she is dealing no longer just with saliva, but with blood carrying the virus. 

In our interview, Verghese recalled many incidents like these. One that stuck with me was her counselling session with Singapore’s first HIV patient, a young gay professional, in 1985. “As I listened to him and gave him a hug, he broke down and cried,” she said. “He said he felt so good afterwards.”

Safe Sex Outreach in the 80s

“Things were very different in the ’80s and ’90s,” said Professor Roy Chan, Founding President of Action for AIDS Singapore (AfA). AfA is a non-government organisation founded in 1988 to fight HIV/AIDS infection in Singapore. 

“There was no internet then. When we set up AfA, we had to rely on word of mouth, phone calls, faxes, pagers, and so on. Mobilisation was not as easy then, but we overcame the obstacles we faced. It was very much more hands-on in those days,” Chan recalled. 

Chan set up AfA as a non-governmental organisation in 1988 to respond to the needs of people living with HIV/AIDS, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity, as well as to advocate for greater action and awareness around HIV/AIDS. 

AfA was also one of the first community groups in Singapore that served the needs of LGBTQ+ individuals—namely men who have sex with men—disproportionately affected by HIV/AIDS. 

“Back then, people didn’t have as much access to the internet as we do today, meaning that accurate information on HIV/AIDS was much harder to come by, making education efforts vital,” Chan recalled. “On the flip side, no internet meant the gay nightlife scene was more vibrant than what it is today.” 

Since the gay community in the 1980s and 1990s did not have the internet and mobile phone apps to meet other people online, they had to go to physical spaces to fulfil their need for connection, whether it was nightlife establishments or cruising grounds.

Gay clubs were hence crucial in AfA’s outreach programs on safe sex practices back in the ’80s—even if it meant risking the possibility of police raids.

Back then, there were very few places in Singapore where gay men felt safe enough to gather in abundance, making gay clubs a viable hub for outreach and education.

AfA’s outreach efforts endure today in the form of the Mobile Testing Van initiative on weekends. The van, parked outside popular gay nightlife spots in Singapore, aims to bring HIV testing closer to the public, bridging the fear and stigma of walking into a stand-alone clinic to get tested.

The Consequence of Outreach

The people brave enough to put themselves out there to serve a larger cause were but a small minority, especially given the cultural milieu of the time. 

“There was so much that was unknown about HIV/AIDS even among the medical community, much less the general public,” said Verghese.

“Even at Middle Road Hospital, two doctors resigned, and twenty-five nurses asked to be transferred out.”

AfA’s awareness campaigns and fundraiser drives drew a lot of publicity—and no doubt some backlash.

Still, beneath all the headlines and the star power lent by high-profile celebrity allies was the silence surrounding individual HIV/AIDS cases. 

“It was all very hush-hush. People didn’t want to talk about it. No one wanted to know who died of AIDS,” Verghese shared when I asked if the atmosphere in the 90s was similar to that depicted in films and drama series such as The Normal Heart and Pose. 

The shows portrayed the HIV/AIDS crisis in the disease’s epicentre in New York as being a time of deaths and countless funerals attended by surviving gay men. 

One exception to this veil of silence was Paddy Chew, the first Singaporean person to come out publicly as being a person living with HIV/AIDS. 

Chew—well-known for his one-man autobiographical play Completely With/Out Character—told Verghese and her husband that he wanted no crying at his funeral. 

“He asked me to arrange his funeral such that his ashes will be thrown into the sea from a Singapore Armed Forces boat,” said Verghese. She and Chew’s close friends were instructed to be dressed in their party best, with helium balloons that were to be released out at sea. 

“There was one helium balloon that drifted away from the other balloons. To me, that felt like it was Paddy’s soul saying goodbye to us one last time.”

A Tale of Two HIV Diagnoses

Perhaps by coincidence—or not, since Verghese was one of the very few nurses dedicated to caring for HIV/AIDS patients at the time—Toh’s then-partner was also one of Verghese’s patients. 

“My then-partner Freddie and I handled our HIV diagnoses very differently, but of course, we also came from very different backgrounds and life experiences,” said Toh. 

“I found out about my status because an ex-lover of mine had come down with pneumocystis pneumonia (PCP). I flew to Sydney for a diagnosis so that I wouldn’t be registered in the local system here if I was found to be positive.” 

On the other hand, Freddie found out about his HIV-positive status because he was a regular blood donor. Not only was his diagnosis inevitably recorded in the national registry, but Freddie also ran into legal trouble. He was charged in court for false disclosure of his sexual activity. 

“Because of how the entire trial turned out, Freddie was sentenced to imprisonment for twice the expected duration. It affected his entire outlook in life, feeling like he was being framed by a bigger power with an agenda, with the whole world against him,” said Toh, who cared for Freddie until he passed in 2008. 

Toh, on the other hand, took his diagnosis as an opportunity to re-evaluate his life and make the most of the eight years that the doctor told him back in 1989 he had left to live. 

“When I received my diagnosis, the only thing in my mind was this: it is the quality of life that matters, not the quantity.” And so, the two spent the next few years of their lives travelling the world, making their remaining years as meaningful as they could be. 

Anything for a Chance at Life

Maximising his remaining years did not stop at travel for Toh. Having managed to get his hands on antiretroviral therapy in Sydney in the form of azidothymidine (AZT), he went on to look for more effective forms of medication while the technology was being developed in real-time. Toh wanted to help other HIV patients like himself. 

In 1994, Toh joined the Asia Pacific Network of People with HIV/AIDS (APN+), a regional network advocating for the improvement of the lives of people with HIV/AIDS in the Asia-Pacific region, later becoming a Board member and secretariat.

“North America and Europe were progressing swiftly in their battle against HIV/AIDS thanks to the work of activists there putting pressure on their governments and the medical community to channel funding towards the research and development of suitable treatment for HIV/AIDS,” said Toh.

“In Asia, however, it’s a different story. We had to be street smart in our advocacy while also looking elsewhere for allies.”

This meant looking to donors in the West who could be persuaded to recognise the importance of HIV/AIDS advocacy in Asia.

“I was very lucky to have the opportunity to be one of the first few Asians who had access to HAART, said Toh. 

HAART (Highly active antiretroviral therapy) is a triple-combination of antiretroviral drugs discovered in 1996 by Professor David Ho. Toh had been invited to attend the 11th International Conference on AIDS in Vancouver, Canada, where the discovery of this triple cocktail was announced. 

Within three months of beginning HAART treatment in 1996, Toh saw his health improving tremendously, with his CD4 count—a measure for the immune system of PLHIV—increasing exponentially and his viral load becoming undetectable within the fourth month. 

Although Toh already had a supply of free antiretroviral medication from his healthcare provider in Sydney, he continued to look elsewhere for alternative sources for patients who were unable to afford the patented medication. 

“Unlike Taiwan, Hong Kong, and South Korea, where medication for HIV/AIDS was provided to patients for free, Singapore was the only Asian Tiger which did not do so,” said Toh. 

“Meanwhile, pharmaceutical companies in developing countries like Brazil, India, and Thailand were manufacturing their own generic antiretroviral medication in spite of patent laws, making it more affordable.”

While still not free, MOH announced in 2020 that HIV medication would become subsidised.

Singapore’s Very Own ‘Buyers Club’

With patented HIV/AIDS medication in the ’80s continuing to be inaccessible to many who needed it, buyers clubs—similar to the one featured in the 2013 film Dallas Buyers Club—would soon emerge worldwide, including Singapore. 

“The funny thing was that Australia had easy access to HIV/AIDS medication, so there was a lot of stock available in Sydney,” said Verghese. A family vacation down under in 1987 turned into an informal research trip for her to network and gather the information that she needed to perform her job optimally. 

During her trip, she met HIV researcher Dr David Cooper, who brought her to Albion Street Centre (now known as The Albion Centre), which specialises in HIV/AIDS management. 

Through her newfound contacts, Verghese managed to get her hands on some of the unused stocks of medication in Sydney back to Singapore for her support group. 

“We even got the help of the Singapore Airlines flight attendants to pool together their unused baggage allowance to bring this medication back,” she recounted with a laugh. 

Antiretroviral medication was not the only asset that Verghese brought back. She learned a lot about the virus from the professionals she met in Sydney, allowing her to move faster than the national response and gather the information needed to tend to her patients. 

A Ground Up Initiative

“George Yeo was actually very impressed with what we were doing,” recounted Verghese. “He wanted to meet with the community to learn more about our efforts and arranged a closed-door meeting with us.”

The meeting was the culmination of months of sending letters to Yeo, the Minister of Health at the time. The dialogue session was held to discuss the government’s rule that mandated the bodies of AIDS sufferers to be buried or cremated within twenty-four hours of dying. 

This rule was finally lifted in December 2000, after four years of advocacy by AfA.

They argued that the policy was outdated, having been implemented in the mid-1980s when hardly anything was known about HIV/AIDS. 

“I think we’ve certainly had to prove ourselves as an organisation over the years,” Chan said. “There might have been concerns among some who thought of us as a gay rights organisation, or misconceptions that AfA worked solely on issues that concern gay people.”

“But we’ve proven ourselves over the years to be a serious and effective organisation tackling HIV/AIDS and sexual health with clear metrics of success, and the results and continued support from the government speak for themselves,” added Prof Chan. 

Toh, who served as AfA’s Executive Director from 2007-2009, concurs. 

“Actually, not many people know this, but MOH has been quite supportive of AfA over the years. Even during my term, they would hold closed-door discussions with us, intently wanting to work with us on eliminating HIV/AIDS,” said Toh. He reckoned that MOH did not want to be publicly seen as supporting something considered by society as ‘morally corrupt’ no matter how beneficial it is to wider society. 

The Fruits of Our Predecessors’ Labour Are Not Handed on a Silver Plate

The history of HIV/AIDS and its role in fomenting community-building among the LGBTQ+ community has always been a topic of fascination for me.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to see everyone in your social circles and communities succumbing, one by one, to an unknown disease. 

Covid-19 provided the closest representation of the tumultuous and uncertain time in the ’80s.

In the midst of writing this, however, the comparison became a much closer one. Monkeypox is now affecting men who have sex with men more than the rest of the general population. 

“It’s not the same thing,” Chan said, cautioning against making blanket comparisons between monkeypox and HIV/AIDS.

“For starters,” he intoned, “monkeypox is not an unknown disease. We’ve known about monkeypox for decades, so it is nothing close to HIV back in the ’80s.”

Admittedly, life is easier for a gay man like me, who came of age at a time when HIV/AIDS is no longer considered a significant threat. 

With common knowledge of medication as well as preventative measures like safer sex and pre and post-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP and PEP), it is easy for me and my peers to take for granted the freedoms that we now enjoy, thanks to decades of advocacy and destigmatisation. 

But as Prof Chan said, “It is important not to be complacent. The freedoms and advancements we have today were not handed on a silver platter. Earlier generations had to fight very hard for all of these things.”

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap three/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Mr. Fix It

summary: when your kitchen sink breaks, you ask your new ‘friend’ for help.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. lots of pining, and steve opens up a little about his past.

authors note: this chapter was a struggle for me, lots of overthinking and rewriting. I hope you guys like it though 💗

🌇 chapter one | chapter two -> chapter four

Series Masterlist/Playlist/The tune:

Early June - A Thursday

Your first week as a waitress at The Whale was a whirlwind, long hours on your feet leaving you exhausted every time you climbed your staircase each night. Dishes and laundry piling up around your apartment, so when you finally have a day off it is dedicated to playing catch up. The smell of coffee fills your apartment as you stretch looking out your living room window. New curtains ready to be hung leaning against the wall.

His car is gone, the normal work day in full swing for most of the city. You haven’t seen him since that night in the alley, your schedules seeming completely opposite now. Part of you hopes maybe today you’ll at least catch a glimpse of your new friend and his cute dog.  

Most of the day is spent going up and down your stairs to the shared laundry room in the basement of the building. In between loads is filled with distractions of things to do in your room and whatever you left playing on your TV. Your eyes actively avoid the dishes that have piled in your sink while you actually fold your laundry. It is only when you don’t have any more excuses that you finally drag your pink fuzzy slipper covered feet over to the one chore you’ve been dreading all day.

“I gotta get better at washing as I use,” you grumble like every other time you find yourself here.

You only get two plates and a bowl deep when the sink starts to clog, groaning annoyedly you flip the switch of the disposal only to be met with the sound of metal grinding against metal. A smell resembling burning plastic hits your nose and you’re quick to flip it off, the water still refusing to drain. Slamming down on the faucet handle, you wait a couple of minutes before daring to reach in to see if a piece of silverware got stuck in there. When your fingertips meet nothing but warm water, panic starts to set in. 

You flip the switch one more time out of curiosity, and the same unbearable sound drowns out your TV. You huff turning it off, hands finding your hips as you look around for a solution you know you aren’t going to find without calling someone. Bandit’s bark catches your ears, and you hate that all your frustrations seem to disappear at the thought of seeing him.

You pad over to your window, eyes going big and head dropping at the sight that’s waiting for you.

Of fucking course.

It’s obvious he barely got home from work by the black slacks that still cover his long legs, but the dress shirt is missing. Instead the white tank top he wears underneath is all that’s there. Tucked in so it fits tight across his torso, his dark chest hair peeks out the top with a silver chain shining against his bronzed skin. His forearms flex tugging on the tennis ball trapped in Bandit’s tight grip, his sock and slide covered feet plant on the ground for added balance. The smile on his face you swear is brighter than the sun that isn’t hidden by any clouds today and you didn’t realize how much you missed it. 

It’s somehow even hotter than it looked outside, and you immediately regret not changing out of your warm slippers, but he’s already spotted you with an offering of a friendly wave with his big hand. He gets the ball away from Bandit, losing his footing surprised, shock painting his features before the dog starts jumping on him. Steve raises it over his head, keeping Bandit too distracted to see you at the gate that he’s signaling for you to let yourself in from. 

Your hand shakes a little when you unhook the latch, nerves from never being at his house before and not seeing him for the past week try to get the best of you. He smiles when he looks at you from over the rim of his sunglasses letting Bandit win finally but it’s too late for toys when he spots you. Bounding over with big paws, Bandit wastes no time jumping on you, making you stumble back a little before catching him in your arms.

“Bandit! Come on, don’t knock her down,” Steve scolds, but those pretty giggles that he loves so much come out when his dog starts licking your cheek and it tells him all he needs to know.

“Hi buddy, I missed you too.” You grin, your animal voice coming out only a little when you feel Steve’s stare fixated on you.

Bandit wags his tail jumping down satisfied before grabbing his ball again bringing it back to you to continue the game you interrupted.

“Hey tough girl.” Steve smirks shoving his hands in his pockets watching you accept his dog’s invitation. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You play with Bandit’s ears to try and distract him as you do your best to get the rubber ball out of his iron tight bite, completely losing focus on why you came over here in the first place when you succeed and throw it towards their front door.

“Oh my god, my sink!” You gasp, your hand covering your embarrassed grin.

Steve’s eyes widen, his eye brows marrying together in the middle with concern. 

“Is it flooding?!” He asks incredulously as Bandit trots back over carefree. 

“No, not flooding.” You assure him going back in for the toy, and you can tell your nonchalance is getting to him. “My disposal is making sounds and it smells like plastic burning every time I run it, so the water won’t drain.” You get the ball away from Bandit cause he lets you, only continuing your explanation after you throw it again. 

“I was hoping my good friend and neighbor could come check it out?” You try to lighten the mood with a smile but the concern never leaves his face, the pink that dusts his cheeks tells you he’s not unaffected by your ‘charms’ though.

“It’s probably something stuck in the pipes, let me get some tools and I'll come back with you.” He speaks like he’s sure he knows that’s it, snapping his fingers at Bandit to get him to wrap it up.

“Are you sure? I’m not interrupting anything tonight?” You hope he doesn’t pick up on the hidden ulterior motives in your question, but the smirk he gives you tells you he does.

“No honey, I’m all yours.”

It’s strange having him in your apartment again, and god you wish he had put on a real shirt when he got his tool box. The tops of his shoulders are covered in even more freckles, the tint of redness from the sun becoming obvious in your harsh kitchen light. The muscles in his arms twitch in the cold air of your AC that works harder with the heat of two bodies in your small space. 

His gaze falls on your full sink and you immediately regret going to get his help. Silently cursing your hormones for getting the best of you. 

“Sorry, obviously I was trying to do them. It’s been a long week, I started a new job serving and-“ embarrassment makes blood rush to your cheeks as you go to move past him in an attempt to clean some of it up.

“Hey, you’re fine.” He grabs your arm before you can make it, long fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip but still soft enough for you to pull away if you really wanted to. “I’m not judging you.”

His lips tug into a warm smile when you don’t try and break away, the gold specs in his eyes lighting up while his thumb brushes against your heated skin in a soothing motion. It only grows wider watching how your shoulders give in to his whims with a slump.

“Just know I was about to do them!” You argue weakly with a point of your finger and he just nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in an effort not to laugh at your distress. 

“How else would you know your sink is broken?” His voice wavers when he tries to play along with a straight face, but it becomes impossible when he catches the roll of your eyes. You do that a lot to him. He likes it.

“Better watch yourself Steve,” you warn with a grin wrapped around your words that hold no real threat, but it’s hard to fight it when he still hasn’t let you go. 

He’s closer now, and you notice his five o’clock shadow is as dark as it was the first day you met. Salt and pepper covering his sharp jaw. The faded fresh scent of his deodorant mixes with the spice of his cologne, and the sweat that kissed his skin outside. You want to bury your face in his shirt and inhale.

“You shouldn’t threaten the guy that’s here to fix your sink honey. That’s not very smart,” he tsks looking down the edge of his nose at you with squinted eyes, “you’re lucky I’m so nice.” 

You immediately feel the loss when he drops your arm and if it wasn’t for the wink that followed, you would have missed it more.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease trying to play off how flustered you are but the slight shake in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed, confidence smoldering in his stare before his teeth come out in a blinding smile.

“Let me go take a look, see what I can do. Your dishes aren’t offending me, I promise.” He does his best to ease the last bit of self consciousness still hanging onto the way you look over at the small mess before walking away with tools clanking in the metal box loudly behind him.

It had been almost an hour with him like this.

He’s on his back, long legs extending over the small space of your kitchen tile. Slides kicked to the side, white sock covered feet wiggling with his movements under your sink. The top of him is hidden, the tank top that was tucked in now loose and pulling up, giving you the hint of his happy trail. You try not to stare at the way the muscles in his arm harden with each twist of his wrist, or the grunts that leave him every now and then.

You find out he works in marketing for The Cubs and used to play baseball himself in high school, laughing when you confess how much you don’t like sports. He promises to take you to a game sometime saying he knows you’ll have fun and you try not to think too much into it. He knows you're rolling your eyes again when you answer “sure” with a smile in your voice. He lets you complain about your first week as a server, surprising you when he asks questions because he’s actually listening.

Metal clanks loudly, cutting you off and drowning out the playlist you chose to fill any empty gaps in conversation that never seemed to happen. An “I’m fine” coming out from under the sink just a little too even to really sound ‘fine’.

There’s a beat before you see him reach for the pliers at his hip, readjusting like he’s set his sights on the culprit.

“Wait, I don’t think you ever told me - hmmpf - what - come on - restaurant you work at?” He readjusts again.

“The Whale,” you give him an answer, hypnotized by his ability to multitask like this.

“Oh, my wife loved that place.” He says it casually like he didn’t just drop a Hiroshima sized bomb on you, or maybe he does and that's why he chose to do it hidden from sight. 

You're thankful he can’t see the way your jaw drops, or the disappointment that fills your eyes. There’s a beat of silence before you answer, trying to hide the shock in your voice.

“Wife? I didn’t know Bandit had a Mom.” You look up at the ceiling, mouthing the work ‘fuck’ into the void.

There’s another clank of metal followed by a ‘there you are.’

“Erm - I mean - umm, technically I got Bandit after - I didn’t want to use ex wife, I just don’t know the proper term to say I’ve been widowed for five years.”  He grunts one more time before he starts shimming out. “I do think I found the source of your clog though.”

Your favorite stray clings to his forehead when you get to see his face again, a pleased smile pushing his cheeks up despite the new information he just told you as he holds the ring you thought you lost during the move.

“My ring!” You gasp, jumping off your couch, the opal stone catching in the setting sunlight. 

“Clearly, you do, do your dishes.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you laughing when you shove his shoulder lightly snatching your jewelry back.

“You’re hilarious Steve.” The tightness that had formed in your chest relaxes, his smile becoming contagious.

He likes the way you say his name and the way your lips twist up every time you do. It’s sweet enough to ease the guilt that he’s fought with since the day he met you.

“I know,” he huffs as he pushes himself up, reminding you how broad he is when he’s back on his feet. “You should’ve seen my speech at the Legends of the Ball gala last year.”

He gets that eye roll he didn’t get to see earlier, and god he doesn’t want to leave yet but when you slip the ring onto that finger he knows it’s time to go. For now.

He clears his throat before turning around to test his work. Flipping the switch, the sound it’s supposed to make returns, the water in the sink draining quickly.

“Annnd, all back to normal.” His grin is proud when he turns it off. “‘Now, let me clean my mess up and I’ll get out of your hair.” Mirroring his own words he finally pushes his back and you see the dusty pink that covers his ears when he slips his feet back into his slides.

“I feel like I can’t let you leave without offering you a drink or something?” You know all you have in the fridge is some rosé you got on sale at Aldi, but you needed a reason for him to stay.

“How about this, you can bring me back some of those fish tacos one night this week and we’ll call it even.”  He can’t look at you when he suggests it, hoping his ploy to see you again wasn’t obvious while he busies himself with putting all his tools away.

“I think that’s more than doable, I need to thank you for finding my favorite ring too, maybe you should pick a dessert while we’re at it.” You bite your bottom lip when his eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin.

“I’m a big fan of cannoli’s.” He snaps the clasps of his tool box closed before doing a once over to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Not that, that would be a bad thing if he did, you’d have to bring it back to him. 

“Consider it done. Seriously, thank you Steve.” All your teasing from before is gone, making his  face soften at your sincerity and he wants to tell you that’s enough for him.

“Anytime, that’s what neighbors are for right? It’s always just me and Bandit anyway. It’s nice to feel useful again.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, like he wouldn’t help you with anything you asked of him despite how he hardly knows you.

You walk him to your door where you both stand on either side of the threshold, toe to toe. Neither one of you is sure of the proper way to say goodbye.

“Give Bandit an extra treat from me for letting me steal his Dad for a few hours.” You break the ice leaning against the door frame, crossing your arms making the decision easy.

“I’ll be sure to tell him it’s from you.” Steve’s eyes gleam from the evident admiration you have for his dog. 

“You better.” The threat is empty, the smile on your face to prove it. 

“Have a good night honey. I’m always just next door if you need anything else.” He loiters a little bit unsure of himself before finally turning to make his way down the stairs.

“I’ll try not to lose any more jewelry down the drains!” You call after him, relishing in the laugh it gets you that echoes down the narrow hallway. 

You wait till he’s out of your sight before you shut your front door. Your mind racing with everything you’d learned about him tonight, sleep was going to be impossible. 

--

---

----

beta’d by @superblysubpar & @newlips 💗

dividers by @newlips 💗

chapter four

[accio-victuuri]

i just noticed i’ve been v partial lately to zsww fake house and of course our dear lrlg that i forgot about another fake story house 给博肖加点小料bot . the last contribution i posted from them was this — the drawing of them 💋. so for a bit of a catch up, i will share ones from the past dates 2/24, 3/3, 3/26, 4/3, 4/29, 5/21 and 5/29.

enjoy the goods! ^^ everything here is fake/fiction.

2/24/2024:

I have been losing weight recently, and if I crave meat, I will order takeout like beggar's chicken. Once when the meal arrived, XLS used the disposable plastic gloves provided to tear the chicken, and he got burned. Then he put the thick cloth gloves that came with the meal on the outside of the disposable plastic gloves and tried to grab it. We quickly stopped him, and he realized that he should wear the thick gloves inside and the disposable gloves outside. After eating, he called WLS as usual to report today's diet. He acted like a spoiled child to WLS and said that he was burned. Usually you tear it for him, and he didn't know it would be so hot. He also said that he would not dare to do it next time. Later, XLS told us that he ate chicken when he was losing weight, and WLS even made him hand-torn chicken.

ugh. honestly. these two. forget about peeling shrimps for your s/o! it’s now shredding chicken with your hands and then letting them eat it like that is the key. i swear, WLS really spoils XLS! and i like hearing about him acting like this with WLS.

and a background on what is “beggar’s chicken”

3/3/2024:

Once when we were staying in a hotel, we entered the elevator from the first floor. A robot came in with us. We pressed the button for floor x. Wls and xls pressed the button for floor x, but the button for another floor in the elevator was also on. Xls saw that no one pressed the button, so he turned off the button for that floor. It turned on again after he pressed it off. Xls continued to press the button, and it turned on again after a while. Wls said, don't press it, it's the robot pressing it. Xls was very quick and pressed it again while listening to Wls. As a result, it didn't light up again this time: Wls was very exaggerated to say that he was awesome. He deserved to be my leader. Even robots have to listen to you.

i have nothing to say here other than they are such dorks. 🙃🙃🙃

3/26/2024:

WLS wanted XLS to call him gege, but XLS refused, so WLS tickled him. XLS had no choice but to quietly call him gege. After that, his face turned red. WLS still wouldn’t let us see it👀………………Don’t believe the fake news

why do i feel like this is real and not a fake story. 😂

4/3/2024:

They had a pair of Crayon Shin-chan toys, similar to the toys we played with when we were kids, which would automatically swing forward by turning a switch. XX was playing with his own toy, and xxx's toy didn't move. XX's toy swung and swung until it came to xxx's toy. The two toys were face to face, eyes to eyes, mouth to mouth, and then XX exclaimed in a very cute way, and XXX laughed along with XX.

even the toys they are playing with are dating 🤦‍♀️

4/29/2024:

For a while, x liked to watch food shows to find delicious snacks, but he was on a diet and couldn't eat too much. Every time he bought a bunch of snacks, he would taste them and share them with us. Some of them were so delicious that he couldn't finish them, so he would send them to w to clean them up. The courier here always knew the delivery address without telling us.

5/21/2024:

xls mistakenly sent a video of himself practicing kettlebells to the group. It was said that it was originally sent to wls.

OH NOOOOOO! what other workout videos is he sending to WYB??? how about post workout selfies??? 👀👀👀👀 XZ, please check who you are sending stuff to!!!!

5/29/2024:

XZ: I think I have dry skin

WYB: Bullshit, you sweat so much

XZ: Oh! I feel that my skin is still dry after applying body lotion recently, am I going to have dry skin?

👩‍🦳: It may not be moisturizing enough, but it will be summer soon, so I don’t need body lotion

👱‍♀️: The whitening one, the one you mentioned last time, I plan to buy the same one

XZ: Oh, that one is actually good

WYB: Is that one particularly fragrant? I touched it, and the smell is exquisite

XZ: It’s none of your business

WYB: I can’t join you at all

the comments on this contribution was mostly about “straight man” yibo 🤣🤣🤣

-END

[zerofuckingwaste]

Easy zero waste tip no. 3: Know your R's

Refuse: If you don't acquire the thing that will become waste in the first place, it won't produce further waste. Simple enough. Refuse that which you do not need. Example: All that cute stuff on that Buzzfeed article? You don't need it. Don't even click the link.

Reduce: If you need something, get the minimum. Note that this doesn't mean the cheapest option- it means the most effective and environmentally friendly option. Example: Instead of buying disposable razors, or a razor with changeable heads, try out a safety razor. Instead of using plastic toothbrushes, try out bamboo, and instead of toothpaste in disposable tubes, try out some toothpaste bits. Instead of buying chicken breasts for one thing and chicken broth for another, get a whole chicken and learn to butcher its meat, and make broth from the skin and bones.

Reuse: This means both being mindful of purchases, so you're only buying things that are reusable whenever possible (Example: use beeswax wrap instead of saran wrap), and repurposing things you've already bought (Example: use those little Oui yogurt containers to start seeds for your garden).

Recycle: Find out what your local recycling program actually recycles, and be mindful. Aluminum is a safe bet most of the time, as is paper/cardboard; but plastics, most of the time, are a dud, so try to refuse, reduce, and reuse plastic whenever possible so you don't even need to worry about recycling it. This also refers to donation- that's another valid way to recycle things!

Rot: If you have a yard, start a compost pile! Just try to get a 50/50 balance of food scraps to brown matter (paper, dry leaves, etc). If you have a freezer, you can stick a container in there to act as a compost thing until you can bring it to a compost facility, such as a local garden, or farm. If you don't have the ability to do either of these things, then you can see if there's a subscription compost service in your area (I used CompostNow for ages, they're great).

Understanding these five principles, and looking at them in this order, can make things easier. Next time you're buying something, or about to throw something away, consider which of these might allow you to reduce your waste output in the future.

[letterstotheflre]

when you first arrive at alexandria, the only way to get daryl to shower is with the promise of doing it together. otherwise, he'll refuse to even touch a drop of water.

you take in your reflection in the mirror, sweat and dirt stuck to your face and chest and arms. you also take in all the toiletries at your disposal-- shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste! deodorant! and, in an open plastic bag left on top of the counter, you see four unused razors.

you miss the feeling of being shaved now that the possibility of doing it was taken away from you. you miss the feeling of smooth legs on clean sheets and in some pre-programmed part of your brain, you know you'd feel cleaner if you shaved your entire body.

you also think daryl would like it. not that he has ever mentioned anything about body hair, and besides, you can count the times you've been fully naked with each other with just one hand. but you know how guys are, or at least you think you do, so you grab one of the razors and hop on the shower with daryl.

he's under the stream of hot water, dark hair sticking to his face. while he cleans his body, you wash your hair. once you put the conditioner on the ends, you switch places with daryl and grab the razor along with the soap. you lather the tufts of hair on your mound and get ready to shave, only daryl's hand on your wrist stops you an inch away.

"what are you doin'?"

you blink. "shaving?"

he takes the razor from between your fingers and leaves it on the edge of the tub. "don't. i like it."

your eyebrows raise in surprise. you truly didn't expect that. "you do?"

"yeah," he shrugs. then his ears turn a little pink, almost feeling guilty for telling you what to do and sounding so demanding. "i mean," he clears his throat. "s'your body and you can do whatever. but, uh... i like it better like tha'."

your heart is ready to burst through your chest. just like that, he's healed an insecurity you've had for years. you could cry. "okay," you smile.

daryl nods. "pass me the shampoo, will ya?"

a/n: daryl loves bush. pass it on

[chaosgremlinmunson]

April fools?...🫣😳

Minors dni, smutty funny content ahead, 18+ only please!

Eddie had a plan. He was sure it was going to either be hilarious or he was about to die by either Robin Buckley or Steve Harrington’s hand by the end of the day, but he had a plan. First thing was first though, he had to get Chrissy on board, and that, he was sure, was about to be a challenge. However, as luck would have it she also thought it was a great idea. Well, she thought he was hiding the eggs in the appropriate room, but hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt right? Right? Ok, so maybe his platonic soulmate might also kill him, but no one could ever say Eddie Munson didn't commit to the bit.

He strolled into melvads on Friday morning grabbing bags of cheap plastic eggs, and snickered when he saw glitter as well, thought why not and tossed it in his cart as well. When he approached the counter the teenage cashier just looked at him for a moment, rolled her eyes and rang him up. He bought a couple disposable cameras as well, and headed back to his van making his way to his and Chrissy's apartment. When he came in she was sitting in the armchair, near her leg was a couple bags from their favorite fetish shop out in Indy and she grinned at him.

“You think Robin will finally get the clue I'm into her after her Easter gift?” She twirled her hair around a finger, and reached into her own bag laying out a baby blue corset and pointed to his bag, “don't worry I got the things you wrote down for yours.”

Eddie laughed, coming to sit beside her kissing her temple, “I think if anything, she's definitely going to have some thoughts after this.”

((smut under the cut))

They made a night of it going full on fashion show, boudoir shoot. Eddie trusted Chrissy for the more exposed photos, he wrapped himself in nothing but a sunshine yellow ribbon, accentuating every curve, and giving a full view to the thick swollen present he wanted Steve to have most of all.

The photos were developed that weekend, a friend owing him a favor, asking no questions, and Eddie got set to stuff the eggs. Half with photos, the other half glitter bombs. He waited for Tuesday when they'd have their weekly movie night, the one night they all collectively had a scheduled day off and came to Steve's and while Steve showered he got busy hiding the eggs around the house. He had practiced acting innocent when he was anything but, so no one was any the wiser when they all gathered. Robin found the first egg as she and Chrissy went to sit on the loveseat.

Robin looked at the egg confused for a moment before opening it, falling sideways while screeching and throwing the egg at Eddie's head. Steve came rushing over, leaned down to pick up the egg and his face went crimson seeing Eddie in a leather harness and assless chaps. He gulped and looked up at Eddie, and walked back to the kitchen to grab their drinks and then screeched himself, finding another egg Eddie had hidden.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” He said running out and handing the egg straight to Chrissy, refusing eye contact. She looked down to see the photo she's taken riding her toy in the corset, her face going red in embarrassment before standing up and tackling Eddie straight to the floor.

“Edward Nathaniel Kristof Munson! You said they would be hidden in their rooms and only Robin would see me, and that I would win my Birdy! You lied, you, dramatic, overgrown, wet cat! I'm burning your leather chaps, and your new yellow sparkle plug!” Chrissy had him pinned her hands gripping his hair not realizing the absolute bombshell she just dropped as Eddie yelped.

“Chris! Chrissy-bee, love of my life, queen of the world, most beautiful and wonderful best friend of mine, I did it for April fools! She still got to see! And at least this way you know she's going to see it!” He was wiggling under her trying to get away.

“I'm going to put bleach in your shampoo, I'm going to replace all your records with pop music! I'm going to tell Steve about the scrapbook!” She was screeching at him, her tiny frame hid how strong she really was and Eddie was starting to regret this idea. Then he realized, shit, they're still in the living room. All of this was said in front of both of their crushes. Dear God in heaven he did not think this through, at all. Chrissy seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time as Eddie did because they just made eye contact and both stared eyes wide before standing up slowly looking at the floorboards. Disaster gays, that's what they were. Jesus H Christ, Eddie just wanted to disappear and pretend this hadn't happened at all, but clearly now it was way too late. Steve grabbed his hand and his eyes went wide again as he led him into his room away from Robin and Chrissy, he pushed Eddie onto the bed and climbed into his lap pulling Eddie's chin up to look him in the eye.

“You couldn't just tell me the normal way huh? Had to be as dramatic as possible, had to be a little riot and get the blood pumping?” Steve emphasized the last bit by rolling hips down into Eddie's lap as he gasped, “I should make you wait for it. I should punish you for being such a bad boy and showing off. No one but me should have seen you that way.” He nipped Eddie's neck whispering into his skin, “As a matter of fact, I am. Robin is going to yours with Chris, and you Eddie, are going to go around this apartment and get every. Single. Egg. And you're going to open each one so that your photos end up only for my eyes, and Chrissy's will be set in Robin's room. Then you're going to clean my mess you make. And if you do a good enough job I might just let you have a treat.” He licked up the side of Eddie's face who shuddered and nodded, his hands gripping Steve's hips.

Steve slid off his lap and watched Eddie, an eyebrow raised in expectation before Eddie moved to start gathering everything. He opened every one over the trash, that way glitter didn't get anywhere and separated the photos like Steve asked. He rushed around cleaning the house, leaving everything as immaculate and clean as Steve typically had it and stood in the living room his hands clasped behind his back as Steve made his way through the house checking everything was done to his standard. When he came back to where Eddie stood he looked him over for a moment.

“On your knees.” He commanded and Eddie fell straight to his knees, thankful for the plush carpeting under his legs. His mouth was already watering as he looked up at Steve waiting for his next command, “open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Eddie rushed to comply and Steve placed his fingers into Eddie's mouth who immediately sucked them in as Steve inhaled shakily still keeping control, he reached other hand up to Eddie's mouth and brushed his fingers over his cheek.

“Was this what you needed? Something to shut you up, make you sink? Fall apart slowly?” He growled, he moved his hands up to Eddie's hair tugging at the strands before pulling him up to his feet and crashing their lips together. “Strip.”

Eddie hurriedly pulled his shirt off, he tripped over his pants but still rushed to get undressed and stood before Steve again who came up in front of him before making his way slowly around Eddie appraising him.

“You're doing so good for me. Such a good boy when you want to be, hmm?” He ran a hand up Eddie's thigh cupping his ass before smacking it once, “This what I need to do for you? Tell you what to do?” Eddie's eyes were fluttering and he was leaking down onto the carpet.

“I can be good for you, only for you. Please, Steve, please.” Eddie panted his hips quivering trying not to rut against the air.

“Do you think you've earned it?” He leaned into Eddie's space whispering in his ear tugging his hair again, “Do you think you deserve me to touch your pretty little cock yet?” Eddie whimpered, he knew he wasn't small but Steve being mean was making his skin light up in the most delicious ways.

“Please, I can earn it. I can be so good for you Stevie. Please, please, just tell me what to do.” Eddie whined.

“Bend over.” Eddie bent over the back of the couch where Steve had led him. “Use this, and open yourself up for me. Don't come until I say you've earned it. Be my good girl.”

Eddie keened high in his throat and got to work opening himself up in front of him, he arched his back and after a few moments was shaking, Steve pulled his hand away to look at his progress and put two of his own thicker longer fingers inside of him. Eddie screamed his name, his head whipping back and arching into the touch.

“So you can be good.” He said moving his fingers in and out quickly, just as he felt him clamping down close to release he stopped, all Eddie heard was the zipper of his light blue jeans and the schlick, schlick, noises of his pumping himself before he buried himself to the hilt bringing Eddie up against his chest, he placed a hand over his throat not squeezing, just resting and bite the junction just under his ear, “Ride me like a good girl Eds. Show me how badly you want it.”

Eddie groaned rolling his hips back against Steve as he felt him all around him, “fuck Stevie, I love you, fuck I love you.”

“I know Eds, I love you too. Now ride my cock like the whore you tried to be in your little photo shoot.” He squeezed his neck softly sucking his earlobe into his mouth rolling to meet his thrusts.

“Steve please, I'm so close, can I come please. Please, sir, please, please, please.” He begged, Steve growled and bit his neck, before slamming into him harder.

“Come on my cock, don't touch yourself.” He panted his rhythm getting sloppy but harder.

Eddie cried out clamping down hard on him, come painting across the back of the couch over the quilt Eddie had bought him for his birthday recently and Steve wasn't far behind.

As they came down Steve still holding Eddie in his arms as he softened he kissed over Eddie's neck, “You're still a little shit. But God, do I love you.” Steve breathed in between kisses, “I want you to be mine. Officially.” He said turning Eddie to face him.

“Stevie, I've been yours for longer than you've known.” He leaned and kissed his lips, “Happy Easter baby.”

[checkitoutmikey]

Little thief

You were just minding your own business when a little thief appeared.

Warning: none, one use of ‘chica’ but that’s just Paul so I think reader could be any gender, blood (just a bit), fluff, fluff, fluff

It was painfully slow week night. You were in a limbo of ‚do not want to do anything‘ and ‚could not be bothered to do anything‘ with a bit of ‚I need to make some friends‘ springled in. You weren’t exactly looking for entertainment. Sure, you were bored but that didn’t mean you should be holed up in your room and watch tv all night. Instead you went to Boardwalk to just sit around and lament you weren’t home watching tv. Brilliant plan right there.

But hey, a myriad of sugary junk food was at your disposal here so that’s surely an improvement. You bought some fried dough with heaps of powdery sugar and syrup on it and a milkshake to top off the diabetes inducing extravaganza. Why did you do it? Again, you were bored. The rides didn’t seem appealing and the shops didn’t have anything new to offer so wasting money on something you would bite into once and leave for some homeless person to find seemed like the right thing to do.

You sat down at one of the vacated picnic tables down at the beach, where the circus music from all those rides seemed to fade into a nice lull. You laid out your outrageous choice of the dinner on in front of you without touching it. Sometimes a person just needs to be in the right headspace to down 15 oz of pure sugar, you know? The briny smell of the ocean filled your lungs. You were watching the waves roll over one another when you heard a little thud.

A bat.

A tiny brown bat landed on the table right in front of you. That little pebble fucker wasn’t even looking at you! It was trying to get into the cup of milkshake that towered over it. It‘s tiny clawed hands scraped over the slick plastic surface. The little body was shakily balanced on two unstable feet that shuffled from place to place as it tried to climb up the cup but failed. Flopping it’s wings here and there to try and get into better position as it planned it’s next attack.

It was digustingly cute.

You had to chuckle at the small noice of frustration that left the little creature after an unsuccessful jump. It just hopped onto the cup before sliding down like some cartoon character. „Hey, bud,“ you said and the bat stopped in it’s tracks. It looked up at you with beady black eyes, head tilting to one side as if to say ‚yeah?‘. It wasn’t afraid at all. Huh, maybe it was used to tourists feeding it?

„Were you seriously trying to steal it right in front of my eyes?“

The animal made small squeaking noise and wiggled it’s butt. You took that as a yes.

„Little thief. Well, at least you confessed.“

You reached over and pulled out the straw, covering it in whipped cream before offering it to your new furry companion. „Here you go.“ It immediately went for it. Tiny pink tongue darted out to scoop up the sugary goodness. It was making proper mess too. It’s mouth and the tip of one of it’s ears somehow got covered in cream. There was no decorum. Just pure gluttony. The thing looked more and more like a piglet rather than a bat as it devoured the treat and almost bit through the straw itself.

„Careful. You don’t want tummy ache,“ you smiled down at it and dutifully kept the straw leveled so the tiny beast could snack comfortably. When there was no more food left, it snapped it’s small fangs at the stick before biting into it and trying to wrench it from your grasp. The key word ‚try‘. It could dig it’s miniscule heels in all it wanted but you were simply stronger, bigger and - most important – you refused to give up your straw. Instead you pulled it away and scooped some more cream before giving it to your ungrateful friend.

Can bats even eat sugar? Now, you didn’t know anything about bats but you hope it’s smell and insticts will inform it if it’s good for him or not.

After it finished it’s serving, it looked up at you, at the cup, back at you before strolling over to the cup at tapping at it few times. Then it had the nerve to look back at you. That little rascal.

You graciously pulled a piece from the fried dough and offered it instead just so your sponger would have some variety. It immedietly went into munch town, wiggling it’s butt and making happy yipping noises. You think you heard it purr at one point when it was licking syrup from your finger but you weren’t sure. The thing was too small and the crashing waves nearby too loud.

Giving it second helping of the dough, you put your face in hand while holding the treat in the other. It took quite a while for it to scarf down the food and you spaced out in the meantime. It was kind of nice. Providing for a cute little animal filled you with dopamine and when it’s tongue started licking your fingers again you just closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling… before the serene moment ended with a flash of pain.

„Ouch, hey,“ you huffed. Pulling your hand back, you looked at it and saw your finger was bleeding. „Hey,“ you said again, this time in accusing manner and looked at the bat that somehow managed to look sheepish. „That’s not very nice thing to do, you know?“

The bat folded it’s wings underneat it’s body and hung it’s head down. It did look properly scolded so you took pity on it. You sigh before presenting your injured finger, „you see this? You don’t do this to someone who’s nice to you. This place is way too sensitive for your little nibblers.“ You paused for a second to let the information sink in because by this point you were fully convinced this tiny animal could understand you. Or you just went too long without human interaction. „You go for the knuckle, it doesn’t hurt as much there“ you finished.

You put your hand in front of the bat and angled it so the imp had better access. Those beady eyes look up at you in confusion. It’s stare flicked down at your hand before up again. With a smile, you tapped at your knuckle with your other hand, „go ahead bud.“

It took a hesitant step forward before giving your knuckle tiny lick. When you just smiled down at it and nodded it dived right in. It looked like it had to use some strenght to bite through the thick skin but after a few tries it finally managed to get to the blood.

Blood. Huh.

It didn’t even faze you. Guess they are right when they say people of Santa Carla are strange.

You let your tiny guest lap at your hand to it’s heart content. You were honest enough with yourself to admit that when it made those little cooing noises of content, it warmed your heart. The bat got overexcited and stuck it’s snout into the wound, presumably filling it’s nostrils with blood, and started sneezing. „There’s no rush.“ You rubbed it’s back as gently as you could. It shook it’s head in order to clean up it’s airways but after a minute or two it went right back to it’s dinner.

Maybe you could take it home. Having a pet bat is rather rad. It obviously wasn’t afraid of you and you had an inkling it would be an excellent listener. Who needs friends when you have an animal who can’t argue back?

„Now, what do we have here.“

A voice startled you from the peaceful moment and you whipped around to see four punks standing nearby. Familiar faces. You saw them on the Boardwalk where they had a reputation of being trouble makers. The bleached blonde Billy Idol wannabe, Twisted Sister, Tall Dark and Handsome and an actual angel that currently looked like he’s about to chew off his own thumb with a manic smile on his face. The last one was the only person who wasn’t examining you like a bug under a microscope. He was looking down… at your hand?

Before you had chance to do anything, the tall brunette flicked his eyes somewhere behind you and said, „Laddie,“ in tone that bone tired parents used on their misbehaving children. You turned back to see a little boy trying to hide behind you.

„Huh.“ There was a second of silence before you pieced together what was happening. „So you are a little vampire,“ you said to the boy who gave you toothy smile.

„Hey! Hey, chica! How do you know that?“ The rocker guy asked, looking genuinely flabbergasted.

You gave him the arched brow of condescendance. „Dude, this is Santa Carla. Everybody knows it has pest problem.“

[blackswan446]

worth it || four.

→ pairing: yan!knj x reader

→ wc: 1044

→ cws: mentions of drugging/anesthetizing someone

→ notes: i wonder what's gonna happen next!! (seriously i have no idea)

it had been a week since namjoon has seen you, since his eyes were blessed with your smiling face and your angelic voice graced the slopes of his ears. the whole time, it felt like he was going through the worst withdrawals a human could feel. the warm light that had shone through the deepest cracks of his soul had suddenly dimmed, the bulb had shattered, and the shards of broken glass stuck to his heart like a pincushion.

despite his melancholy, he still showed up everyday, long sleeves and all, hoping that you would come out of the room you had holed yourself up in and just talk. all he wanted was to hear that sweet voice of yours fill his head, and make his heart race once again. oh, he would kill to be in your presence again, even if it were only for a minute. after all, you had no reason to be all tucked away, when the problem that put you in this state was long gone.

did namjoon feel guilty for what he did? no. why would he? he was simply a piece of trash that needed to be disposed of, and disposed of he was. namjoon knew all the right chemicals to use to make the carcass of the animal that he had murdered fizzle away until it was nothing but liquid in a plastic bin. liquid which was then dumped into the ocean and forgotten about. not great for the environment, he knew, but he saw it as more of a service to the world. after all, daekwan was just a piece of garbage that was polluting the planet, and namjoon simply threw it away. where's the harm in that?

one particular evening, which consisted of a few rounds of video games and some take-out, the dynamic duo wound up lounging in the empty living room, where comfortable silence took up the atmosphere. that was, until namjoon decided to break the serenity and ask the question that had been lingering in his mind for way too long.

"so, how's [name]? is she doing any better?" he asked, setting his phone down on the cool leather sofa. jiwon sighed. "she's...i don't know. i mean, she's coming out of her room to eat and stuff, but that's about it. she doesn't say much to any of us. she hasn't been like this in months." he said discontentedly, furrowing his brows as he talked about his sister.

namjoon's heart broke, more than it had before, if that was even possible. you poor little thing. you were so careful, so cautious. you kept your guard up the whole time, all for some slimy predator to slide through the moat and into the castle, and turn everything upside down and inside out.

you

poor

little

thing.

luckily, namjoon was here now, your knight in shining armor had saved the day and killed the monster that haunted you, you just didn't know yet. and now it was the end of the story, where the brave knight marries the beautiful princess and they live happily ever after. but how? how was he going to get his happy ending, when you were still locked away in the tower of despair?

"i'm no expert," he continued, "but i feel like it'd be good for her to get out for a little while. just have some fun with someone she can trust, and push out all the bad thoughts and replace them with happy memories." he said quietly, face drooping with a look of despondency. "but i don't know how to convince her. i've tried to bring her with me on walks and errands, but she refuses to go."

bingo.

namjoon looked up quickly, mind flooding with ideas. this was how.

all he had to do, he realized, was climb into the tower. he had to rip off the iron bars, and unlock the heavy wooden door that kept you locked inside, and the rest would be history. this was his golden opportunity.

"you know," namjoon said, "i wouldn't mind going out with her. or with the both of you, i don't know, maybe more people will make her more comfortable. just a thought." he faltered, putting on his best show of uncertainty, hiding the dark ideas brewing in the depths of his brain with a pure, white veil.

jiwon paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his featues as he considered the idea. "that actually might be..really helpful. thanks, namjoon. i'll ask her later on." he said, a genuine smile unfolding on his face. namjoon's own innocent grin passed over his lips, before he turned his attention back down to his cell phone.

this was just perfect. this basically meant that you and him were going out on a date, if only your brother wasn't coming along. he needed to get rid of him, not forever, just for the night. once you two had spent some quality time together that night, namjoon would tell you his true feelings, and the two of you would live happily ever after. right?

what if his plan didn't work out? what if you didn't feel the same for him? it was well within the scope of possibilities, hell, it was extremely probable! what then? he couldn't just pack up and move on, no way. he'd never given up on anything, every project, every subject, every everything he'd done had been seen through to the end! he wasn't going to lose his streak now, and especially not on you. but what could he do? losing wasn't an option. but winning wasn't guaranteed. unless...

-- flashback --

"halothane," the professor said, "is used as a general anesthetic. it's colorless, and smells sweet. it's also given through inhalation, which makes it easy to administer." he concluded, setting down his pencil.

--flashback--

of course! if you were...unwelcoming...of his undying love, then he could just put a cloth drenched in the sugary-smelling liquid over your pretty face. you'd take a little nap, and when you'd wake up, everything would be perfect! it would work. it had to.

grinning inwardly at his devious plan, his excitement for the future began to set in. just you, him, and all the time in the world.

what more could he possibly ask for?

--

taglist: @teugiie

[prima-after-dawn]

Projecting my period cramps onto Sentinel because he deserves his ego knocked down a peg or two

- 🦋

You so fragging real for this, Butterfly.

I’ve always had NIGHTMARE cramps on my first period day and such heavy bleeding the whole day/night I spend HOURS on and off the toilet when I’m too uncomfortable to lay down and try to nap, which fortunately I’m able to do most of the time when my cramps are THE worst and sleep through most of that. No prescription or OTC pain meds have ever helped for more than six months bc my body is just such a fucking powerhouse it’s like “Oh, what’s this? A new drug for me to build up a massive tolerance to? Don’t mind if I do!” Heating pads don’t work, hydrating doesn’t do anything for the pain (just makes sure I don’t bleed out and freaking die I guess), and eating things like 72-90% cacao dark chocolate that are supposed to help don’t work either. And I refuse to take drugs like birth control for it cuz that shit fucks your body up so bad over time and I am tryna have offspring lol 🙃 So literally my only option is to either sleep through the worst or just suffer

So yeah, there is definitely a part of me that’s like, “Yeah, if I could bestow this female experience upon an evil individual, I would” and Sentinel is certainly one of those I would bestow my agony and discomfort upon 🥰

Anyway, I do wanna say that there is ONE thing that has helped reduce my cramping to a moderate level rather than severe for most of my periods and that is CARIONA! Info below :)

They make pads out of plant fibers that come in all sizes, come with a waterproof travel/storage bag, have no fragrances, chemicals, or unnatural dyes, are super comfy, and have never leaked in my experience even during my heaviest flow (and I’m a side sleeper!). And the best part is, you can just throw ‘em all into the washing machine when you’re done bleeding and wash on delicate, warm water, and light detergent, then air dry them! I always used U by Kotex pads before I bought a variety pack from Cariona and in the year I’ve had them so far the change in my pain has been VERY noticeable. Less pain (still bad but much more manageable), more comfortable, not wasting money and plastics buying $15-30 boxes of disposable pads every month. Cariona’s pads will last 2-3 years depending on use and the variety pack I got was only about $100! This shit’s so good, PLEASE try them out if you get a chance to! They’ve made me and so many other women feel so much better during periods. NOT SPONSORED!

[stellarcoachman]

Novembmas day 14: Working Late / Surprise Gift

Emmet stares at the paperwork on the desk before him. The words seem to be refusing to focus despite his best efforts. He sighs and leans back, rubbing his eyes. He really needs to rest, but he can’t until all of this is finished. This is what he gets for taking so much time off.

He would do it again in a heartbeat, but the consequences are terrible regardless. He sighs again and opens his eyes, focusing back on the papers in front of him with a little more success this time. At least, he manages to actually read what’s written there, even if his exhausted brain takes way too long to process it.

He adds his required contribution, then signs his name at the bottom and moves on to the next thing. Six weeks of backlogged paperwork is far too much. He hasn’t even been able to battle anyone yet.

A knock at the door startles him and he leaves a long streak on the paper with his pen when he jumps. He stares at it for a moment before he shakes his head and calls out, “come in.”

The door opens not to one of the Depot Agents like he expects, but to Ingo. Emmet smiles brightly, if tiredly, at his brother. Ingo smiles back in his own way. “Good evening.” He holds up a plastic bag as he shuts the door behind him. “I thought you might like some dinner.”

Emmet smiles a little wider. “Thank you.” He shuffles his paperwork aside so his brother can set the bag down on the desk. “Did you go to get this yourself?”

Ingo gives a small, huffing laugh. “Yes, I can manage to procure dinner on my own. I’m not completely helpless.”

“Even though there are self-driving wagons and magic lights out there?”

“Hush, you, or I’ll take the food back.” Despite the threat, he pulls a styrofoam container out of the bag and sets it in front of Emmet. “How is work going?”

“It is verrry exhausting,” he answers honestly. He takes the plastic fork out of the bag and hands Ingo the disposable chopsticks. “It will get better, there is just a lot to catch up on.”

“Why don’t you take a break, then?”

He sighs. “I just have to finish this first. I will be fine.”

“You can finish it tomorrow.”

Emmet laughs. “Who knew living in ancient Sinnoh would make you a bad influence.”

Ingo laughs as well. “Perhaps I simply learned the value of a good rest. It was hard to come by in the Highlands.”

Emmet remains silent for a few moments, simply enjoying his food. Eventually, he answers, “fine, you win.”

“So you’ll come home with me.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna finish this first, though.”

“That’s just fine.” Ingo looks just a little too smug at having won their standoff, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He really is right, after all.

[miudi]

The Rotting Sandwiches

The sandwiches her mother packed for her would rot in her lunch box, uneaten. She refused to eat them. The sandwich would sit in her lunch box, growing soggy as the hours passed, suffocated by the plastic bag it came in. The school introduced a ban stating that kids were forbidden to throw away their lunches. It was supposed to teach them the value of food, to stop waste. But it only made things harder for her. Day after day, she edged closer and closer to the bin, making sure no one saw her. Wrapping the sandwich in tissue paper, she disguised it as finished and casually tossed it into the trash. Her mother would surely change the sandwich, any day now.

Recess starts, kids run to the playground, sitting in circles pulling out their prepared lunches. She sits further away before joining her classmates. She checks her bag; she knows what’s waiting for her, but hopes for a different sandwich anyway. It’s the same sandwich, her mother had made it that morning, just like she always did, waking up early to prepare it. The effort was clear in the way it was carefully packed, as though her mother’s hands had gone through the motions so many times they could do it without thinking. She knows her mother wakes up early for the sake of her lunches, the effort obvious in the careful way it’s packed. But no matter how much care went into it, the daughter can’t stomach it. The only thing left to do is dispose of it.

On days she failed to throw it away, she kept the sandwiches in her bag, sometimes forgetting to dispose of them. They began to rot, the smell seeping through the fabric. Eventually, her mother caught her. Disappointment flickered in her mother’s eyes as she asked, “Why are you wasting food?” Deciding that disliking the sandwiches wasn’t a good enough reason, she stayed silent, shame washing over her and dissipating coldly over her skin as she stared at the sandwich, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She disliked it, but saying that out loud felt wrong, dangerous somehow. What kind of daughter complains when her mother wakes up early just to pack her lunch? So, she said nothing and accepted the sandwich anyway. But the worst had already happened—she had disappointed her mother, and now the feelings of shame rot inside of her.

The next day, she opened her lunch box to find another type of sandwich, one she liked. She smiled, but her smile faded quickly, realizing she still felt a flush of humiliation. The sandwiches may have changed that day, but they’re still rotting.

The sandwiches chase her well into her adult years. Now, as a twenty-something living abroad, she never makes her own lunches, always asking her coworkers what they should eat instead. She wakes up at 6 a.m. every day, goes to work, and is the first one in and the last to leave. She ensures her boss knows her every move, but she can feel her coworkers rolling their eyes. A slight touch of shame creeps in, but this is her trying, this is her showing up. Yet, after four years of slaving away and not complaining with no career progression, she tells herself it’s okay—her boss will notice her hard work and offer a promotion, any day now.

At home, she chats with her neighbor by the entrance, getting lost in the thought of whether his eyes are blue or green, missing parts of their conversation. He’s always helping her around the house, carrying her groceries, and their texts make her believe there’s something more between them. She drops hints of her interest. She put her hair in a ponytail, and he noticed—it looked good, he said. So, she wore it the same way all week, thinking, surely, he’ll ask me out. Any day now.

Months fly by. He’s placing her new shelf while she watches the snow fall through the window. Noticing her gaze, he lifts the blinds, revealing the vast snowy road and the bare trees, the landscape blanketed in white. She feels seen for the first time, as though he’s understood something about her that she didn’t even realize. They share a moment of quiet, and she imagines the invisible strings that bind them.

Then, casually, he tells her he’s seeing someone. The invisible strings snap. Her heart shatters. He didn’t see her at all—how could he, when all she does is bite her tongue instead of saying what she really means, what she really wants? How could she have been so wrong about the one thing she was sure of, the thing that now leaves her feeling embarrassed? She tells him she’s happy for him. She retreats into her routine, convincing herself it’s okay—focusing on work. Any day now, things will change.

But deep down, the fog of shame clears just enough for her to see the truth: her promotion isn’t coming. There haven’t been openings in years, and her loyalty, her discipline—they haven’t been noticed. Instead, they mock her. She realizes with painful clarity that she never believed she was worthy of a promotion or even a relationship. Back to checking her lunchbox, she yearns to be proven wrong, to find a new sandwich. She wants to be wrong so badly.

She had thought that being so far away from home would save her, but now she’s back in her middle school playground, still disposing of the rotting sandwiches. Her love, a sandwich; her dedication, another. She realizes she has spent her whole life running away from decisions, letting her expectations rot like the uneaten sandwiches. She can only hint at what she wants, implying her desires, but the decisions are for the decision-makers—and no one ever gave her permission to be one. Her subtle hints and passive longings are her only form of resistance. Tired of the chase, she wonders, Why has she never woken up to make her own sandwiches?

[msfcatlover]

Changeling!Tim’s childhood is... actually kinda horrifying, when anyone looks into it.

(CW for forced medical procedures, and abuse in the form of temporary imprisonment. Also, minor self-harm, and… I don’t know what you call “eating something that will make you sick so your parents don’t get mad at you,” but I know it ain’t good.)

Tim had pretty pronounced fangs when he was younger, which his parents were just planning to wait out... until he was fast coming up on 10 and it was clear Tim wasn’t going to lose his teeth. A quick x-ray proved that Tim didn’t have adult teeth to grow in, just the one set he came with, and the fangs were only getting more obvious. His parents found an orthodontist willing to yank the fangs & wire up the rest of Tim’s teeth with braces to force them to look smooth & even as he grew up. (The doctor kept the teeth as a curiosity, and a decade later Damian will track that doctor down to steal them back.)

Something even Tim didn’t realize until he had to undergo a full Justice League-grade medical exam in preparation for becoming Robin, is that the tiny points on his ears aren’t natural. They have no idea what the ears of the baby Jack & Janet received looked like, but Tim’s points are actually mostly scar tissue. (Bruce puts it down as “a cosmetic procedure not dissimilar to ear cropping in canines” and tries not to feel sick.)

(There was also a period where the Drakes did an awful lot of research into cosmetic eye surgeries, but they eventually gave up. Apparently, it was a bigger concern that their son might end up blinded than that his eyes glowed in the dark and/or were the wrong color.)

As I mentioned before, Tim’s parents trim his thorns so that nobody goes to ruffle Tim’s hair and realizes he’s not human. He... actually started doing it himself when he decided to become Robin, because Tim has seen Bruce ruffle Jason & Dick’s hair so many times and didn’t want to hurt Bruce (or experience the absolute agony of having a thorn get caught in Bruce’s gloves and end up ripped out of Tim’s scalp,) as well as not wanting to give away Tim’s own inhuman nature with the single most obvious trait he has. (When the rest of the family find out, they are horrified and insist that Tim stop doing that. Instead of hair-ruffles, Tim gets hair-strokes that go only in one direction, bumping harmlessly over the curved outer edges of his thorns; it’s actually very soothing for both parties. Everyone absolutely uses Tim’s thorns as a stim toy, as long as Tim’s okay with it.)

Tim’s parents also hire an in-house barber to cut Tim’s hair, so they can make sure it’s “properly disposed of.” (Tim’s nightmares always smell faintly of burning hair.)

Tim wears fancy dress gloves to all dinners, because with the uppercrust you never know if someone’s going to bring out the real silverware. (If someone tells him to take off the gloves or Tim’s skin happens to brush up against somebody’s jewelry, Tim just sorta has to... deal. It’s rude to rush out or refuse your hosts, after all.) (Fortunately, Dick and the Titans all prefer reusable plastic silverware. And as soon as any Bat finds out about Tim’s fae nature, Wayne Manor quickly switches to stainless steel.)

It’s nearly impossible to know if a meal was prepared with iodized salt or non-iodized salt until it’s already in Tim’s mouth and the burning-itching discomfort of coming in contact with an anti-fae substance begins. It’s rude not to at least try the food someone offers you, and it’s even ruder to just spit something out, especially out in public. At least Tim doesn’t usually have to fake it when he says he’s not feeling well in order to stop eating. (Tim doesn’t tell the Waynes about this until that medical exam, where he kinda jokes about being allergic to salt and someone’s like, “Wait, how do you eat? Everything has salt in it nowadays.” Alfred rather forlornly puts his sea salt up on the top shelf and buys a jar of iodized table salt on the next grocery run.)

Tim’s blood is immediately identifiable because it has chloroplasts in it. No, he’s not actually a plant; yes, he can perform limited photosynthesis. No, Tim was not aware of this about himself, he’s never been allowed to give blood before, and like??? Sure, he figured out he was a changeling, but that does not immediately translate to, “Oh, I should test my blood for plant cells!”

Tim’s room doesn’t look any different from any other boy his age... except for three nails over the door on the outside. For the iron horseshoe Tim’s parents hang there sometimes, when they don’t want him to bother them or when he’s grounded. (Thankfully, it's been very rare for Tim to actually be trapped in his room, as setting up a salt line on his windowsills has always been... well, he's not sure. A step too far, even for his parents? A step too many to remember and/or perform in the heat of the moment? Something they don’t even realize is necessary, assuming the horseshoe prevents Tim from leaving the room at all rather than simply crossing that one threshold? Tim doesn’t like to think about it. Tim typically stays in his room anyway when he feels the swooping nausea of it hanging over his door, if only so his parents don’t find him missing and decide sealing the windows is something they ought to be doing. Trapped not by any law or binding ritual, but by Tim’s own admittedly rare fear of consequences.) (After Tim is snatched by faerie hunters, Jason and Dick are the ones who search Tim’s house. There’s a moment of silence when they find the horseshoe and realize what the nails are for. “I really hope I don’t have to point this out,” Jason says, in the tone of someone who’s going to do it anyway, “but it’s never a good sign when a kid’s bedroom has a lock on the outside.”) 

[neurodivergent-fox-demon]

Day 1 - Classic Horror Film

Song for this chapter: Lovesong for a vampire

Eli smiled, stepping out of the bathroom. He straightened his dress and grinned at his uncle. “How do I look?” He was going to his first Halloween party at Peter’s drag bar and wanted to look his best. “Is it too much?” 

Peter looked up from his paper, raising a brow at his newly legal nephew. “The bride of Frankenstein? You have a world of costumes at your disposal and you went with Elizabeth Lavenza?” He stood up and walked around the young man. “The costume I would give a 9. The makeup can use some improvement. Has Lydia taught you nothing?” He gripped his chin, turning his face to get a better look.

Eli frowned, slapping his hand away. “You are such an ass. My makeup is always flawless.” He grabbed his heels and pulled them on. “So what time do I go on? I’m meeting with Alec and Hikari before heading to the club at 9pm.”

“You go on at 10, my dear nephew. Are you really sure you want to spend your first birthday as an adult at my dingy old club?” Peter hummed, tossing him the keys to his jeep. He was waiting for Chris to arrive so they could head to the club and decorate for Eli’s surprise party. He was glad that Hikari and Alec had agreed to keep the kid occupied while the rest of their pack set up for the party. 

Eli nodded, fixing his wig. “You know how much I’ve always wanted to perform on that stage. It’s Halloween and your parties are legendary.” He kissed his uncle’s cheek, leaving a bit of lipstick. “I’ll see you at 9.” He chuckled, heading out the door.

🐺

Eli grinned as he walked down the street with his arm around Hikari’s waist. She was one of his oldest friends and she had dressed as Victor Frankenstein for the evening. “What time is it?” 

Alec looked at his watch. “8:30. We should probably start heading to Peter’s.” He adjusted his cape and sighed. He really did not want to be babysitting a couple of barely legal teenagers, but he loved the thought of giving Eli the perfect 18th birthday. “Come on.” 

Hikari giggled, following them back to the jeep. “Eli, do we have any more candy? I want another Twix.” She pouted, hanging off his arm.  She preened as he kissed her forehead. 

“I have a few more in the jeep, Kari.” He grinned lovingly down at his best friend. He smiled over at Alec as they began walking down to the jeep. “So, do you think the pack is ready for us at the club?” 

Alec shrugged, walking behind them. “We did not fool you for a moment, did we?” He chuckled, licking the plastic vampire fangs in his mouth. 

Eli laughed. “Not even close, uncle Alec. You guys have thrown me a birthday party every year for the last 18 years.” He helped Hikari into the Jeep and gave her a few Twix before climbing behind the wheel. “And I doubt Papa would come back into town just to watch me perform in drag.” He lit a cigarette as he started the jeep. 

Alec rolled his eyes, climbing into the back seat. “You know that Stiles loves you. You would always come back into town for you.” He lit his own cigarette. “Him and your dad just aren’t talking at the moment.” 

Eli sighed, driving toward the club. “It’s been three years, Alec. I’m trying to understand, but Papa refuses to talk to any of us about it.” 

Hikari shrugged. “Your father sacrificed himself, and let Scott take you to LA.” She finished a chocolate bar, and looked over at Eli. Stiles had to leave an undercover mission and get Aunt Lydia to help him revive your father. He’s upset.” 

Eli nodded. “I know, but why do I have to be put in the middle of it?” 

“Stiles has tried his best to keep you out of it, but you are their son.” Alec blew smoke out the window thinking. “You mean everything to Stiles and he thought he was going to lose you when Scott took you to LA. He already lost Derek, and he couldn’t lose you too. And he was hurt that you did not call him.”

Hikari took his hand. ‘Let’s forget about that tonight. We are going to celebrate your 18th birthday and Halloween.” She leaned back and took Eli’s cigarette, throwing it out the window. “Enjoy yourself tonight.” 

Eli smiled at her and nodded. “Yeah. I’m an adult tonight.” 

🐺

Stiles stepped into Peter’s, adjusted his suit. He looked around the room, pasting on a smile. He found Liam and Theo and walked over. “Hey, is the kid here yet?” 

Liam chuckled and hugged him. “He’s not a kid today. Your son is a legal adult.” He looked around the bar and shook his head. “He’s not here yet, but your husband is in the kitchen.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “He is not my husband. That marriage ended when he decided to die on me.” 

Theo sighed. “Don’t you think it’s time to forgive him? He saved your son and Beacon Hills.”

“Really Theo? Did he? Don’t you think it would have been better if someone would have called me?” 

“Derek suggested that we call you.” Liam sighed, sitting in Theo’s lap. He smiled softly as his boyfriend wrapped an arm around him. “There wasn’t time. Where is your costume anyway? The theme tonight is classic horror. Lydia’s going to kill you if you’re not in costume.”  

“I’ve heard it all before, Liam.” He ran a hand over his face. “It’s in my car. I picked up a zombie werewolf costume.” 

Theo laughed loudly. “Oh, so you’re aiming for Peter to kill you tonight.” 

Stiles shrugged. “It’s just so much fun needling him.” He opened a pack of cigarettes, trying to light one. 

Theo took it from him. “No smoking in the bar, man. Chris’s rule.” He shrugged, looking into Stiles’s eyes. “Look man. I know you’re still angry, but anger just festers and destroys us within. If you forgave me for all the crap I pulled, why don’t can’t you forgive Derek?” 

“Because he left Eli with Scott. He tried to take my son away from me.” Stile screamed, causing everyone in the bar to look over at them. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I should go get into my costume.” He turned, storming back to his car. 

Derek came out of the kitchen as soon as Stiles had left. Liam raised a brow at the werewolf dressed as a mummy. “You are such a coward, Derek.” 

“Yeah, I know. I just… It’s hard to face him.” He sighed carrying the ice to the cooler. “He’s right. What I did was unforgivable. Sacrificing myself was one thing. Traumatizing Eli and sending him to Los Angeles was something completely different.” 

“Yeah, but you’re still completely in love with Stiles.” Theo sighed, taking a drink from his beer. 

“It doesn’t matter. I lost his love a long time ago.” Derek sighed.

Liam frowned, throwing a soda can at him. “You’re such a dumb ass, if you really think that.” He looked into the Alpha’s red eyes. “He’s hurting.”

Derek sighed and nodded, walking back into the kitchen. He had dinner to prepare. His youngest son turned 18 today. 

🐺

Stiles sighed as Lydia finished his make up. He heard his old jeep and smiled as ELi parked next to him. “Eli. Do you miss your papa?” 

Eli smiled and rolled his eyes as he jumped out of the jeep. “Of course I do.” He ran over and pulled him into a hug. “Uncle Peter is going to kill you.” He looked over his adopted father’s costume giggling. It was always the same. 

Stiles held him at arm’s length and smiled. “And you are slaying that dress, son.” He kissed both his cheeks and sighed. “Lydia, you’ve outdone yourself again.” 

Lydia crossed her arms and shook her head. “I had no hand in this one. Eli chose this entire costume himself.” She walked over and hugged her nephew. “Why is your lipstick smeared? I’ve told you a hundred times that you need something a little stronger.” 

He shrugged and began fixing his lipstick. “I could not find the right shade in the smear proof.” He sighed. “Have you talked to dad yet, papa?” 

Stiles raised a brow at him. “No, I haven’t even seen him yet. I don’t really feel like fighting with him tonight. Tonight is all about you and your premiere on the stage.” 

“Papa, I really wish…” Eli sighed.

“No, Eli. I know you wish we would reconcile, but there is too much history.” He shook his head. He had not even talked to Scott or Allison since he brought Derek back and took Eli back from them. “I don’t know if we could ever fix this.” 

Eli nodded, fixing his hair. “I just want you two to be happy.” 

Stiles nodded, kissing his forehead. “Let’s go get you ready for your show. Theo is dressed as the Phantom of the Opera.”

Eli laughed. “Sounds about right.” He took his father’s arm and led them into the club. As soon as they walked through the door everyone yelled “surprise.” Eli just shook his head laughing. “Thanks everyone.” 

Derek walked over and placed a hand on his shoulders. “Eli, welcome to adulthood. I honestly never thought we would be here today. I’ve done so much to screw up.” 

Eli smiled and hugged him. “Let’s not talk about the mistakes we’ve made. Papa is here.” He pointed at Stiles and stepped back. “I’m going to get off my feet until I need to be onstage.” 

Stiles sighed, looking into his ex’s eyes. “Derek.” 

Derek smiled, running his hand through his hair. “It’s good to see you, Stiles.” 

Lydia took Hikari and Alec’s hands. “And we should leave you two alone.” 

“Lydia!” Stiles hissed at his best friend’s back. He turned toward Derek, letting out a long breath. “How are you?” 

Derek sighed, and grinned. “I’m good. I’ve missed you.” He stepped closer. “Liam said I’m a coward and he’s right. I should have run after you when you first left.” 

Stiles shook his head. “Don’t do this, Derek. You left me. You endangered Eli. How am I supposed to forget about that?” 

Derek licked his lips and looked up at the ceiling. “I know that you were scared, Stiles. So was I. I honestly thought that sacrificing myself was the right choice to protect our son.” 

“You left him with Scott.” Stiles growled. “He is the most irresponsible out of all of us.” He glared at his ex husband and shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me, or Kira? We were the most logical choice to deal with that asshole.” 

“We did not want to bother you. You were on an assignment.” Derek sighed.

“No assignment is more important than you and Eli. I infiltrated an assignment to rescue you, you asshole.” He ran a hand over his face. “Wait, I told Eli we would not fight tonight. It’s his birthday.” He looked into Derek’s red eyes. “I love you Derek, but what you did was unforgivable.” 

Derek wiped his eyes. “It’s been three years, Stiles. Please, I miss you.” 

Stiles shook his head. “I can’t.” 

🐺

Peter scowled, looking at Stiles’s costume. “You really need to get new material. I am not a Zombie.” He looked up at the stage. His youngest nephew was going to perform his first drag act in just a moment. “You’re a schmuck, you know.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, looking at the older man. “Glad you came over just to insult me, Peter.” He sipped his screwdriver and watched the current act was finishing up. He could not believe he was in Peter’s drag bar waiting for his son to perform. “What do you want?” 

Peter smiled. “I want to heal my family, Stiles. You are a part of that family. I know you are angry at all of us, but it’s time for you to stop taking it out on Derek. It was not his fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Scott.” he hit a vape and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles raised a brow at him, looking at the little device. “How is Derek sacrificing himself Scott's fault?” He took a drag and sighed. “Are they happy?” 

Peter shrugged. “Derek and Eli? Sometimes. They need you, Stiles. Derek barely gets out of bed unless he really has to, and Eli has trouble trusting people. He really only connects with Hikari and Lydia.” He smiled as he watched Chris take the stage, to announce Eli. “Come home, Stiles.” 

Stiles shook his head. “Let me think about it. I can’t say I am not surprised that you are pushing us back together. I’m pretty sure you hated me.” 

“I never hated you, Stiles. You’re a smart ass, and my nephew loves you. I respect that.” Peter sighed,  and walked over to his daughter, who was in charge of the music. 

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. He hated that Peter was the one who was acting logically. He smiled as Eli stepped onto the stage dressed as a sexy vampire. 

Eli smiled, looking over the crowd. The music started and he grinned, pointing at his friends. 

 “He'll buy me a thorn before he'll buy me a rose

Be covered in dirt before I'm covered in gold

He's trying it on, yeah, he's ticking me off

Say what you want, but I won't ever be told

'Cause I'm in love with a monster

(Ooh, ooh, ah-ooh)”

He sang softly as he looked over the crowd. Everyone he had ever cared about was clapping and cheering for him. He swayed his hips, to the beat as the song continued. 

“Friends say I'm stupid and I'm out of my mind

But without you, boy, I'd be bored all the time

No, I don't really care for the same conversation

Got everythin' I need and I'd rather be chasing

Chasing love with a monster

(Ooh, ooh, ah-ooh)”

Eli grinned and he pushed his cape off his shoulders, letting everyone see the black and red lingerie he was wearing. Everyone cheered as he let the music take him over. 

“I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love with a monster (hoo, hoo, hoo)

I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love with a monster (hoo, hoo, hoo)

I'm in love with a monster (hey)

(Hoo, hoo, ah-ooh)

Sweeter you try, they don't be getting love from it

Ain't worth a dime, 'cause I just don't get enough from it

Leave it to me, don't you see? I don't run from it

Bitter the better

Hey, hey, hey

You make me crazy, but I love it (I love it, babe)

You make me crazy baby, but I love it (baby, yeah)

You make me crazy (oh), but I love it

You make me crazy baby, but I love it

I'm in love with a monster (hoo, hoo, ah-ooh)

Did you know? (Did you know?)

Did you know? (Did you know?)

Everybody loves a monster (yeah)

Did you know? (Did you know?)

Did you know? (Did you know?)

Everybody loves a monster (yeah, yeah, yeah)

I'm in love (we're in love) with a monster (hoo, hoo, ah-ooh)

I'm in love with a monster

Are you in love with a monster? (I'm in love)

I'll never find another monster

I wanna know, I wanna know

I'm in love with a monster”

As the song ended, Eli took a deep breath and bowed. He had never felt so exhilarated and he could not wait to do it again. He chuckled and began picking up the roses that were thrown on stage for him. He blushed as everyone whistled. “Thank you.” He bit his lips making himself backstage. 

Stiles shook his head, watching his son. He knew that he was an adult, but it was weird seeing him half naked on stage. He looked around himself and sighed as everyone celebrated. Shaking his head he turned to leave. Lydia put a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going, my dear?” 

“I’m going to get on the road, Lyds. I don’t belong here anymore.” He smiled, looking over her banshee costume. “I really should just leave.”  

Lydia smiled sadly at him. “No, babe. No one belongs here and everyone does.” She took his hand. “Why are you still running, Stiles?” 

Stiles licked his lips and sighed. “Why did you run, Lydia?” 

“You know why. The dreams.” She cupped his cheek. “I was not meant to be with you, but Derek… I’ve never seen you happier. It’s time to stop running from him. He is not going to hurt you again.” 

Stiles gulped and nodded. “I’ll think about it.” 

[deancaspinefest]

Everywhere

Author: LoversAntiquities | Artist: sidewinder

Posting on Tuesday February 14

Sam pulls Dean off the rebar. Dean wakes up, and Castiel is still gone. Nearly six months after Castiel's death, Dean finds himself staring down the barrel of addiction in a futile effort to relieve the pain from an injury that refuses to heal. Though, after a hunt gone wrong and one last bad decision, Dean finds himself nearly Baker Acted in Florida, forced into a recovery he doesn't want to face and memories he can no longer bury. Halfway across the country, Castiel finds himself along the Oregon coast, seven months after Jack sent him back to Earth. When he embarks on what was meant to be a journey to discover both himself and Dean’s past, a dream sends him careening back into Dean’s path, to face a world he never wanted to imagine. While Dean comes to terms with his grief, Castiel scours the country, searching for any sign of him. What he finds is Dean living out his retirement inside of a rehabilitation facility—and what Dean finds is the love of his life, brought back to him.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“How long have you thought about suicide?” Glancing down at his slip-on shoes, Dean lets out a breath, down to the depths of his lungs. His hands feel like bricks, lead weights in his lap that simultaneously ache to move and long to sit still. His right hand, he sinks his fingers into the leg of his sweatpants, staving off the tremor that no medication can cure. The couch might as well be concrete, cold and lifeless and offering little help to his already aching spine. Only conventional painkillers in this place—not the good stuff, the stuff he’s been hoarding in his duffel for months. Right now, all fifteen plastic orange bottles sit in a disposal bin at the Panama City Police Department. Good riddance, his more rational brain thinks, while the other half begs for salvation from a craving he can’t scratch. A craving they won’t let him scratch. And for once, he can’t help but feel grateful for it. “Maybe I should rephrase that.” Mrs. Carlisle sits back in her cushioned chair, her ankle propped up over her knee. She looks nice today, her sunset red hair barely touching her shoulders, her glasses framing her green eyes, shining under the overhead fluorescent lighting. Sometime between last night and this afternoon, she repainted her nails, dark purple replaced with blue and bright orange. “How are you feeling today?” Another breath. Death rubs his eye with his trembling hand. “Better, maybe,” he says, every bit the truth. Better than he has been in a while, but not by much. “Haven’t been glued to the toilet today.” Mrs. Carlisle nods, her lips neutral. No scorn, no amusement over his pain. “It’s good to see you out of your room, as well. I know we’ve only been talking for a little over a week, but compared to our first session, you’ve come a long way.” Not long enough. “Just feel like there’s…” Dean waves his good hand, the other planted beneath his thigh. “Feel like I can’t get the words out. Like I’m not here.” Her lips turn downward. She scribbles a note onto the pad in her lap, then looks up. “It’ll take a while to adjust to the medication. Are there any symptoms you don’t think you can tolerate?” What a loaded question. “Can’t tolerate anything,” he huffs and leans his head back. “But I’m… I’m fine. I’m dealing with it. Haven’t gone blind yet, so I guess that’s a plus.” Again, Mrs. Carlisle scribbles something. Whatever she’s noting, he doesn’t want to read. “The purpose of counseling isn’t solely to help you ‘deal’ with what you’re going through. It’s meant to help you be mindful of it so that the weight doesn’t solely rest on your shoulders. Yes, you’re dealing with it, in your words, but it’s how you learn to cope that determines the outcome.” A sigh. “You saying I should think positive thoughts?” “I’m saying it wouldn't hurt,” Mrs. Carlisle chuckles.

[continue reading on Ao3 on Tuesday February 14]

[jadedbutler]

jurdan post-canon WIP scene

By the time Jude returns with drinks in hand, Cardan has already managed to make a spectacle of himself. He’s lounging on the edge of a shitty park fountain like it’s a throne, one leg crossed over the other, his raven hair mussed in a way that looks deliberate but may not actually have been. The black-painted nails of one jewelled hand tap impatiently against the stone.

With his free hand, he places light pink flower petals in his mouth. There are no nearby blooms, and it’s far too early in the spring to see even little buds, let alone full blown roses.

“Are those good for you?” Jude asks dryly, because she refuses to ask where he’d gotten them from. Her hands are damp from condensation sweating off the disposable cups.

“Would you like a taste?” Cardan returns with a provocative smile, knowing the answer. 

Jude does not. “...Are you drunk?” It has been about five minutes since she’d left him alone.

Cardan pauses as though contemplating the question, flicks the tip of his tongue to catch a drop of nectar dripping down his lower lip. “I’m ravenous,” he deflects smoothly, which as good as a yes.

He holds out his palm to present Jude with a handful of crushed roses. “Is there anything actually good to eat in the mundane world?”

Jude frowns, grabbing him by the wrist to pull him to his feet, letting the flowers scatter to the pavement. She doesn’t let go right away, appraising how slender his arms are, how easy it is to bruise his fair skin.

“Your criteria of ‘actually good’ is hard to gauge. You didn’t like dim sum?” she says, releasing her grip to press against him the plastic cup of coke she’d procured from a nearby stall.

Instead of taking the drink from her hands, like a normal person, Cardan takes her wrist in turn and pulls it toward himself to take a sip. 

“I enjoyed the experience immensely.” 

Of course, to Cardan every meal here must be iron-tinged. He hasn’t complained yet, but she can see it in his complexion, the chic bruising beneath his onyx eyes, the way he ends up finding fey flowers where there shouldn’t be any. 

Jude flexes her hand the one that dain made her stab. Even now, after all this time playing queen of shadows, she can’t shake her tells. She opts for a change of subject:

“That’s new,” she nods at the earring. A golden snake that coils around the pointed shell of his ear, with gilded fangs that sink into his lobe, and tiny rubies that seem to drip from the bite. She can pretty much guess what the craftsman had been trying to imply.

“I’m rather fond of it,” Cardan smiles back, all teeth, dark eyes gleaming like fresh ink. 

“...I’ll bet you are.”