#that was because i spent several days on it though. hope my health teacher watching my screen during zoom class enjoyed it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mothwingwritings · 11 months ago

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Frohe Weihnachten

Boyfriend To Death Strade X F! Reader X Ren

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! By some miracle of the holiday season I have arrived and even wrote something, even if it is random and I struggled to get finished before Christmas. But I did it and now I offer it to you humbly as a lil gift.

This month has unfortunately bad. All the bad had me looking for distractions to keep me from the gloom, and the search for distractions lead me to replaying Boyfriend To Death 1, and replaying BTD made me start Boyfriend to Death 2, and well… Here we are. It’s been one of the few things I could focus on that brought me joy this month (what that says about my mental health we will leave up to interpretation loooooool :)), so I decided to try my hand at writing something for it. It proved to be a fun challenge, and I am hoping to do some more BTD stuff in the future. :3

ANYWAY here is a Strade-centric fic (Ren is there too, though) I churned out amidst the December bs. He’s spoiling you in it which isn’t really a good thing for you. I hope I did him justice. He is a very nuanced guy and I had a lot of fun writing this. I can slowly feel god awful, horrible men becoming my forte , and at this point I am just embracing it.

Please be mindful that BTD and BTD2 are adult games, so even though there is no explicit NSFW in this fic, it is for 18+ only just as its source material is. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this, thank you!

WARNINGS: Torture, stabbing, blood, degradation, forced stripping, pet play, mentions of rape/noncon, Strade is filming a snuff film and though you are a part of it, you are not the one being snuffed (congrats!), severing of body parts, nonconsensual filming and touching, kidnapping, imprisonment, butchered German (my highschool German teacher is crying somewhere) and probs some shoddy editing (sorry for the rush!).

Staring down at the gifts laid out before you, a thin layer of sweat began to coat your body.

It wasn’t so much that the boxes wrapped in vibrant, pretty, paper were that unnatural (it was Christmas day, after all) so much as it was shocking that you had received them at all, given the circumstances.

This was your first Christmas away from home, the first holiday season spent without the company of your friends and family, and their absence felt like a swift punch in the gut. None of the old traditions and celebrations you were accustomed to partaking in were around to bring you comfort this year, the laid back, pleasant atmosphere that typically encapsulated Christmas was nowhere to be found. Any jolly vibe was replaced by discomfort, apprehension, and a festering disquiet that permeated the air, killing any and all fun normal for this day.

Across from the looming assortment of gifts, each wrapped in varying degrees of expertise, sat your captor Strade, and parked next to him was your fellow captive Ren. Both sets of eyes were drinking you in with great interest, the out-of-place youthful enthusiasm reflecting back at you doing little to quell your mounting anxiety. You shifted nervously in your seat, trying your best to remain calm. You had no idea what manner of sick surprise awaited you in those packages, all you knew was that you were dreading opening them, especially with these two watching. Thinking of what the wrong reaction to their presents may illicit was more stress inducing than the gifts themselves, which already made you feel like you were developing a hernia.

“Well, go ahead,” Strade was the first to speak, his lazy drawl and splayed out body contradicting heavily with the frenzied look in his eye, “What are you waiting for?”

Ren nodded beside him eagerly, “Go ahead, (name)! I opened mine earlier because I was too excited to wait,” he chuckled a little, a small, bashful blush illuminating his cheeks, “And um, there’s a few for you in there from me so… I hope you like them.”

Your eyes traveled from the men, down to the presents. You swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by their façade of innocence, violated by their unblinking stares.

“I-I’m sorry, I just um… Wasn’t really expecting… this…”

It wasn’t a lie, the last thing you could have predicted was a present, let alone multiple. You figured maybe Ren would get you something (he had the luxury of internet access, something you were yet to be trusted with), but it wasn’t even within the realm of fantasy that you may receive anything from Strade. The only thing you dared hope for was a small reprieve from the abuse he inflicted daily, but even that seemed too farfetched to hope for.

“Well, I say you deserve it,” Strade spoke, the calm cadence of his voice still clashing with the gleam in his eye, “what’s Christmas without presents, after all? So go ahead, open them.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally reaching a shaky hand towards the closet gift on the table. Your body was moving mechanically, and though your fear was palpable, you forced your demeanor to remain composed as you pulled the small box into your lap. Your fingers carefully tore through the thin paper, dreading revealing the mystery that shiny paper shielded you from.

And as the paper fell away piece by piece, you were shocked to find that the box contained… slippers.

You stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Of all the things in the world that could have been waiting inside that box, to receive something so innocuous and normal was beyond perplexing.

And the gifts continued this way. You unwrapped package after package of clothing, perfumes and toiletries, stuffed animals and snacks. Each new item bewildered you just as much as the last, leaving you feeling like all this was just the lead up of a joke, one you felt like you were the punch line for.

As if the gifts themselves weren’t mind boggling enough, the quantity and quality of them were just as shocking. Brand names and fancy, high end packaging stared back at you with nearly each ripped wrapping, a small slap in the face with each revelation.

It left a pit in your stomach. Not even your own parents would gift you some of these things, so why were you being treated this way by a homicidal maniac and his companion? To make matters even worse, most of the gift you actually liked. Definite thought was put into each present, unnerving you most of all. You didn’t want them to know your likes and dislikes, and you certainly didn’t want them to be so familiar with you that they could easily pick out things you may desire. It felt borderline offensive that they were able to peg you so well, like you had been wrenched open and all the hidden parts of yourself you had been hiding had been forced out in the open, secrets uncovered you wished to remain hidden.

Heebie jeebies aside, such normalcy left you scratching your head. You had an intense urge to inspect each and every item to make sure the clothes weren’t secretly lined with razors, or the stuffed animals weren’t just cute ways to conceal knives, but you contained yourself. No use in setting them off when things were going surprisingly well.

You kept yourself neutral as you thanked them, neither over eager or ungrateful as you graciously accepted the offerings. Ren beamed in recognition each time you mentioned him, delighted by the simplest praise. Strade remained nonchalant, leaning back as he leered at you with that unnerving smile he always so proudly donned on his face.

When the present pile had come to an end, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over you. You felt like you had made it out of a vary harrowing journey without so much as a scratch, and felt quite accomplished for doing so.

However, before you could feel the weight truly lifted from your shoulders, any sense of triumph quickly flew out the door as Strade slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His beady eyes drilled holes through you, delighting in the apprehension his subtle shift caused you. Your blood turned to ice as he gave you a lopsided grin, his words coming out drawn out and slow, as if he were speaking to a child.

“Myyy look at that,” he sneered, “so many nice things for our (Name)! She must have some very generous admirers. It’s obvious she’s the favorite, not a single one of those boxes were for you or me, Ren!”

The weight of your situation suddenly crashed down around you. Of course these gifts wouldn’t come without some horrible caveat-you were an idiot for even thinking you would get away with this scot free.

You tried to calm yourself with the fact that Strade most likely wouldn’t go through all the hassle of spending all this money on someone he planned to kill shortly after. What would be the point? But that thought birthed an even worse fear, the expectation of getting something back in return. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be able to provide him a physical gift, a fact Strade was intimately aware of. That left you with one option- he was looking for reciprocation through different means.

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you clasped them in your lap, struggling with how to word the imminent question you had.

“Do you want… I mean, should I get you something in return?”

You hated how small your voice sounded, dreading the response your words may garner. A shiver rocked you as the smile on Strade’s face spread, his arms spreading out in a dramatic shrug as he shook his head with a laugh.

“No no, please! The only thing I want in return is for you to thoroughly enjoy your gifts, nothing else is needed. Your delight is a gift in and of itself.”

His words did little to help your dwindling nerves. A sudden harsh clap of his hands made your heart skip a beat, his body pivoting to face Ren with a sadistic smile.

“I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, his voice taking a dangerous edge, “we have one more very special surprise for our girl, don’t we?”

Your attention darted to Ren, hoping for a sign of assurance from him. The beatskin started to squirm a bit in his seat, pulling nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. He looked over at you with lidded eyes, a dangerous gleam in them that you knew was a terrible precursor of the pain to come.

Ren’s breathing had grown unsteady, the blush that had engulfed his face becoming so vibrant you could almost feel its heat from where you sat. While there was nervousness to his demeanor, he couldn’t quite mask the hints of his exhilaration from peeking through. The guileless enthusiasm was hard to face, causing you to avert your gaze, your heart sinking deeper. Ren was no saint himself, but he was all you had in this hell that masqueraded as a normal, middle class home. He was supposed to have your back (and often times did) in moments like these, but it appeared his demons won this round. The thrill radiating from him over your oncoming misery was perceptible. You were on your own with whatever lay ahead.

With a jerk of Strades head, Ren bounded off the couch to another room, the sound of subtle clanging reaching your ears as he dug around out of sight. You careened your body, hoping to maybe get a peek of whatever the hell Ren had ran so jubilantly to acquire, but you immediately stopped once you heard a chuckle rumble from Strade’s chest.

“My my~,” he purred, the sound causing an instinctive shiver, “so eager this morning (name)! I can only hope you keep that up once you see what the surprise actually is, hm?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Ren barreled back into the room, slightly out of breath and clutching some sort of metallic, chain linked contraption in is hand.

“Sorry,” he lightly huffed, handing the item in question to Strade, “I hid it really well so it took a moment to get.”

Once it was in his grasp, Strade turned to you, holding out the item so you could finally view it in all its glory.

It was a new collar-a dog training collar, to be precise. This one however had been modified, the spikes lining the interior of the collar, while typically coated with a thick, squishy plastic to as not to hurt the dog in their training stage, were missing their protection. The metal nubs that the plastic encased were also typically dull and rounded on most training collars, meant to poke and prod instead of maim and hurt. You would not be getting that manner of gentle encouragement it seemed, your body tensing as you stared at each harshly pointed spike. The needle like protrusions glistened so brilliantly in the overhead light it almost appeared as if the collar was made of diamonds.

You sat perfectly still, in a complete daze as Strade approached you and swiftly released the thick electric collar from around your neck. The cool air hit your sweat drenched flesh, giving you a chill. While it was nice to be without the weight of that vile contraption, the freedom was only momentary as he clasped your new chain links into place across your throat. Though it was much more delicate than your previous collar, for some reason it felt much heavier than its bulky electric counterpart.

You winced as he gave the leash a small pull, grinning when a sharp, shocked cry fell past your lips. The needles hadn’t broken the skin yet, but the action did make you become keenly aware of just much damage they could cause with very minimal effort. The delicate nature of your current standing was looking bleaker with each passing second, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body as you eyed Strade fiddling carelessly with your leash. He seemed pleased by the attention his minor ministrations were awarding him, humored by the pain he could bring you with a mere flick of his wrist.

“I-it looks pretty on you, (Name),” Ren stuttered, a nervous smile complimenting the red of his cheeks, “Kind of dainty, like a fancy necklace. It really suits you.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Strade jeered, fingering the chains that hung heavy around your neck, “I considered one for you too Ren, I didn’t want to make you jealous, you know? But then I figured hell, if I get this for (Name) Ren’ll probably enjoy this just as much as I do, so it’s already a two for one deal.”

Giving your cheek a few mild slaps, Strade turned his gaze towards Ren, “I trust that you’ll take good care of (Name) if I’m ever out and about and you want to have some special fun with her. A little pet time for my pet would do him some good, I think.”

The flippant insinuation made bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Now,” Strade pulled tighter on the leash, prompting you to rise to your feet and stand before the men. He lifted the chain above his head, laughing as you rose to tiptoes to avoid gouging your neck, “What do we say after we receive such a nice present, hmmm~?”

“Thank you,” you choked the words through your indignation, the spikes scratching uncomfortably against your skin as you did so. After several seconds of your balancing act, Strade lowered his hand, granting you the ability to stand normally. You released the breath you were holding, thankful that for at least this moment, you escaped agony.

“So ein gutes Mädchen für mich,” he cooed condescendingly, patting your head as if you were an actual dog, “you are really making me proud! But the fun isn’t over yet, in fact, this is just the first part of your special surprise,” his eyes widened at your obvious despair, “Aren’t you lucky?”

Without further ado he stomped past you, leash gripped tightly in his hand as he led your further into the house. While there was more leeway to the leash than anticipated, you still hustled to follow after him, fearful of the barbs encircling your throat. His whistled as he walked, his demeanor so exuberant that for a moment you felt he might start skipping. Ren trailed behind you, following closely in your footsteps.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on to where you were headed. As you came to stop before the thick, iron door that separated the rest of the house from the hell-hole that was the basement, tidal wave of fear washed over you. Strade took a deep breath, relishing all that was too come, immersed in the anticipation he was undoubtedly feeling. He turned to you and smiled, and you fought to keep a grip on your sanity. Feeling feint, your eyes flicked from him, back to the imposing door. Your heart was banging so violently in your chest from the sheer amount of terror that was coursing through your veins that you worried you may pass out.

How many people had met cruel, agonizing fates down those stairs? How many gallons of blood had dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, snaked through the drains? How many anguished screams had reverberated off those sound proof walls?

You began to panic as Strade opened the door with ease, wasting no time making his way down. You hadn’t been to the basement since Strade had kidnapped you many months ago and you had hoped it would be a place that you never found yourself in again. It relieved you when Strade had forbid you and Ren from stepping foot down there, one of the few orders he gave that you were actually happy to oblige. Strade only took people to the basement for one reason and one reason only, and the fact that he was so pleasantly dragging you down there right now did not bode well for you in the slightest.

“W-wait,” you called out nervously, grabbing at the chain leash in an attempt to stop his descent. “W-why are we going down here?”

“Because it’s where the rest of your present is,” he answered as if it were obvious, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he shot you a pointed look, “Now come on.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle touch on your shoulder stopped you.

“It’s ok, (Name),” Ren’s voice sounded softly in your ear. You could tell he was doing his best to sound reassuring. “We are allowed down there today, Strade said we could as a special treat for Christmas. It’s OK, I promise,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before planting a fleeting kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

His words did little to assuage the overwhelming terror you were feeling, sinking its claws deep in your battered soul, holding you in a death grip. You were past the point of a panic attack, now fearing a heart attack may be what does you in. At this point you wondered if that would be a mercy over whatever awaited you down there.

Forced breathes rattled from your lungs, erratic and strained as you stared into Strade’s expectant eyes, knowing his patience was rapidly diminishing. As much as you wanted to get whatever was coming over with, your legs lost the ability to move, your body denying every command your brain was giving to take the first step.

Hesitating a moment too long elicited a brutal tug from Strade, effectively ending your indecision as you were sent tumbling down after him. You whimpered as you felt the barbs of the collar tear into your flesh. Small rivulets of blood snaked from each fresh wound, dripping down your shoulders, back, and chest to strain the collar of your shirt. As a rare act of mercy, Strade caught you, his thick arm acting as a barrier between you and the concrete you were plummeting head first towards. For once you were thankful to be within the monster’s grasp, a sore chest and aching shoulder from where he grabbed you were far better than any injury you would have attained from the fall.

Consumed by a rush of adrenaline from the tumble, you neglected to realize your hands had latched to Strade’s arm like a lifeline. Embarrassment flooded you, quickly prompting you to release your hold on him. He laughed at the flush on your cheeks, your body jostling along with the rumble of his chest. His hand relinquished its grip on your shoulder, leaving behind angry red fingerprints, as if he had seared your flesh with a mere touch. His newly freed hand moved to tangle itself in your hair, eliciting a whimper as his nails dug into your scalp. Each place his body made contact with yours felt like it was burning.

Without warning, he roughly brought the side of your head to his lips, the stubble of his cheeks scratching your skin as he smashed his face against yours, taking in a deep breath. Excited puffs of breath tickled your ear as he spoke.

“Hurry up now,” his voice was gruff, but the words came out in a sing-song manner, “Don’t start misbehaving now, it would be a total bummer if you had to miss out on this, (Name)~”

With a wistful sigh he released his hold, leaving your momentarily reeling as you stumbled back, trying to reclaim your baring’s. Strade didn’t give much of a chance to do so, continuing on his way with another yank of the leash, forcing you to scramble after him once more.

Your body gave an involuntary shiver as your feet touched the chilly concrete floor. Strade flipped the lights, causing you to recoil at the sudden brightness. Your eyes grew watery as they struggled to adjust, but when they finally did you wished more than ever you could have just remained in the dark.

Though you hadn’t been in the basement since the week of your capture, everything was just as you remembered it. Horrible memories flooded your mind as you took in your surroundings, your brain assaulted by flashbacks of months prior. All the same home appliances and tools still lined the back wall, typically innocent devices most people used for repair jobs and building projects that no one would take a second glance at were this a normal basement. In Strades hands however, they became tools of destruction and torment, capable of the vilest atrocities.

You heard the loud whirring of the freezer off to the side before you saw it, the outdated device still valiantly chugging away as it preserved god knows what on its rickety inner shelves. The noise it spewed was so grating you wondered why he didn’t just replace the damn thing, or at least try and fix it. Near it stood the work table that housed his buzzsaw, looming ominously as it waited patiently for its next use (whether that be for flesh or for wood, who was to say?).

Witnessing these normally mundane items again made your chest hurt, a deep, indescribable level of horror spreading through every inch of your body as you struggled to reacclimate yourself. You were sure this place would haunt you as long as you lived, whether you stood in it or not didn’t matter.

Your throat went dry as you stared at the dark stains that littered the floor, remnants of various human’s bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, piss, and everything else that may leak from a human corpse was so continuous and abundant that there was no hope of the marks ever diminishing. Something told you Strade didn’t seem to mind, however. If anything, seeing those stains probably brought him some level of happiness, acting as pleasant little reminders of all the slaughter he had committed, a trophy for the lives he had stolen.

And there, smack dab in the middle of the basement stood the support beam he had tied you to, effectively barring your escape from this place. Witnessing it again was bad enough, but as your eyes locked onto it your heart started racing once more, your terror hitting unprecedented levels at the realization that there was a body there, tied up and trapped just as you once were.

At first you thought maybe you were hallucinating, seeing some phantom version of yourself your mind had conjured under the extreme stress you were facing. But as you continued to stare, noticing the slight rise and fall of their chest, hearing the small wheezes coming from their direction with each motion, it became apparent they were no figment of your imagination. Long hair fell from their slumped head, obscuring your vision of their face, but judging by what you could see of their body they looked to be around your age, similar to your build. You couldn’t help but wonder if you shared other features, had the same eye color, or maybe a similar facial structure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Strade picked them because they reminded him of you.

Witnessing another human in this state made your stomach turn. It wasn’t so long ago that you were in that exact situation, and seeing them there helpless and oblivious to what lay before them filled you with the distressing urge to try and rescue them. If you could only run to them, untie their bindings and embrace them, let them know you were there for them and that they would be ok… Stupidly wisheful thinking, but maybe a miracle could still happen and that sweet lie would come true…

You shook your head slightly, dispelling the thought. No, it was all a tragic pipe dream, the fact they were here meant they were as good as dead and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop that.

“Hey!”

Strade barked, breaking you from the spell you were under. You jumped to attention, your wide eyes turning to him to give him your full attention. His scowl lessened at your recognition, “I know it’s all very exciting (Name), but pay attention when I am talking to you, alright?”

“Sorry,” your mouth barely formed the word, spitting it out so fast you wondered if it was even understandable. You were still in shock from being in such a terrible place, your brain lost in a fog as it struggled to comprehend why you were here, what Strade wanted of you, who that person on the floor was, and if you would make it through the day.

He sighed before stepping closer to you, irritation still lingering in his features. You fought every urge telling you to bolt, your body jolting as he gently patted your cheeks. After a few soft pats to garner your attention his strong hands continued to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms. His skin was warm, the sweat from his hand moistening your skin as his thumb traced absentminded circles across scars he had created.

“Strip.”

The command didn’t register at first, making him lose patience. As you stood stock still his brows began to knit, foot tapping a bit as he waited for you to comply. After several seconds of inactivity on your end, he snapped his fingers in realization, his expression relaxing as something donned on him.

“Oh wait, it’s probably hard with the collar, right? Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

From an unseen back holster, he brandished an imposing hunting knife, one that you would remember anywhere. It was the same one he tormented you the day he met you, the feel of it on your skin seared into your memory for all eternity. It had done a brilliant job keeping you at bay when he first imprisoned you, serving him well as the main tool that broke you.

Seeing it again was all too overwhelming, all too horribly familiar. Your body quaked, tears starting to flood your eyes, making your vision waver. Your lips moved, your throat struggling to speak, fighting to come up with something, anything that may stop him from using it on you. But ultimately there was nothing you could force out, so you just stood there blankly, flapping your lips in a failed attempt at self-preservation.

“What’s wrong?” Strade pouted, pulling at your collar, forcing you closer to him. You could barely feel the pain through your terror. “If you have something to say, you should say it. Or are you just so thrilled by all this that you can’t form a coherent thought,” he tutted, “Ah, I know the feeling well (Name), but don’t suddenly go mute on me! I want to fully enjoy all of your reactions, so don’t hold back. Think of it as your gift to me.” You shivered as he placed the knife under your shirt, cutting away haphazardly at the thin fabric, uncaring that he was nicking your flesh in the process.

With his body so near, the only sound you could focus on was Strade’s labored, rasping breathes as they rattled from his throat. He blithely ripped what was left of your clothing from your body, leaving it discarded in torn heaps on the ground. Thankfully he spared your underwear, but as his fingers languidly played with the strap of your bra, you wondered if he wouldn’t also reconsider letting you keep what remained of your decency.

“Tonight will be so good, meine Haustier,” his voice sounded hoarse, thick with anticipation as he hovered over you, nuzzling his face into your hair, “… This reminds me a lot of the night I brought you home. Maybe I am just feeling nostalgic, having you down here with me again, but it’s hard not to get wrapped up in such fond memories.”

He chuckled, “I’m thankful I was able to reel myself in back then and keep you, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise.” He pointed his knife to the unconscious body on the floor, “This one I brought here today won’t be nearly as fun as you were, so I don’t want you to feel jealous, alright? You’re where you are for a reason, just as they are where they are for a reason. Mein Liebchen, I’m so glad I can share this moment with you...”

He pressed in closer to you, an unmistakable bulge in his pants grazing the exposed flesh of your leg as he did so. You both shuddered at the brief contact, though his reaction was for reasons far different than your own.

“This intimacy is nice, don’t you think? Sharing your passions with those close to you is what meaningful relationships are allllll about.”

He pulled away from you slightly, pressing the blade of his knife under your chin. Wincing at the briefest of contact with the blade, you raised your head to avoid slicing of your chin, stopping once you were eye to eye with Strade. Your noses nearly touched as he took in the features of your face, smiling at the sheer horror reflected in your eyes.

“And I want to remind you just how passionate I can be~”

He spun you around, giving you an abrupt shove. Unable to keep your balance you fell forward, your knees colliding with the stony floor. A hiss of pain slipped past your lips at the contact as Strade kneeled down next to you, tangling his fingers once more in your hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled your head up, directing your attention to the far corner of the room.

With his guidance, your gaze landed on something new. A cage you couldn’t recall ever seeing filled your took up a sizable chunk of the side wall, making you wonder how you missed see it to begin with. How he got such an unwieldy contraption down the stairs previously without your notice was also lost on you. The thing looked far too heavy for one person to easily transport, even if it came in pieces.

It looked incredibly sturdy, each side comprised of thick, imposing iron bars. The cage was moderately sized- large enough for people to sit in, but not so large that it would be a comfortable arrangement. At a glance, it seemed to be made for a dog, but the girth of the bars and thick padlock on the door were completely unnecessary features for a canine, even the largest and most aggressive dog breeds wouldn’t need something so robust to keep them contained. Strade must have had it special made, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was made for. You clenched your fists, fighting the queasiness that this new facet of the day brought to the table. You knew the cage shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but you couldn’t help but be a bit addled by it. You briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much he would spend to fuel his sick intentions.

The cage sat off to the side, out of the way of the main walkway and slightly hidden behind the stairs so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was still close enough to the rest of the rooms fixtures that anyone trapped inside would have a clear view or what was happening around them. Which you figured was the point. What better seat for an unwilling audience?

“I originally bought this for Ren, but he was much easier to house train then you were.” Strade laughed, removing his hand from your hair to clap you on the shoulder. He turned his gaze to Ren who stood by the cage expectantly, waiting to fulfill his role in the nights unfolding misery. “Why don’t you show her inside, Ren? Get yourselves all comfy for the show.”

With a quick nod, Ren scampered in before you, giving you just enough room to squeeze in beside him. Nestling in, he turned to you with a strange mix of fear and anticipation in his eyes, patting the area next to you with a small smile on his lips.

“Come in, (Name),” he looked up at you through his lashes, bashful despite the situation he willingly crawled into, “There’s plenty of room.”

Strade gave you no opportunity to refute his invitation, dragging you along the floor by the collar until you arrived at the cages entrance. You gagged as the spikes dug into your flesh, your fingers attempting to find purchase and pull them out. But your grip kept slipping, the blood that coated each metallic link making it impossible to pry away.

At the entrance, Strade quickly unlatched your adjoining leash, pushing the side of his foot against your ass to shove you into the cage, treating you much the same way you would a misbehaving dog. He slammed the door behind you the moment your limbs were barely through the door, preventing you from backtracking. He hastily secured the huge padlock after he did so, effectively trapping you and Ren inside.

“I know you’ll watch, but I can’t trust her,” Strade spoke to Ren, kneeling down so that he was eye level with the two of you, “Latch her collar to the top bar, I want her focused.”

Ren was quick to follow orders, contorting himself around you so he could bind you to the cage. Part of you hoped he would show mercy, sneakily attaching the collar to a lower bar on the cage to give you more breathing room. As you felt the spikes dig farther into your skin that dream dashed from your mind. You choked back a sob as you heard the clasp click into place behind you, Ren planting a fleeting kiss to the top of your head as he did so, his way of begging forgiveness for the pain he was helping inflict

Sitting with your back completely straight, you kept your legs tucked under you, the full weight of your body supported by your knees. The slightest bit of slouching, leaning, or turning your head would plunge the spikes into your already torn up neck, amplifying your suffering. Locked into place, you were left with no choice but to sit at attention.

Maybe you could have unclasped the collar yourself for a bit of reprieve, you were sure after some blind fumbling you could figure out how to free yourself. But stuck behind a formidable lock with Strade on the other side, what would be the point? There was no place for you to run to, and if you disobeyed Strade at this point you were a sitting duck. A heavy sense of resignation settled in your soul. You no longer fought the tears that came to your eyes, letting them freely dribble down your checks to land in soft drops on your lap.

With no hope of escape, that left you with one option to get through this-endure.

“Überraschung,” Strade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stared down at you with wild, manic eyes. “What a sight this is! I must say (Name), even though your overall your obedience has improved, you still have quite the rebellious streak, don’t you?” He leaned down to get a better view of you, breathing deeply as his face began turning red from excitement, “Not that I don’t like when you get feisty, training and domesticating wild animals is something I take great pleasure in after all. But I have to say, seeing you like this?” He released an elongated, low whistle. “Schön. Keeping you has been worth it for moments like this. You really are a treat, behavioral issues and all.”

He exhaled as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving yours. “This is good, natural even. You belong here, (Name). Chained up like that… You’re right where you are supposed to be.”

His words were shaky, his composure slipping as his tongue trailed his bottom lip. The flush of his cheeks was now also creeping down his neck, ardent lust seeping from his expression. You shivered. Were it not for these bars separating you, you loathed to think what atrocities he would commit against you in this amped up state.

You bit back the retort that threatened to spill from your quivering jaw, biting so hard on your bottom lip you tasted blood. You hated him, loathed him with your entirety, but you also understood that one misspoken word was all it would take for you to be swapped with whatever unfortunate soul was tied to that pole. Despite it all, you still wanted to live. Clinging to the hope that someday you would get the chance to leave this place behind and return to the life that was stolen from you.

Making your freedom a reality was your daily affirmation you repeated to yourself, the one thing that truly kept you going. You made a promise to yourself that Strade would someday turn into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, a dirty smear in your past, and you very much intended to keep that promise. You would someday live out the rest of your life happy and safe, surrounded by friends and family, people you loved and who would love you in turn. Maybe you would even get married, have a kid or two.

Part of you knew thinking that way was foolish, and it usually caused you more despair than bringing you any true peace. But even if it was a silly dream, it was all you had. Strade has already stolen everything else, so you clung to your dream as your only salvation, relying on it as a means of survival.

You had to make it through this, you had to get away and rebuild yourself from the shattered pieces Strade had broken you into. Not just for yourself, but for everyone he had ever murdered and brutalized. It was the only way you could beat him. It was the only way you could win.

“Well, no point in making any of us wait any longer,” Strade announced as he turned on his heel, making his way over to the slumped form in the center of the room. Your heart went out to them as he directed his full attention their way, staring down at them with a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. “This is pretty new for me too, ya know? Usually this is ‘me’ time, moments I can work and enjoy myself with the new friends I bring in in peace. But having a live audience? That’s sure gonna add some thrill to this.”

He turned his attention back towards you and Ren, his face glowing in excitement. “And I figured what the hell! It’s Christmas, right? Why be greedy when I can share in the celebration! Ren already loves watching my little home movies, so I thought, ‘why not do a special live performance for my two favorite individuals?’”

Your body lurched in horror as Strade abruptly kicked his hostage square in the stomach, the force of it waking them with an agonized groan. You gasped as they coughed in pain, spit and blood sputtering from their mouth as slowly they came to. You watched on in morbid silence, a frown spreading across your lips when as you noticed the dawning horror that came over them. They were no longer in an ignorant fog of sleep, fully aware now that something truly dreadful was about to happen to them.

Terrified recognition filled their eyes when they landed on Strade. Instantly they started to cry, whimper and plead, leaving you to wonder just how badly things went down between the two of them before you all ended up down here.

Trembles wracked your body, each quiver faintly clanging the metal of your collar against the cage. How you yearned to deafen your ears, gouge out your eyes, or will yourself away from what was unfolding before you. The mere thought of witnessing the oncoming torture, reliving your own capture through this doomed sod… it was all too much. If given the opportunity, you would have done anything to flee and hide.

But there was no running from this. You couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t do anything at all.

“Hey buddy, calm down!” Strade spoke in a light hearted manner, invading the captive’s personal space as he crouched down in front of them. “Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Since you were looking so sad all alone at that bar last night I decided to play the role of Santa and give you a little gift! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, because no one deserves to be alone on the holiday, right? And look,” He roughly grabbed their chin, forcing their tear stained face towards your cage, “I even brought friends to assure you wouldn’t be lonely! Pretty thoughtful of me, huh?”

You averted your stare as soon as they made eye contact, unable to stand the sheer hopelessness reflected in their forlorn gaze. Their whimpering and pleading continued, unfettered by the dialogue Strade was droning on. The desperation in their voice as they tried to reason with the most unreasonable man on the planet was making your skin crawl, irritation setting your face into a scowl. Couldn’t they see how amped up Strade was? Were they really so deluded to think their incessant begging would do them any favors? Did they not realize their cries were just exciting him more?

Eventually, you squeezed your eyes closed, wanting a break from it all even for a few seconds. Their naivety was driving you insane- a cruel reminder of the person you once were.

Suddenly, an ear splitting scream pieced the air, causing your eyes to fly open. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you saw Strade’s signature knife protruding from the captive’s leg, his hand still wrapped firmly around the handle, wriggling it further into their meat. The blade was buried deep, deep enough to cause true damage, and the blood that gushed from the new wound quickly gathered in a morbid puddle beneath their legs. If left unattended, you were sure they may bleed out, dying in slow agony.

“Oops, maybe I went a bit too deep there,” Strade nonchalantly spoke, pulling the knife carelessly from their leg. They released another sharp cry at the blades exit, squirming in pain and misery as blood sputtered from the gash. Strade continued to speak, unfettered by the gore that splashed against his leg, “But you weren’t listening very well when I was trying to talk earlier, so hopefully that’ll help you focus. I’ll try and be more mindful though, don’t wanna do too much too soon. You’re the star of the show today buddy, can’t have you dipping out on us before we even get started.”

Strade cut a piece of fabric from their victim’s shirt, tying it sloppily around the gaping wound he inflicted. It wasn’t placed as a means to help them so much as a way to help staunch the bleeding to keep them lucid for as long as possible. If there was one thing Strade hated, it was his fun being prematurely cut short.

“Well,” Strade slapped his knees, lifting himself up to his full height, “Usually I like to get to know you a little better before we get to this point, but what with my special guests and all, we don’t have as much time as I would have liked to become acquainted.”

Your eyes trailed Strade as he walked over to a tripod sitting off to the side. Your eyes widened as he reached for it, setting it up with skilled expertise as he had done so many times before. His captive stared blankly at the camera, clearly confused as to what awaited them. You couldn’t decide if their ignorance was a tragedy or a godsend. If they knew this was their final moment of relative peace before their violent end… Would they try an appreciate it, or would that just bring them more dismay?

After the main camera was set up to his liking, he made his way towards you and Ren. You stiffened at he approached, a new spike of anxiety rising within you as he fiddled with something in his pocket. It was your turn for confusion now, staring in perplexion as he pulled out another small camera, setting it up so that it faced your cage. After some finagling to get it just right, the small red light on it turned green.

“There we go,” Strade smiled, tying his signature bandana around his mouth after he completed his setup, his wide eyes gleaming with cruel intent, “Figured the viewers at home deserved a little special something, too. Smile for the camera you two!”

Shame flushed your exposed body as you did all you could to avoid looking into the camera’s nebulous, black lens. You curled yourself up as much as physically possible, revolted by the realization that other sickos were tuning in, getting off to an impending murder and your humiliation. How many people were on the other side of that small orb, desperately waiting for Strade to begin so they could scratch their fucked up itch? How many pairs of eyes were roving over your barely clothed, bloody body right now, pleased for such an enticing appetizer before they dug into the main course? You didn’t know what disgusted you more, Strade himself or the fact that he had enough ‘fans’ out there that were of a similar mindset, who avidly watched and supported him enough that he could live comfortably off live-streaming his slaughters.

After some brief adjustments (apparently your camera wasn’t focused enough, the ‘fans’ were complaining about not having a clear shot of ‘the bitch’s stupid, sniveling face’), Strade eventually made his way back over to the main camera, flicking it on and checking the feed on a nearby laptop to make sure everything was looking as it should. Once he was satisfied, he hopped in front of the camera, the jovial smile on his face noticeable even behind his mask.

“Frohe Weihnachten an alle! Oh wait,” he fished around in a drawer beneath his laptop, eventually yielding a slightly wrinkled Santa’s hat that he plopped gleefully upon his head. “That’s better! How is everyone doing this fine, festive holiday?”

Strade’s eyes scanned over the chat, laughing here and there as he read peoples responses. “I see you all noticed the new edition to the party. Ren, (Name), why don’t you give the nice people watching at home a smile?”

Refusing to acknowledge his deluded request, you kept your eyes to the floor, focusing on anything else but the situation you were in. Your legs ached from your balancing act, the impression of the cold cage bars long since deeply engraved in your skin. You grimaced when you tried to reposition them, the bastard could have at least thrown a towel in here for you.

Strade responded to a few more ‘questions’ before releasing a low whistle. “Hey now,” he chided, his voice holding a warning edge to it “I’m happy to share my cute pets with you, but some things only I get to see, yeah? Get your minds out of the gutter, the requests for the day aren’t for them, they’re for our latest catch.”

Strade scratched the back of his head, looking towards you with an amused twinkle in his eye. “I think you two may be a bigger hit then our new friend! A little rude to our guest, but I can’t say I blame the masses.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “But enough talk. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

He made his way over to his tool wall, his finger trailing the varying allotment of devices he owned. He stopped briefly, looking back towards the camera with lidded eyes. “So what are you guys feeling? Should we bust out our old friend the drill, or maybe something a bit more colorful, like the new handsaw I purchased the other day?”

The captive began to struggle with renewed intensity against their binds, thrashing about in a final attempt of escape. Their cries for help turned into wailing screeches, screaming and cursing as loud as they could muster in the hope that someone would magically hear them and come to their rescue. You hissed under your breath angrily, wishing they had never been caught, wishing they could spend Christmas with their family, wishing they would just shut up, wishing this would all end.

“Ohhh, we got a lively one~” Strade purred, grabbing a tomahawk off a nearby hook as he eyed chat, “and I agree with the majority here, it’s best to start off slow. Let’s begin with some little stuff and work up to the main event, really taking our time to enjoy this wonderful moment together.” He eyed the tool in his hand, picking at a remainder of a price tag that stuck stubbornly to the handle. “You may not believe me, but I only purchased this little guy to help with some pesky overgrowth in my yard, not to use on my company. Guess it can’t hurt to test out its sharpness and strength beforehand though, can it?”

Your heart palpitated as Strade stalked his way over to his cornered victim, mutely praying that some act of god would occur that would keep them from being decimated. He towered over them, thoughtfully musing on where he wanted to begin, what part of their body he wanted to mutilate first. He absent mindedly tossed the tomahawk from one hand to the next as he considered his plan of attack, sizing up his prey as if they were nothing more than a slab of meat. You struggled briefly against your binding in last ditch effort to shield yourself you from the ‘show’. But like a cruel child jabbing their fingers into you when you weren’t paying them enough attention to them, the spikes gave you a torturous reminder of the position you had been assigned to play in this performance.

Oddly enough, the stab of the protrusions didn’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. Maybe your body was adapting to the cruelties Strade subjugated it to, or maybe you were finally becoming desensitized to everything you had been forced to experience. Maybe someday it would get to the point where you could be completely unfeeling, like a robot just going through the motions as Strade lived out his wicked life, you forcefully in tow. It was almost a comforting thought, whatever adjustments your body and soul had to make to assure your continued survival, so be it.

However, if the pit forming in your stomach and sweat drenching your brow as you watched Strade inch closure and closure to his victim was any indicator, you were sure something inside of you would always hold on to amity, reminding you just how painfully human you were, heart-breaking empathy and all.

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,’ you chanted in your head, fresh tears carving slick trails down your cheeks when Strade kick their leg, digging the heel of their boot harshly into their stab wound. Bright red bloomed around the fabric covering the wound, their screams growing gravelly the longer they strained their vocal cords. You did your best to hold back the worst of your sobs, rogue sniffles and hiccups escaping despite your best efforts. If there was an afterlife, you hoped that theirs was full of nothing but warmth, peace, and all the things they love. It was the least they deserved for this.

You were vaguely aware of Ren repositioning himself next to you, his head nestling against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, shielding you slightly in an almost protective manner. Pressed so close, you could feel that he was shivering, his heart beating a mile a minute as it thrummed against your skin. Whether it was from fear, excitement, or both, you were unable to say.

Strade turned around, giving you one last mirthful glance as he readied his tomahawk over the toes of his captive’s right foot. Though they squirmed intensely, he held a death grip on the limb, keeping them from breaking free. “Make sure to pay close attention now,” desire radiated from his demeanor, voice husky as narrowed eyes briefly roved your restrained form “and don’t feel too neglected over there, I’ll make sure to save some of the fun juuust for you once I finish with our pal over here.”

His eyes darted to the camera, shooting it a look of mock sympathy “For my eyes only of course, you all understand right? Thank you for being here friends, and Frohe Weihnachten für mich!~”

He slammed the blade down. A blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the room as their toes disconnected from the rest of their foot, signaling the beginning of their end.

And you sat like a statue, cold and rigid as your unwilling eyes bore witness to each act of savagery.

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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

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doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere albedo #yandere albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x you #albedo x you #tw dubcon

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years ago

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Where I Think the OH Gang Ends Up - HCs

After 3 books of falling in love with these characters, I thought I’d share my HCs for where these characters end up - including some about Charlie and Ethan’s future. Obviously, this varies because I’m a Ethan romancer, so I could make different versions depending on your LI. Included is where they live, their jobs, and their personal lives.

If you have any questions/HCs, feel free to reach out, and I hope you enjoy this!

Location: Boston, MA

Career: Diagnostician Specializing in Pediatrics

After her residency, Sienna worked at Edenbrook for a year before deciding to complete a fellowship in Pediatrics at Edenbrook, where she focused on diagnostics in children, particularly in conditions that are rare or difficult to diagnose.

During her fellowship, this field proved difficult mentally and emotionally, but Sienna’s resilience and strength, coupled with her passion for her patients, made her a leading figure in her field.

She stayed on at Edenbrook, where she bridged the gap between pediatrics and diagnostics.

Personal Life:

When all her friends started leaving Boston after residency, Sienna acted as the “glue” holding them together. She organized Zoom calls, visits, and group vacations. She also gets the best gossip as a result.

She stayed close with the whole group and regularly sees those who remained in Boston.

She still goes to see Danny’s mom for coffee and fresh baked goods.

Sienna met her husband through work. Her patient’s fourth-grade class organized a trip to show their support for their classmate. Andy was their teacher. Six months after they started dating, Sienna knew Andy was the one. She was baking cookies for her next meeting with Danny’s mom, and Andy not only offered to go with her but started helping her bake.

The gang is still very protective of Sienna – so much so that they all rushed to meet Andy to see if they approved. After all, only the best could deserve her.

When Sienna and Andy got married, everyone was so happy for them. But they were probably even happier a few years later when they started their family.

It took some adjustments, but Sienna adapted to her new work and family life balance like a pro – even if it meant she barely slept for those first few years.

Location: Boston, MA

Career: Diagnostician, Co-Head of the Diagnostics Team, Department Head

At the culmination of her residency, Charlie Greene probably could have gone anywhere she wanted, but she wanted to stay with her team. Even as she watched some of her friends go off to start new lives, she felt committed to Edenbrook.

However, it would have been easy for Ethan to stifle her career ambitions purely by taking up too much room and not leaving enough for her to grow. He wanted her to prosper though, so he had to step back when necessary.

Over time, the team dynamic shifted so that they were leading it together, so she deserved the title.

She proved to be an excellent doctor, teammate, researcher, and leader. So, when she was named head of the department many years later, it was an honor well deserved – even if it was one she later started to appreciate less once she realized the amount of paperwork involved.

She’s worked hard for everything she’s achieved, and she’s not done achieving it.

Personal Life:

Charlie married Ethan Ramsey, and after everything they’d been through, saying those vows came with a sigh of relief and joy.

Despite conversations about leaving Boston to be closer to family, they never did. Boston had become home.

They started a family with children, dogs, and a townhouse. They invited Ethan’s dad and Charlie’s parents to holidays, and Charlie’s friends had an open invitation to visit her.

It would be wrong to say that everything was easy, but they were happy.

Location: Boston, MA → Stanford, CA → Boston, MA

Career: Researcher & Attending at a Medical School & its Affiliated Hospital

Elijah went straight into research at Edenbrook after his residency. After a few years of learning from his coworkers and growing as a researcher, he published his research. He received the opportunity to leave Edenbrook and join a research team at Stanford University, and it was too good of an offer to pass up.

Elijah spent the next few years researching at Stanford as an academic, but once their research was published, he decided that pure academia wasn’t the right environment for him.

His impeccable research skills and high recommendations earned him job offers at university-affiliated teaching hospitals where he could do research and engage with patients. He accepted a position in Boston that met his research needs and brought him closer to home.

Elijah’s research contributions went on to help countless patients.

He continued to publish his research and lead several teams, all the way until he was leading his very own lab. By the end of his career, he was a top lecturer at a premier medical school.

Personal Life:

At the end of their residency, Elijah was the least afraid of the distance now separating him from his friends. His familiarity with his technology and his love for the gang meant that he was ready to keep them so digitally connected that they hardly noticed the separation.

Still, he missed them. And he missed Boston when he left, too.

Elijah was never too concerned about finding a partner, so he wouldn’t have minded ending up alone. In fact, for a long time, he thought he would.

Then, he met a fellow researcher, Alicia, at a convention. They bonded over their favorite comic books and their work. Though Alicia lived in Connecticut, they started dating, and within a few years, they were married in Boston. A few years later, they had kids and a shared google calendar blocking out their research days and family time.

Location: Miami, FL

Career: Surgeon

As the star resident, Bryce wasn’t particularly surprised when Edenbrook offered him a full-time position at the culmination of his residency. He fully intended it to take it, too.

But then there was the recruiter from Miami. He entertained the offer primarily for his ego, but something about it struck a nerve. One of his career idols was offering to take him under wing there, and even though Bryce had finished his residency, there was still so much he wanted to learn. He only visited to find out more – not because he intended to accept – but Miami allured him. The familiar heat, sea breeze, and electric energy captivated him.

It was a difficult decision, but ultimately, Bryce packed his bags and moved to Miami (even if he secretly cried about it and facetimed his friends constantly).

There, he prospered and honed his skills as a young surgeon.

When MC (Charlie) visits, it’s clear that Bryce and his mentor have a very similar relationship to that of Ethan and Naveen. So, it isn’t a surprise when Bryce assumes his mentor’s role after his retirement and heads the department – nor is it a surprise when Bryce’s surgical prowess became known outside Miami.

Bryce’s favorite achievement is the Lahela Method, a surgical method he developed, perfected, and popularized.

Personal Life:

Having finished his residency two years after everyone else, he thought he would be ready to leave Boston and his friends, but he wasn’t. They had become his family, and even with their strong bond and efforts to stay close, he missed them.

Leaving for Miami was difficult, but he made friends and kept in touch with the gang.

Bryce was too focused on work to ever start a serious relationship. He preferred casual flings and short romances to long-term relationships.

He’d been in Miami for two years when Kyra came into town for her extended visit. She only planned to stay in his guest room for two weeks, but she ended up staying for a month. He didn’t mind. In fact, he encouraged her to stay. He missed her and liked having her around – so much so that he convinced her to move to Miami.

Kyra was always looking for an adventure, and Miami looked like one. She moved in a few blocks from Bryce, and despite her intentions to soak up Miami, they basically spent all their time together.

He wasn’t sure when he fell in love with her.

But he did. Their friendship turned into a friendship with benefits. Then that got complicated with feelings. Then those feelings became more than feelings. And before either knew it, they were irrevocably in love. Despite never wanting to be tied down, they were tied to each other.

Bryce proposed, but it took them over a year to set a date because they were too busy living their crazy lives. They had so many plans – trips they wanted to take, a house they wanted to buy, and kids they might want to have – but they’re finding their way on their adventure.

Location: Miami, FL

Career: Influencer & Author

Though Kyra enjoyed working at Edenbrook (and really liked making money instead of incurring medical debt), she wouldn’t say that working in hospital administration was her dream.

She became restless, and she traded hospital administration for a series of other jobs.

Kyra started posting more and more on social media, and as she became more comfortable, she started being vulnerable about her health, the scars it left, and how she moved forward. She built a community of people experiencing similar things, and it sparked a passion in her.

Kyra dedicated her time to learning about social media to grow her following and continue sharing resources. A few of her posts went viral, and that was the catalyst to start her career.

After sharing content for a while, Kyra had the opportunity to publish her memoirs – a witty, funny look at her life that was inspiring, hilarious, and beloved by many.

Personal Life:

Kyra didn’t just become restless in her professional life. She also became restless in Boston. She did all the things to do in the city – explored all the crevices and exploited all the excitement. Even though she had been in remission for years, she still craved a full and exciting life.

She started traveling, often to the cities where she had friends who let her crash on their couch.

That’s how she got to Miami.

And how she inadvertently fell in love with Bryce Lahela.

Kyra and Bryce loved their life, and they lived it to the fullest. They took risks. They ate interesting dishes, went to exotic locations, and learned new things. They visited their friends and became the cool aunt and uncle to their families.

Kyra stayed in remission. To celebrate five cancer-free years, she and Bryce got matching buzz-cuts. On the next anniversary, they got matching tattoos.

Location: Washington D.C.

Career: Diagnostician & Activist

Jackie never intended to become an activist for healthcare reform, but once she stumbled into it, she developed a passion for the work after her unfortunate involvement with Panacea Labs. She even moved to D.C. to pursue lobbying.

She kept working as a diagnostician, but as her involvement in healthcare reform increased, she took a lesser load at the hospital so she could start working as an activist professionally. As a healthcare professional herself, she took her experience and used it to inform her activism and her lobbying to encourage Big Pharma reform.

She also worked with nonprofits to help struggling doctors and med students like herself find resources and emphasize ethics.

A woman on a mission, nothing could stop her.

Personal Life:

Though Jackie found her passion in D.C., she didn’t find the love of her life as easily. She was too busy to make anything work. She stumbled in and out of relationships. Her true companion became her dog and her high-rise apartment.

Jackie might not have been able to maintain a romance, but she maintained her friendships. She visited frequently and adored their children.

She liked being in charge, and she liked having things her way. It probably serves her right to have fallen in love with the only woman more stubborn than her.

Sonia was a public service lawyer, and she and Jackie spent their time bickering and adoring each other. They were both career-driven and supported each other’s mission.

Location: New York City, NY

Career: Head of Diagnostics

Aurora spent her time in Boston making peace with her aunt’s legacy, but at the end of Aurora’s residency, she was ready to start her career and make a mark of her own.

In New York, she started working for a diagnostics department, and she earned a spot on the diagnostics team once it was formed. She worked hard. She made a name for herself. She proved that Harper wasn’t the only Dr. Emery to keep an eye on.

Once on the team, she helped elevate it to the point that it rivaled her own hospital, Edenbrook. She often came into contact with her friend, MC (Charlie). The teams even competed on occasion.

Aurora beat MC by becoming the first to head a diagnostics team.

She was an excellent leader and an exemplary physician. The team prospered, and the rivalry with Edenbrook playfully continued.

Personal Life:

For Aurora, career and academic efforts came easily, but interpersonal affairs were treacherous. Still, after finding friends in Boston, she was determined to maintain those friendships and develop new ones in New York.

The friends she made in residency were now her family, and she kept in touch.

In New York, Aurora was slow to make friends, but she did. She formed a close bond with her team and shared an apartment with a team member for a time.

Like her aunt, Aurora went without romantic commitment – until she started research with Dr. Alice Montgomery. Aurora fell head over heels, and despite a few stops and starts, they started a happy, healthy relationship.

Location: Boston, MA → Brazil → Boston, MA

Career: Physical Therapist at Edenbrook

Personal Life

Rafael took the big leap and moved to Brazil. He spent two amazing years living in Brazil, traveling and making unforgettable memories before moving back to Boston.

Once back, he thought about saving up for more travels and spending his young adulthood moving around the globe, but after he got home, he couldn’t bear to leave for that long again. He opted for vacations instead and reinvested in his community.

Leaving his childhood neighborhood didn’t stop him from being an active community member. He volunteered regularly and made friends almost everywhere he went.

Of course, he also went back to his neighborhood to see his family regularly, but he liked having the independence of his own place and his own community.

Once he married and started talking about having children, Raf moved back to his childhood neighborhood so he could raise his child with the same level of community and love he experienced.

When everyone came back into town, they always stopped by his place for good food and an even better friend.

He stayed in touch with everyone, especially during his travels, and his friends had an open invitation to visit.

#open heart #open heart 3 #choices #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey #sienna trinh #bryce lahela #aurora emery #rafael aveiro #Jackie Varma #Elijah greene #pixelberry #Kyra santana #still can't decide if I like this but I made it so here we go

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geckosong · 4 years ago

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Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve.

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright?

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.

#anime #anime recommendation #zankyou no terror #terror in resonance #toilet bound hanako kun #kids on the slope #hyouka #tonari no seki kun #my neighbor seki #classroom of the elite #the morose mononokean #beyond the boundary #mekakucity actors #angels of death #stars align

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herohotline · 4 years ago

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Wet Clay (P.5)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Summary: You’ve got your own handful of problems- being a counselor doesn’t mean you can’t also have anxiety or feel overwhelmed by it all.

A/N: it’s finally here!! thank god!! and thank you everyone who was so patient waiting for the new part. i honestly had a lot of fun making this new chapter- i wanted it to be a bit longer as a Thank You for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy it, and look forward to the next chapter!

Word Count: 5,500+

Tag List: @babayaga67, @cosmichorse95, @sugacookiies, @howthe-f-didigethere, @rintomoj, @missadorable96

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Technically-not-but-still-technically House Arrest is finally over, much to your relief.

You, Bakugo, and Midoriya were finally freed from Aizawa’s punishment and proceeded with your regular schedules. And while Bakugo and Midoriya have a lot of catching up to do, the same goes for you.

Which you weren’t expecting at all, but you’re pleasantly surprised by a few students standing at your office on your first day back greeting you and asking for a scheduled meeting.

Slowly but surely, word of you and your practice has been moving around the school, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Especially since it got out that you were able to have a successful session with Bakugo, of all people, the students seem to suddenly have a newfound interest in trying therapy that wasn’t there before. It’s the progress you’ve been waiting for to report to Nezu, letting him know that students even outside of the hero course were asking about therapy.

Due to your agreement, you couldn’t give them a session. Your time was pointed strictly at the hero classes for the time being, but it wouldn’t always be that way. You had the interested students fill out a simple questionnaire once the idea popped in your head, which helped you immensely for your reports to Nezu.

They were simple questions, not asking anything too personal, of course. Things like, ‘why does therapy interest you?’, ‘what problems would you like to talk about?’, and ‘what are some of the things that stress you daily?’

The answers you received confirmed that you were right from the beginning- U.A needed a proper counseling team hired, and it would be best if it was sooner rather than later.

And on top of all that good news (though kids needing therapy admittedly wasn’t the best news, but at least it was being assessed instead of being ignored), Nezu agreed with you! After hearing and reading your reports on the students, he agreed to start working with you to begin making after-school programs and looking for professionals to hire. It would take a few weeks, if not more, but the beginning of your dream for U.A was finally taking big steps, and it was overwhelmingly exciting.

You haven’t been able to fill anybody in on your news quite yet, but your change in attitude was noticeable by the staff and the students. It’s especially noticeable to the staff when you come in one morning, cups of coffee and tea hot and ready that you had bought for them when they came into the Teacher’s Lounge before class.

Yamada enters with Kayama, whistling low as he quickly walks over and inspects the cups. “Ho-hey!” He exclaims. “What’s all this?”

“Good morning, Yamada,” you smile at him and nudge a cup his way, which he takes with a gleeful hum. “I was just feeling good this morning and I’m really thankful to how much everyone has helped me settle in, so I figured I could buy everyone a drink.” Kayama walks up as well, grabbing one of the teas, surprising you with her choice.

She notices, a deep frown on her lips. “You tempt me, honey, but I have to watch my figure!” She gestures to her body, which is on full display at all hours. Not that you’re a prude, but it makes you wonder how the pubescent boys and girls feel while in her presence. You’re not envious of them. “But I appreciate you very much, thank you.”

“It’s no problem, I’ll make sure to try and get something better for you next time,”

“Oh, don’t worry! A little tea won’t hurt me.” Kayama quickly waves off your concerns and she sits on one of the chairs available in the admittedly small room. “So? Why’re you so happy?” She raises an eyebrow, and before she can ask-

“Nothing that you’re assuming, I’m sure,” you tell her quickly. “Truthfully, it’s because my work is going well. My tenure here might actually be useful- Nezu and I are talking specifics on hiring other counselors, now.”

Yamada cheers, as loud as ever, “really?! Good job!” He wraps an arm around you and shakes you- if the coffee hadn’t woken you up before, you were surely awake now with his energy! “Does that mean you’ll be staying?” Kayama perks up from her seat.

“Oh, does it? It would be so nice to keep you around longer!”

“I’m not sure about that,” you laugh uneasily, “what the students really need is someone that can be fully devoted to them and their needs, you know? I can’t give that to them while I’m still working as a counselor on the side, and I’m really not sure if I can give up that job.”

“Aw,” Yamada frowns, keeping his arm secure around your shoulder as he looks down at you. The man was freakishly tall, honestly. “Shouta will be so bummed. Do you know how long your tenure lasts?”

“I sort of hoped you were giving up on that,” you deflate. “But, no, I’m not very sure. But it’s probably not for much longer. A month more, maybe two at most. Then I’ll be leaving.”

“Leaving?”

You and Yamada turn your head towards the door, and you get a face full of his hair, making you sputter and sneeze as he laughs at you and apologizes (but it doesn’t sound like he’s sorry). You shove him away so you can actually look at Yagi, dressed in his usual baggy, bright yellow suit.

“Morning, Yagi,” you greet him tiredly. If you said before that you were energized by Yamada’s behavior, you take it back now. He’s actually exhausting. “Yes, eventually. I’m not officially hired, you know.”

“I must have forgotten,” Yagi mumbles under his breath, looking equally tired but thankful as you nudge a cup of tea his way and he takes a long sip. You remember him telling you that coffee was one of the things on his long, long list that his stomach couldn’t handle. “I’m getting too old, probably.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Kayama asks from her seat and Yagi smiles.

“That’s a good question,” he says, and then looks to you. “You’re leaving in a month or so, though? That’s unfortunate, Shouta will miss you.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nice job avoiding the question, pro-hero,”

“I swear the two of you never quit it!”

The three of you talk over one another at the same time, and after a moment’s silence, burst into laughter together. Despite everything, these people had quickly become your friends, and chatting with them like this every morning was a part of what made the extra stress and work all worth it. “I’ll miss all of you when I have to leave, I mean it,” you tell them once the laughter subsides, and Kayama coos.

“We’ll miss you, too. I’m sure the students will as well, you’ve grown on them.”

“That’s true… I don’t feel good about the whole making-a-relationship-and-bowing-out thing. It takes a long time for a child to feel comfortable talking to you about their issues, and I finally have that! And now that I'd have to leave…” You sigh heavily as you rest against one of the tables, crossing your arms at your chest.

“Give it some more thought, then,” Kayama suggests. “Everyone would be happy to keep you around, including Nezu. Think about all your options before you make any decisions.”

It’s good advice, but the truth is, you’ve already done that.

The time you’ve spent at U.A has been amazing, yes, but you’ve never been more overworked in your life. The stress of keeping up your two professional jobs has you tossing and turning at night, and the burden of feeling like you’re going to let everyone down isn’t good for your mental state, either. For your own health, you can’t keep working the way you are now.

You’re going to have to choose. And it hurts you more than anything.

Despite all of that, you smile at Kayama. “You’re right,” you say, and you try not to sound as tired as you feel, “I’ll think about it.”

—-

The first thing you have to do with your new duties from Nezu is put together after-school affairs. He doesn’t give you a lot to go off of- he just wants you to put together some sort of event or club that the students can go to after hours that will be good for them. Nezu is nice, but he gives you too much freedom. It’s hard to create ideas all on your own and be the judge on if they’re worth the school’s time and money or not.

You’ve thought of several things. The thing you’re trying to do is create an original idea that isn’t purely formed around therapy , per se, but a way for students to vent their problems in a healthy and calm environment. Your best idea has been a little something you called ‘food for thought’, a baking club students can go to where they can learn to bake and cook a variety of simple dishes, and while they bake, everyone gets a turn talking about something that’s bothered them or that they’re working through, no judgment. It can be a bit therapeutic to cook in general for some people, and if you gave students the chance to vent during that time, you think it might be something healthy and fun. And then they could all eat snacks afterward.

...But you doubt yourself again and think about scrapping the idea. There’s too many variables- some students might not like the idea of group therapy like that, and some students might abuse the club by coming only for treats and ruin it for everyone else. Plus, not everyone likes to cook.

You groan and deflate in your seat, laying face-down on your desk. This is too hard…!

Out of nowhere, your phone vibrates. It makes you reluctantly pull your head up, grasping for the device and wincing at the bright screen when it turns on.

It’s one of your clients asking for an appointment.

You take a deep, tired breath in, and let it out slowly. Slowly you sit up in your chair and open one of your desk drawers, fumbling around for your planner and slapping it down on the desk as you open the text and start to ask for details.

Your schedule is crammed, a lot more than it used to be. You end up feeling guilty not being able to see your patient soon enough and give up some of your free time in order to see them. Not that they know that- they thank you and tell you they’ll see you soon, and the conversation is ended.

Somehow, you’re even more tired than before.

Eyes wander over to your plush, comfortable couch. It’s a tempting idea, but… the scattered papers full of drafts of ideas for an after school activity are staring at you, so you shake your head at the idea and try to focus on the papers instead. You can’t afford to nap right now, even though it sounds so, so nice right now.

Your eyes droop, but you can’t sleep. Absolutely not. Your shoulders sag.

You fall asleep slouched over your desk before you can even realize it.

—-

Waking up is surprising, because you didn’t remember falling asleep. It’s always odd when that happens- opening your eyes and forgetting you even closed them, so it has you sitting there like, wait, what ? For a few moments.

You’re not even at your desk like you remember being. Instead, you’re laying on your couch- something you very much remember wanting to do, but you hadn’t. You’re alone in your office too, which is even more odd. You don’t think you sleepwalk.

As you slowly sit up and stretch your tired limbs, you look at the clock on your wall and see that it reads 3:20- school is just about to end.

Drat. You were hoping to get more done before now…

You suppose that’s fine- you can always work more at home and email Nezu if you come up with a great idea by the end of the night, but you sort of doubt that will happen. You go back to your desk to start gathering your things, but from the corner of your eye, a bit of yellow catches your attention.

There’s a sticky note on your ‘food for thought’ paper. Your eyebrows spring up in curiosity as you lean forward to read it.

It’s not much. It just says ‘good idea’ and then there’s, strangely enough, a doodle of a cat giving a thumbs up. It’s not the best drawing you’ve ever seen, but it’s cute.

Kind of strange though. A cat? Who even wrote this, anyway? Who was in your office when you were asleep?

You doubt it was a student. You’re not really bothered, but… the sticky note says it was a good idea. You were doubtful about it, but the second opinion makes you rethink your decision.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea? According to the mysterious cat-doodler.

Hm. You pocket the sticky note, and then put the paper with details of your idea in your bag as you continue to pack up. Maybe if you run into one of the teachers on your way out, you can ask them what they think. You should have thought about that earlier, to be honest.

Quickly you pack up and lock your office. You’re going to miss the train home if you don’t hurry, after all, and you want to get out of the building before the bell rings and the students crowd the halls.

Fortunately, though, you spot Cementoss- Ishiyama- at the front doors, and you wave to catch his attention.

“Ishiyama! You're heading out, too?”

The cement-like man looks toward you, and he walks through the doors, holding it open for you. “Mm. I need to make it to an appointment,” he says simply.

“I see. You wouldn’t mind if I ran an idea by you really quick? It’s for the kids.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all, I just needed to get out before the children did.” You grin and tell him you were doing the same- and then you tell him about your after-school baking idea.

By the time you finish telling him the small details, you’ve walked to the school’s parking lot and Ishiyama looks interested in what you have to say. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all. It’s creative, and I think the students would like having something to do besides sitting in a circle and talking.”

“Right!” You animatedly burst for a second- and then bashfully smile at your outburst. “That’s what I was trying to do. I’m glad to hear that it might be worth it. For hires, we could maybe hire a cook, and then the therapist who’d be willing to lead the conversation. That’s where my worry comes in- we’d be paying two people at most, along with spending money on ingredients…”

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Ishiyama says, and he slowly comes to a stop in front of what is probably his car. It’s a big, heavy looking vehicle- which kind of makes sense. The guy probably weighs a lot and needs something he won’t crush into the ground. “We have plenty of ingredients and food left over from lunch time, and Lunchrush would be willing to chip in. It could be something that’s held once a week, maybe.”

“Ah, you’re right. I guess I just didn’t want to assume anything on his part, since he already does so much.”

Ishiyama laughs. “You’re very considerate, but don’t let that get in the way of exploring your ideas. And don’t let Nezu scare you- he’ll let you know if it works or not. If it doesn’t, that’s fine. You’re not wasting his time.”

The words are, quite frankly, reassuring. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that, and your body naturally relaxes a bit. “Yeah,” you smile at him, “you’re right. Thanks a lot, Ishiyama. I’ll let you go now- good luck with your appointment!” You wave at the cement-man as he enters his car, but right before he closes the door, you suddenly remember something as you light up. “Oh! I had one more question?”

He looks up at you as he keeps his door open.

“Do you know anyone that likes cats?”

The question is an odd one, and his cemented eyebrows raise in surprise, but you don’t really have a proper explanation. Ishiyama thinks about it, and then he says, “the only person I know who actively likes cats is Aizawa.”

It’s your turn to be surprised. Really? You had no idea.

“Huh,” you say aloud. “Well- anyway, thanks a lot for your input! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You wave off Ishiyama as he drives off, and once he’s gone, you pull out the sticky note still in your pocket. Aizawa likes cats, huh…? He might have been the person who looked over your paper, then, and he probably moved you over to the couch when you fell asleep at your desk.

The thought makes your chest warm. That was certainly nice of him, if that’s the case. But- ah!

The school bell rings, and you jolt into action. If you’re not quick, you’re going to miss your train home!

—-

Your phone had died on the train ride home.

It was tragic, honestly, because that meant you didn’t have anything to distract yourself with as you swayed in the crowded cart during your long ride home. No music, no texts, no articles… you busted yourself by reading the ads on the ceiling of the train, but there was only so much to read, honestly.

By the time you got home, you quickly plugged in your phone and started to make yourself some dinner. It wasn’t until after your dinner, which was just some quick and easy curry and rice from a package, that you were able to look at your phone again.

There’s several text messages waiting for you.

Some of them are from Yamada, and then there’s a few from a client of yours. But there’s an odd contact among them that you never saw in your messages.

Who knew Shouta actually texted people? He seems like the call-only type.

You click on his messages first. There’s three of them, all sent at different times during the day.

Shouta (7:43am): Thank you for the drinks. Glad to hear your work is going well.

You wonder who told him, but you figure it was probably Yamada.

Shouta (1:30pm): If you keep sleeping during work hours, you’re going to want to get a sleeping bag.

So it was him who was in your office! You should have known he’d be a cocky bastard about it, too.

Shouta (4:10pm): Bakugo only yelled five times today?

The last one was kind of funny. Without thinking, you reply back to him.

You (6:45pm): Thanks for the sleeping bag idea, but I’ll pass for now. It was sweet of you to move me to the couch, but next time you’ll need to wake me up instead!

You (6:45pm): Did you see Bakugo go anywhere after class?

Surprisingly, you don’t have to wait at all for his reply.

Shouta (6:45pm): You looked like you needed it.

Shouta (6:46pm): He didn't go to his dorm, but he stayed on campus. Why?

Hmm. You wiggle on your bed, plugging your phone out of its charger so you can relax in a comfortable position as your fingers tap on the screen.

You (6:47pm): I guess if anyone’s a good judge of someone’s need for sleep, it’s Mr.Baggy Eyes, huh? Go figure

You (6:47pm): also, that’s confidential. But I think he deserves a lollipop at this point. Bakugo cares a lot more than he likes to show, but the fact he’s actually thinking about our session and considering some new methods says a lot about his character. Thanks for telling me.

Shouta doesn’t say anything after that, at least not right away, so you move on and look at your other messages. Yamada’s are a bunch of absurd internet pictures, so nothing too important, and your other client who texted you is asking for a reschedule.

It takes a bit of back and forth with your client until you eventually decide on a new date where both of you have time- thankfully, it didn’t require you taking time out of your weekend more than you already have. By the time you’re done, you have one new message from Shouta.

Shouta (6:56pm): You’re right about that. Bakugo is difficult, but with some help, he’ll be able to do a lot for society. Hopefully you’ll be around enough to see him change. His trust doesn’t come easy.

The words make a heavy feeling in your stomach drop. Without meaning to, Shouta has stabbed you in the gut with guilt, and you’re feeling even more about your decision to leave U.A.

How could you leave, really? The students need you- but so do your clients.

Stress builds up in your shoulders again, and staring down at Shouta’s message, your head swarms with bad thoughts.

Anxiety and discomfort rolls over you in waves.

And you don’t really have anyone to confide in. Part of you feels like talking to Shouta- but you’re not really that close to each other yet. You doubt he wants to hear your complaints about work.

Shouldn’t you be grateful for your opportunity?

You blink as you barely make a reply, and then you toss your phone to the side once you turn it off. Your eyes look at the ceiling of your room, and despite the exhaustion deep in your bones, you’re suddenly wide awake.

You feel like you won’t be going to sleep tonight, as much as you would like to.

You (7:08pm): You’re right. I’ll try my best.

——

Coming into work the next morning is dreadful. The only thing keeping you awake and mildly aware of your surroundings is the caffeine that’s running through you- you’ve drank so much coffee and energy drinks that you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a part of your bloodstream at this point. You look like a mess, but there’s work to be done.

It’s Friday, which is usually nice, because Saturday is your only day off. But you sacrificed your Saturday for a session tomorrow, so there’s no promise of a break for you for at least another week.

Overnight, due to your lack of sleep, you thought of three other ideas for after-school activities the students might like, and you sent all of them over to Nezu once the sun began to rise and you decided it was an appropriate hour to message him. He hasn’t gotten back to you yet, but that’s unsurprising.

With nothing else to do, you got on the train early enough that it's not even that crowded. You still can’t find a seat, but that’s fine. You’re afraid if you sit down and relax for more than a moment, you might fall apart.

Hence why you’re heading to work several hours early. Hopefully you’ll be able to pull yourself together before work starts.

You stumble a bit each time the cart shakes when it comes to a stop, but eventually you get off and walk to U.A. It’s practically empty, which is also unsurprising, but the doors are open for you, so that’s good. You were a bit worried it might all be locked down.

As you head to your office, it’s eerily quiet in the building. Beside the sound of your shoes tapping on the floor, there’s nothing. It’s a bit unsettling.

Maybe that’s just because you haven’t slept at all recently and your anxiety is through the roof at the moment. Who knows? Regardless, you make it to your office with no issues. But when you open the- unlocked- door, you jump.

And then you slam the door shut with a surprised scream.

“Oh my god!” You yell at the door, and you can hear the people scrambling from inside your office. “What’re you doing?! On my couch?!”

Kayama speaks up, her voice just a lilt higher than it usually is. “Would you believe me if I said it was nothing??”

“No! No I wouldn’t!” You yell back, and you rub your eyes with the heel of your palms. “I will never be able to wash my eyes from what I just saw, Jesus-“

“We’re sorry!! You’re really early!”

“Do you always do this shit on my couch?! I have students sit on that thing- oh my GOD, I was laying on it yesterday!”

“No- we swear-“

And then suddenly, as if from nowhere, Shouta is coming from around the corner with his face twisted up in confusion. “What’s going on?” He asks as he walks up to you, and you gesture angrily toward your closed door.

“Yamada and Kayama were fucking on my couch!”

“No we weren’t!!” Yamada’s screechy, way too loud voice denies.

“Yeah, tell me that again as if you’re not scrambling to put clothes on right now.” You huff, and Shouta’s eyebrows have successfully disappeared beyond his hairline. “Did you have any idea about this?” You look toward him, a hateful look in your eye- but he quickly shakes his head.

“I just got here. I was actually- well.” He looks toward your office. “I was going to nap.”

“ Lord - does everyone use my office as they so please? Do the keys I own mean nothing?”

Yamada wails, “we’re sorry- “

“Shut! Shut it!” You snap.

This is the worst. You have had no sleep, no food. You’re overworked and stressed enough as is- this was just the last straw.

“Clean up my office. Get rid of all your ridiculous germs- the door, my desk, the couch- anywhere the two of you touched needs to be squeaky clean or else.”

You’ve never been the type to really get mad, especially at your friends. Especially at friends who you haven’t even been friends with for less than a year. You try to keep your cool. This was just… bad timing.

“Yes, right. We promise,” Kayama says from beyond the door.

“And you-“ you point at Shouta, who is more than a bit surprised at your tone, and his face shows it. “You haven’t had sex in my office, have you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” You let out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re invited to get breakfast with me so I can cool down while those two put themselves together.”

He doesn’t really need much more convincing. He’s already walking by your side as you turn around, walking much faster than you normally do as you head for the front doors.

Shouta walks a bit faster and opens the door for you, too, which you barely mumble a thanks for.

It’s quiet as you walk down the sidewalk in the early morning, but eventually Shouta speaks up, keeping up with your pace easily. “Do you know where you’re going?”

You stop in your tracks.

“No.” You bite your lip as you frown, and you truthfully can’t even look at him. Instead, you keep your eyes on the ground, at the pebbles on the ground. “Do you know anywhere to go?”

“...Yeah. Follow me,” his voice is surprisingly soft as he reaches forward and nudges your arm his direction, and you both turn around as he takes the lead. You don’t walk for long, crossing a few streets and making a few turns, until you’re at the same place that Shouta brought you to last time.

The familiarity as you enter the restaurant makes you relax just a little bit.

“So,” Shouta starts once the two of you sit at a booth. A waiter handed you both a menu, but you haven’t opened it yet. “You’re not usually so tense.”

Shouta doesn’t make meaningless observations, you know that much about him. He’s inviting you to talk about why you’re acting strangely, and you’re tired enough that you take the bait.

You vent. You vent and vent and vent about everything you’ve been feeling lately- stressed from two jobs, guilty for having to leave, not wanting to leave, tired, upset you have to give up your free time, upset you can’t talk to anybody about your feelings, anxious that you’re not good enough- all of it.

You’re a therapist, so you know how important it is to communicate your feelings, but you haven’t been doing it for yourself. You should know better, but it’s hard. You tell all of that to him too, even though he didn’t ask for any of it.

He gave you an opportunity to speak, so you did. All of it.

And by the time you’re done, your food (which you don’t even remember ordering, so Shouta must have done it when you were busy ranting) is sitting hot in front of you and ready to be eaten. You feel like a hot pile of blubber by the time you’re done, releasing a big sigh full of all the ghosts that have haunted you the past few days. And then you stab your fork into your food, and it feels oddly gratifying.

“...Sorry.”

Shouta just barely moves his head as he closes his eyes- a fairly weak version of shaking his head as a way to deny your apology. “I’d be on my last wire if I saw Nemuri and Hizashi fucking, too.”

Despite yourself, you snort.

“I know you haven’t worked at U.A for long, but if you wanted to ask for a day off, I think Nezu would be willing.” You barely open your mouth before he’s already shutting down your argument, “you want to help the students, and I understand that. But how much are you going to help them in this state? You can’t do anything if you’re doubting yourself and you’re sleep deprived on top of it all.”

Brutally honest, but they’re words you needed to hear. You sink into your seat and nibble on your food instead of arguing with him, which Shouta snorts amusedly at as he eats his food too.

Once again, he pays for the meal, but you don’t really try to argue about that, either. You appreciate how considerate he’s being right now.

“You’re right, and you know it too, so I don’t really have to say it. But you’re right.” Shouta smiles as you play with your fork, food now finished. “I haven’t had a day off in so long, I guess I forgot they existed. I don’t even know what I’d do, besides sleeping a lot.”

“Sleeping is always nice,” He comments and you roll your eyes, because of course he’d say that.

“What do you do on your days off?” Shouta gives you a look and you click your tongue. “Right.” Sleeping.

“Could always go out of town. Have a day trip.”

“I suppose, but I’m not really sure where I’d go,” you hum thoughtfully. “I’m not really sure what I even like to do… I know I like spending time with you. But I guess you have even less time than I do to really go anywhere, huh?”

You’re too out of it to really think about what you just admitted, and you’re looking out the window so you don’t see how Shouta’s face shifts at your little confession. “If you’re fine with me being on patrol, we could go somewhere. That’s probably the best I can do.”

And you’re also not aware of how foreign it feels for him to offer his time up like that for another person. You really have no idea- you just smile at him and light up. “Yeah, that’d be fine! Just having a day out, walking around and all that sounds nice. Aw man, it’s kind of exciting now,” you laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as your nose scrunches up.

Shouta discreetly looks away.

“I’m not very exciting, but whatever you say.”

“Well, that’s true,” ow, “you’re relaxing. And I think I need to relax more than I need excitement, really.” Oh.

He just hums in response.

“Well, anyway. Thanks a lot for letting me say all that. It was really nice of you,” you move the subject along, rummaging through your things until you find your phone and click it on. “It’s still awhile until class starts, but we should head back and check on the two love birds.”

“Hopefully they’re decent by now.” Shouta rolls his eyes, scooting out of the booth with you, and with the food already paid for, you both walk out of the diner together.

“I really can’t believe those two to begin with. Did you have any idea they were together?” You look up at him as you walk.

“Honestly? No. And that’s on purpose. I don’t want to know.”

You laugh. “That’s fair.”

Shouta hums again in response, and the two of you chat some more as you head back to U.A together. It’s nice that you can feel a bit lighter than before, now.

But it’s not fair. It’s not fair that now you’re feeling better, a bit more energized than before, you completely miss the way that Shouta looks at you. The way he’s been looking at you ever since you were exploding with anger at his two best friends.

A look that’s a bit too akin to attraction.

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hale-13 · 3 years ago

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Euarthropoda

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 9 - Bugs

Peter enjoys visiting Tony out at the lake house - even though his mentor insists on going hiking.

Words: 1924, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Light Discussion of Mental Health

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“A hike?” Peter asked, his voice dubious and still heavy with sleep. Tony had dragged him out of bed at an ungodly hour to shove a homemade breakfast with all the fixings down his throat before their supposed foray into the ‘great outdoors’.

“A hike,” his mentor confirmed, putting an ungodly amount of ketchup and sriracha on his omelet, making Peter crinkle his nose in disgust. “Eat up! We want to get out there early so we aren’t out in the hottest part of the day.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed,” Peter pointed out, talking around a mouthful of hash browns with grilled onions – it still blew him away that the Tony Stark he remembered severely burnt or set everything on fire before the Snap but now was perfectly capable of cooking a delicious meal. Wild. “But neither of us is what one might call ‘outdoorsy’,” Peter pointed out, air quotes included, adding another mound of bacon and sausage to his plate when Tony nudged the platter closer.

“Sure we are!” Tony protested. “You spend most of your day outside and I live at a lake house.”

“First of all,” Peter said imperiously, using his fork to point at this mentor and speaking with his mouth full. “Living at a lake house doesn’t mean that you’re suddenly a skilled outdoorsman. It just means that you have money. And second,” Peter continued, speaking louder over Tony’s spluttering, “I spend no time outside at all whatsoever.”

“Lies and slander,” Tony argued. “I’ve seen the logs for your suit so I know just how much you aren’t in your apartment no matter what you tell May.”

Peter threw his arms up in indignation. “Time in the suit does not equate to time spent in the wilderness! It’s climate controlled for fuck’s sake.”

“Language,” Tony admonished with a glance toward the stairs. Morgan had a penchant for creeping around to eavesdrop and had picked up lots of new… vocabulary… that she was all too pleased to teach her multitude of friends at school much to her teacher’s anger, Pepper’s embarrassed rage and Tony’s chagrin. Peter just rolled his eyes – he had super hearing, he would know if Morgan was creeping up on them. “Finish your breakfast.”

“Ugh,” Peter groaned but gave in. He knew a losing battle when he saw one – he was pretty stubborn but, if anyone could beat him out, it was Tony Stark. “Where are we even going?”

“Just around the lake,” Tony answered, spreading Nutella liberally on his toast. “It’s a few miles and I realized I hadn’t shown you the trails yet.”

Peter hummed and looked out the window where the watery light from the early morning sun was cascading over the kitchen and leaving long shadows. It was so much quieter here than the city, the only noise coming from the birds and the gentle lapping of the water from the lake onto the shore. It really was a beautiful place and, despite his verbal protests, Peter actually wasn’t that upset about spending a quiet morning walking around the shore of the lake and relaxing – it had been a rough week of Spider-Manning and he was ready for a break.

“Pete?” Tony asked, pulling him from his musings. “We don’t actually have to go if you really don’t want to. You know that right?”

“I know,” Peter reassured him. “I think I do want to.” Tony gave him a bright smile before grabbing his empty plate to put in the dishwasher.

“Go get changed,” the man said. “I’ll meet you by the dock in a few minutes once I get this put away,” he gestured to the few dirty dishes left on the table, completely empty due to Peter’s voracious metabolism.

“Sure,” Peter agreed. “I’ll do my best not to wake up Mo.”

“Oh God,” Tony groaned. “Please do. We’ll never get out of here if she wakes up.”

Peter laughed, leaving the kitchen to climb up the stairs and enter his room. It was supposed to be a warm day so he pulled on a pair of shorts and a worn out tank top along with a pair of beat up sneakers. Tony was already down by the dock when Peter made his way outside, stretching out his calves, two HydroFlasks sitting in the dirt next to him.

“Ready?” Tony asked, tossing him a bottle which Peter caught easily.

“Yep,” he agreed, stretching his own arms over his head to pop his back and release the tension in his shoulders that was a constant from all of his web-slinging. Tony set an easy pace, following the dirt trail around the lake and Peter fell into step next to him, their conversation light and lulling into comfortable silence in some places as they hiked, just taking in the scenery.

The area truly was stunning; an uncovered gem that Tony had been lucky to find. Land like this didn’t sit around unoccupied for long in the upstate area and Peter could see himself – one da, hopefully – retiring somewhere similar. Maybe Tony would let him build a house out here someday, he was certainly developing a taste for peace and quiet.

“May said you’d had a tough week,” Tony finally brought up lightly, confirming Peter’s suspicions for the alone time away from curious and meddling ears. The two were the absolute worst gossips at their bi-weekly co-parenting lunches – Peter was just lucky Happy hadn’t started joining them since he and May had started dating. Peter wouldn’t get away with anything if all three of them were involved.

Peter mulled the question over for a few minutes before shrugging, deciding to try for nonchalant. “It wasn’t great but I’m okay,” he finally conceded, voice carefully light.

“You can talk to me Webs,” Tony said carefully, his tone neutral. “If anyone knows what this business is like its me.”

They continued in silence for a minute more before Peter stopped in the path and leaned against one of the trees overlooking the lake, watching a Great Blue Heron wade in the shallows a few hundred feet from them pursuing its next meal. “I lost somebody,” he ground out. “I was right there and I’d already webbed up the bad guy but I guess one of his arms was free enough to still aim and fire his gun and…” Peter sniffed, eyes dry but stinging.

Tony sighed but didn’t offer any platitudes. “It sucks and it’s not fair,” he agreed, reaching out a hand to squeeze Peter’s shoulder quickly in solidarity. “And its going to happen again; all that matters is how you handle it. How are you handling it?”

“Mostly by punching a brick wall until I break my knuckles,” Peter admitted, carefully not looking at his mentor’s facial expression which he knew would be disapproving – Tony wasn’t really a fan of Peter’s penchant for using pain and violence to work through his emotions. He held up his right hand though, allowing the man to inspect the unmarred skin and healed bones without protest knowing he would be fighting a losing battle.

“I think we should talk about healthy coping mechanisms again,” Tony joked without humor. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I know,” Peter admitted.

“You give any more thought to my offer?” And Peter had. After the ‘Blip’ both Tony and May had tried to talk Peter into seeing one of the therapists the Avengers had on retainer. His identity would remain secure and he could vent and develop healthy coping mechanisms. Work through some of the issues he knew that he was repressing. Figure out how to deal with the PTSD WebMD told him he had. He had refused them a couple times over the months he had been back but now…

“I‘ve thought about it,” he admitted.

“And?” Tony asked, voice patient but with a hopeful undercurrent he couldn’t quite hide.

“I’ll try it,” Peter agreed, grunting in surprise when Tony pulled him into a firm hug that Peter leaned into, returning it with equal force and closing his eyes to rest his forehead on Tony’s flesh shoulder, tension he didn’t know he was carrying releasing from his muscles.

“I’m so proud of you kiddo,” the man whispered into his ear and Peter felt a watery smile pull up his cheekbones.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled back to meet Tony’s eyes only for his mentor to be looking at Peter’s shoulder instead of his face. Peter knit his brows in confusion. “Tony?”

“Hold still Pete,” he said, gesturing to Peter’s shoulder. “Got a little wolf spider on you. I’ll get it.”

“A WHAT!” Peter screeched, jumping backwards and yanking his tank top off, ripping it to shreds and tossing it before running his hands over his arms, hair standing on end and skin crawling like he was covered in bugs.

“Uh,” Tony said, looking caught between laughter and confusion. “You okay bud?”

“I HATE spiders,” Peter said, shuddering and climbing halfway up the tree behind him to get away from his shirt on the ground and the arachnid that may still be in it. He was taking no chances. “Aren’t you going to kill it?”

“Kill it?” Tony asked faintly before letting out a snort. “Hate to break it to you Pete, but we’re in his territory not the other way around.”

“He lost the chance to live when he climbed on me,” Peter spat out venomously, eyes still locked on the shirt. He wasn’t letting the little bastard escape. “Can you please just kill it?”

“Pretty sure you flung him halfway to the city already,” Tony choked out around his laughter, picking up Peter’s discarded shirt and shaking it out to check it. “Think your shirt is toast.”

“You’re sure its gone?” Peter asked suspiciously, still perched on the trunk of the tree and feeling over his arms to make sure it wasn’t still on him.

“Yes Peter, Christ. Can you get down from there?” Peter narrowed his eyes but dropped back to the ground, scanning the area nervously. His Spidey sense was tingling uncomfortably from the adrenaline that was working its way through his system. Tony looked him over for a second to make sure he was okay before letting out a snort and then bursting into laughter. “Spider-Man afraid of spiders. Oh this is good!”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter grumbled, crossing his arms over his bare chest and feeling his cheeks heat up. “Laugh it up.”

“Aw its okay buddy!” Tony said, draping his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him back down the path toward the cabin. “We all have at least one irrational fear. Say,” he said, voice teasing, “does May kill them all for you at home?”

“Hell no!” Peter said, shaking his head. “She’s worse than me – Ben always had to handle the various vermin that would come in the apartment uninvited.”

“So what do you two do? Go ask a neighbor?” Tony teased, lightly elbowing Peter in the ribs and causing him to scowl. “Scream until someone comes running? Call Happy?”

“We just… leave. You know, let it do it’s thing. Then we come home and are just really uncomfortable for a few days,” he said squirming a little in discomfort at the thought.

Tony let out a bark of bright laughter, pulling Peter into a side hug. “We can work on something to help you with that later in the lab I think.”

“Please,” Peter agreed in pure relief, following along back towards the house and keeping a weary eye on his surroundings… just in case.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump9 #Prompt: Bugs #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

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Working for Love: A Terrormoo Story, 1/17

Okay, soooo...surprise? For some reason, the first week of November I wrote this entire story. It’ll be broken down into 17 parts, about 4-5 pages each.

Yes, this means I wrote over 26k words in one week. I don’t know either.

This is a story that I’m dedicating to @personfullofplotholes because of all the work she’s helped me with for my BBS, MCU, and personal writing. Without her, Libahunt wouldn’t be a thing, and I’d probably be out of the fandom completely.

So this story will be posted every Saturday! I hope that you enjoy! ^.^

Main pairing: Terrormoo There will be other pairings mentioned through it, though not in detail and no real moments or focus. But they’ll be dabbled in there, so fair warning.

Drabble One

Brock was not lazy.

Really, he wasn’t. Sure, he lacked the active schedule he’d had when he was in high school. College had been a hard transition, and though he managed to get through it with a 4.0 GPA, his health took a hit. Making ramen noodles at three in the morning was simply easier than trying to prepare a balanced meal and study for his economics final. His friends hadn’t mentioned any changes in his waistline or that his cheeks had plumped up through the college exams and parties. The pants he’d shimmied into after high school were stuffed in the deepest corner of his closet by the last year of college, but he was genuinely happy with his life. He had a positive group of friends and a financially stable job as a teacher. Brock even got an apartment that had come with a gym membership to ‘Wildcat Athletics’ (the landlord, Nogla, said that he was ‘best buddies’ with the owner of the gym, and worked there on weekends) for as long as he was a tenant and paid his bills on time.

The only thing that even reminded him about his weight hangups, if he was being honest, was his boyfriend. Or, well, his ex-boyfriend. That factor was the exact reason that Brock stood outside of the aforementioned gym, lower lip dragged between his teeth on the chilly Monday night. Valentine’s day had been over a month ago, but still held more heartbreak than love for Brock. He’d been left stunned and insecure by the cruel words his lover had used to end their relationship.

“I can’t be with a guy who doesn’t want to fix what’s wrong with his body. You’re just too heavy for me to keep pretending to be attracted to.”

Two years spent fostering a welcoming and loving relationship had meant nothing because Brock now had love handles? His ex was in better shape than Brock from day one, but he’d assumed their relationship was built on more than looks. Brock had always been a little heavier, yet he balanced the slight physical shortcomings with his endearing personality. Never once had his ex complained about his body when Brock let him borrow his car or covered some of his bills during his ‘career transition’ between jobs. When Brock’s raise meant a vacation to Iceland, there were no complaints of thicker thighs and missing abs in the natural hot springs. He’d never made comments about the weight gain when the two were between the sheets, though recalling their love life over the past six months, Brock could remember several times his shirt remained untouched through their sex. The touches lacked the romantic charge they’d held at the start of their relationship, when Brock’s hips fit better under his hands and his shoulders weren’t rounded by stress and long study sessions.

But now all of these ‘burdens’ were too much for his ex to handle, and after his scathing comments, the man left Brock broken and crying in his apartment without a second glance.

“You’re not doing this for him,” Brock reminded himself, hand gripped tightly onto his phone to keep from turning around and heading back to his car. He’d already visited the gym a couple times over the past week, but always felt the impulsive desire to leave as soon as he stepped out of his car. His shirt was the baggiest he could find in his collection, hoping that it’d cover the lacking muscles and stretch marks he’d been staring at for weeks.

His break-up had been the catalyst for coming to the gym, but it wasn’t the only reason. Brock had several other contributing factors. Nogla’s face looked so hopeful when Brock mentioned he’d checked out the gym, and exercising gave him something to do to get him out of the house. He did get a small burst of pride each time he finished his walk on the treadmill, though he hadn’t been able to use it to take on the weights. For the most part, the gym wasn’t saturated with muscle-heads or judgemental members, and people who were in the same shape as him looked content going there. He’d only met the owner, Tyler, once, but he didn’t give a judgemental stare or rude comment when Brock mentioned Nogla’s offer. He did look grumpy while having Brock fill out paperwork and take his photo, but Nogla reassured him that it was just ‘his normal mood’.

Night workouts were always met with less clutter, as most didn’t want to work out after a 9-5 job. Brock’s guilty pleasure of sleeping through three alarms kept him from being a morning warrior, and he enjoyed the quieter time.

“Hey, welcome back.” He gave a small smile to the man who greeted him at the front counter before showing him his scan card.

“Hello.” He didn’t muster up the courage to exchange any more words than the polite greeting. ‘Evan’ (as the nametag offered) was handsome and kind, his smile disarming and real each time Brock came in. But his ex’s grin had been charming, too, and Brock wasn’t good enough for him. Brock was reminded of how the frumpy college t-shirt had a hole in the right shoulder and a stain under the logo that would be impossible to find attractive. Plus, Evan was far too attractive to be single like him. He tried to make his own smile hide his negative thoughts when he dropped his gaze and took the card back, scampering to the safety of the treadmills.

There were only a few people in the gym, and the station he liked to use was free. The tv in front of it played Animal Planet, which helped him through the harder parts of his routine. Plus, it was furthest in the corner of the gym, meaning that most members didn’t see him. The less people that caught sight of his flushed face, sweat stains and pathetic gasps, the better. His water and keys were tossed into the holders before he fumbled through the buttons of the machine, feeling confident enough to push his level to ‘4’ instead of the 3 he’d been hovering over for the past week. In seconds the belt was moving under his feet, and with Maroon 5’s ‘Give a little more’ playing in his headphones, Brock threw himself into his workout.

It wasn’t long until the higher leveled routine took its effect; Brock’s legs tingled with protest at the higher incline as each minute passed, but he tried to keep his mind focused on the music pounding in his ears. His chest expanded with greater desperation after minute seven, and Brock had to close his eyes after the ten minute mark to keep himself from shutting down the machine. The pads of his fingers were clammy, making it hard to change the song on his phone to something with a heavier beat. Another change in the treadmill’s incline had brown eyes looking to the TV, though dismay flooded him at the breaking news that was interrupting normal programming. The boring story didn’t have subtitles big enough for Brock to read, meaning looking at the screen was pointless. His eyes pulled away from the speech to find something else to distract him. It only took a few seconds to find the stairmaster, though the intimidating machine was not what caught his interest.

There, practically jogging from the speed he was using, was a man that rivalled the treadmill’s ability to leave Brock breathless. The sweat that made Brock’s skin fluster and smell looked much different on the other member. The muscle tank top was cut open wide under the armpits, leaving an easy window to peek at the fit torso and stomach hidden under the cloth. If the thirteen minutes of torture hadn’t already turned him into a persperating tomato, Brock was sure he’d be blushing. He winced at the realization he’d been staring before he forced his eyes back down to his hands, watching chubby fingers clutch the pulse monitors like a lifeline.

“Don’t stare, that’s creepy,” he huffed to himself. If he didn’t need his hands stable to keep from falling off the machine, he would have smacked himself. People were not at the gym to be objectified. Even if the man was beautiful, he had the same rights to a peaceful work-out. It didn’t matter how clear his skin looked, the cute way the front of his hair curled over his forehead from his work-out, or how bright his eyes were in the fluorescent light of the-Brock visibly jerked at the realization that his eyes had betrayed him, looking at the gym member again.

It’s not your fault, his conscience (in Mini’s voice, which made it so much worse) tossed out, Brock already rejecting the excuse as it formulated. He has really nice legs, and those pants are definitely spandex from how tight they are painted onto his ass-

The fact that his unconscious had picked up on something he didn’t even know he’d evaluated had him pulling away from the thought. Again, his eyes were following the sleek movements of the man, and he wanted to cry when he realized they were settled on the spandex-covered posterior. Embarrassment rearing up, a weird noise of protest bubbled out of Brock’s mouth. His feet stumbled for a moment, and he was sure that his sneakers made an unpleasant noise against the treadmill’s belt that echoed from how empty the gym was.

Horror rushed through his bloodstream as the blue eyes from before glanced his way, Brock ducking his head as low as he could during the worst part of his workout. He could barely keep himself walking up the high incline, but the lowered head made it so much harder. The sticky feeling of sweat clung to the collar of his t-shirt and the fabric against his back. He must have looked like a disaster, and the hottest guy he’d ever seen in the gym was looking at him. For a moment, he wished he could melt into the floor. Two grueling minutes went by before Brock finally raised his head again, breath shaky from both the work-out and his embarrassment. The blue gaze was still focused on him, and then a wave was paired with a beaming smile. He didn’t need to look to know his face was the reddest it’d ever been.

Thankfully for Brock, the timer on his treadmill hit twenty, and the belt slowed to a stop. He didn’t hesitate to jump off the treadmill, eyes dropped to the floor when scampering from the embarrassing situation. He barely remembered to wave goodbye to Evan, escaping into the cold of the night. The gasp of breath was chilling through his lungs, but with how hot his face was, Brock wished he could dunk his head into a bucket of ice. Why had that guy waved at him? Was he trying to show that he knew Brock was staring? What if he was just being passive aggressive? The entire ordeal was mortifying, and Brock could already hear how loud Mini’s laugh would be when retelling the terrible experience.

One thing was for sure; Brock was never coming back on a Monday night again.

And there’s part one. This is a very silly and fun story, and it will jump between Brock and Brian’s POV. So if you wanna know what Brian’s thinking, you’ll have to wait until next week and see! So, what did you think? Likes and reblogs will always be a good way to show me some love. Until next Saturday!

#Terrormoo #Soft boys #Terroriser #Moo Snuckle #<3 #Crimson drabblez #Gym AU

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blackdreamsoffashion · 4 years ago

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It’s August 7th and unfortunately, things have gotten exponentially worse…. in the U.S. because the rest of the world has generally gotten their shit together.

As things continue to worsen and we wait for the ticking time bomb that is K-12 schools and universities opening for F2F instruction… prior to having a vaccine, there honestly doesn’t seem to be a real end in sight (unless I move to Canada, and I may or may not have been researching how to become a Canadian citizen).

Most of the time, I’m ok with this. I’m a big girl, I understand that life is hard, things happen, “it is what it is” (barf), but there are some days where the realization that I’ll be living through these Covid times indefinitely, truly knocks the wind out of me.

While I’m generally a home body, I do like the option of being able to leave my house. I miss being able to visit family and friends without worrying about infecting each other. I miss the gym, and coffee shops, and Marshall’s, and thrift stores. I could go on and on about what I miss, but I’ll spare you since I’m sure everyone has things they’re missing right now.

On these hard days, and throughout the pandemic in general, I’ve tried to find ways to feel somewhat “normal”, and luckily with the help of my therapist and suggestions from friends, I’ve felt ok most days and I don’t curl up and cry on the floor for hours on the hard days either (even though a good cry is always good for the soul).

So, I thought I’d share my tips.

Being a teacher and all, it’s in my nature.

1. Tip 1: Keep a loose schedule

In the beginning of the pandemic, I found that I was trying to just go with the flow. I didn’t have any sort of schedule and I quickly learning that everything just started to blend together, in a negative way. When you come from a structured life style, i.e. teaching classes, waking up, eating , working out, dissertating, etc. all at a set time, having no structure feels hard after a while! So, I created a very loose, very flexible schedule, as I found it gave me something to look forward to, while helping my life to feel more normal. For example, my days are generally: wake up around 7:30/8, listen to a podcast or two while eating, from 9 until 12 it’s open to what I want (maybe running, going for a walk, reading, cleaning, etc.). 12:30 is lunch followed by coffee and a dessert. 1-5 I try to complete some school/work related tasks. 5:30-6:30 I cook and have dinner. After dinner, we might go for another walk… or another dessert. I might dance to ratchet music for 20-30 minutes (also good for the soul, trust me), or I might do some things around the house. 9:30-11:30 I watch Netflix. So as you can see, it’s super loose, and the only things that are truly set are my meal times… otherwise I’d be eating constantly all day. The first month of covid, we spent about $600 on food….for two people…. and our budget is 250-300 a month #yikes. By having some things to look forward to though, it helps my days to run a bit smoother. But let’s be honest, we all know it’s the dessert after lunch that keeps me going LOL.

2. Tip 2: Find you hobby

Considering the way American culture and society is set up (insert side-eye here), our lives are often centered around work/school and other obligations, and we rarely have time to pursue other things. Therefore, I’ve tried to really take advantage of having to be home by incorporating some old hobbies back into my life, and even trying new ones. I’ve been flying through angsty Mangas and Animes and repurposing/revamping thrifted furniture/ people trash.

I even made a children’s book for my nephew centered around him and my sister!

I’m also trying to expand the inventories of bread I can make. I’m happily at a solid 1.5 different loaves. I say 1.5 because the second type only comes out well 50% of the time LOL.

There are so many things you can do such as an online cooking class, a Zoom paint-with-a twist, drawing, photography, running, gardening, learning a new language or skill, becoming an indoor plant mom, etc.

I am especially biased towards activities that involve moving the body. NUMEROUS studies (no I’m not looking them up/linking them b/c I do enough of that as an academic, so you can look up studies yourself!) have found that exercise helps with anxiety and depression (I can attest to this), with mental clarity and focus (I can also attest to this), it helps you sleep better, and it also helps with your immune system, blood pressure, and hormone regulation. My moods are always consistently better when I exercise vs. when I don’t. When I don’t I can become a crazy bish….

3. Tip 3: Take social media breaks

I do this and I have several friends who do this as well. Yes it is important to be connected and social media can facilitate that. However, it is extremely important to monitor/control what we consume. The world, especially the U.S. is NOT a pretty place right now. Our feeds are filled with Black men and women losing their lives to police, families being ripped apart due to Covid-related deaths, thousands of deaths in Lebanon, a humanitarian crisis in Yemen, and the list goes on and on. Taking breaks from constant exposure to that is crucial to maintaining our mental health. I know it’s easier said than done, and studies have shown that social media is a literal addition, but I find that it helps to set small goals, which can be done easily with i-phones. Simply set a limit to the amount of time you’re able to use social media apps (through the i-phone settings), and it will lock you out of the app once you reach that time limit.

4. Tip 4: The Calm app

I cannot express how in love I am with the Calm app. I believe it’s $70 a year but given that I use it everyday, that’s essentially .20 cents a day. Trust me, it’s wellll worth it. The app includes things like guided meditations, bedtime stories, daily mood check-ins, sound scapes, 7-days of gratitude, and help for anxiety, confidence, relationships, stress, emotions, etc. etc. TBH, you should have bought it when I said .20 cents a day! This app helped me through graduate school as I struggled with stress, anxiety, and sleep deprivation, and it continues to help me with those same things as I transition into a new work environment and of course, Covid.

Lastly, I’m not sure whether this is a tip or not due to its broadness but, if I’ve learned anything from all of this craziness, it’s to do things meaningfully and with intention. It’s soooo easy to agree to 1000 Zoom get-togethers when you’re not interacting with other humans, but it gets to a point where we’re just doing things to do them. Like social media. We scroll just because. We binge shop online (maybe just me…), we watch a million shows on Netflix, we eat ALL the cookies/make constant trips just because. Although it’s not easy, I try to be in tune with myself and my needs by being present, and asking myself WHY. Why are you going in the fridge again, Sherez? Are you hungry, or eating to eat? Why did you say yes to that Zoom hang out when you just spoke with that person two days ago (what could have possibly happened in two days during Covid LOL).

I do slip up, often, but I try my damn best. Trying helps me to make it through the hard days, and it makes the other days as close to normal as it’s gonna get, for now.

Any who, I hope this is able to help someone out there in the black void that is the internet.

Goodluck my friends! Sending back the love + light that I’ve received from so many of you. We’ll get through this, poco a poco, and we are in this together…… despite American society’s push for individualism (*cough, cough*).

Until the next one!

S.M.

Sharing is caring.

Surviving the pandemic hard days: Tips from me + the community It's August 7th and unfortunately, things have gotten exponentially worse.... in the U.S. because the rest of the world has generally gotten their shit together.

#community #Covid #health #society #tips

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ladyfogg · 5 years ago

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May I? - 4/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Faith had spent the last forty-eight hours in her quarters. Her conversation with Data had put her at ease and gave her the chance to actually get rest. She slept some, ate a little, and avoided Dr. Crusher. The doctor had reached out for a follow-up but Faith didn't respond. Her headache had subsided to a dull throb and no other symptoms emerged, so she wasn't too worried about it.

She had just laid down for another nap when her door buzzed. It took her a moment to process that someone was actually there to see her. Pushing her crazy hair into a bun, she sat up and tried to make herself look presentable.

"Come in."

The door opened and Counselor Troi cautiously stepped in. She looked around until she spotted Faith in the bedroom. "Hi, Faith. I'm sorry, did I wake you? Is now a good time?"

There was a small feeling of disappointment within, which surprised Faith. It was almost as if she had expected it to be someone else.

"Oh, no I was just resting." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, suddenly acutely aware of how grungy she felt and probably looked. "Is there something I can do for you, Counselor?"

"Dr. Crusher said you may want to talk," Deanna said. "You haven't answered her messages so she asked me to stop by."

Damn it, Dr. Crusher!

The woman was too kind and smart for her own good. Faith was more than a little annoyed. She had seen a counselor when she was a teenager and it had not gone well. But she had no quarrel with Deanna personally. In fact, she overheard nothing but good things about her. However, that did little to change her mind on the subject.

"Please, have a seat," Faith said, remembering her manners.

Deanna smiled and took a seat on the couch while Faith forced herself out of bed to join her. The Betazoid looked around and Faith knew she was taking note of the lack of personal belongings and decoration. Not to mention the clothes strewn across the floor and dishes left in various locations.

"I'm sorry about the mess. Had I known I was having company I would have tidied up a little."

Waving a dismissive hand, Deanna's smile remained. "No judgments from me. My own quarters have been in much worse shape on many occasions."

I seriously doubt that. She could not imagine the cheque and put-together counselor being messy in any capacity.

"I assume you know why I'm here," Deanna said.

"And I assume you know how I feel about it."

Deanna chuckled in amusement. "Yes, Dr. Crusher mentioned you may not be so happy about my appearance. So why don't we talk about it?"

Faith sighed heavily, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I can't believe Dr. Crusher sent you to check up on me," she mumbled, more to herself than Deanna.

"She's worried about you. I am too."

"Only because it's your job."

Deanna smiled kindly. "That is not the only reason. I do this job because I care. But I don't want you to feel pressured. If you'd rather not talk, we don't have to. But I hope you consider."

Faith took a deep breath. "I'm not good at it."

"Talking?"

"Talking about myself. There's really nothing very interesting about me."

"Now I find that very hard to believe."

"Everyone says that. They're always proven wrong."

"I see. How so?"

Deanna's eyes softened and the concern in them was enough to make Faith look away. She hated people being concerned about her. There were already so many things that made her anxious, the thought that she caused someone distress or concern for her health only made her feel worse.

"I told Dr. Crusher I didn't want to see you," she said, avoiding Troi's question.

"I know. It's why I'm here," Deanna said. "Sometimes when we don't want to talk about our feelings is when we need to the most."

Faith remained silent. Deanna waited patiently, but when she didn't say anything, the counselor continued. "Would it help if I told you a little bit about myself first?"

"You can if you like."

"Alright then," Deanna said. "Let's see. I'm half Betazoid, half-human. I've been doing this job for quite a while. And I love chocolate. Your turn."

Faith snorted. "I feel like I'm the new kid in class again and the teacher is making me introduce myself."

"Did you move around a lot when you were a child?"

"Nice try."

Deanna grinned. "I had to at least make an attempt."

Faith considered the situation and how she felt about Deanna's presence. There was something comforting about her, yet Faith was not remotely ready to start sharing her life story. "I appreciate the effort. But...I'm just not ready. Not now. I-I don't think I can share..."

"Then we don't have to," Deanna stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. "How about we get out of here and go for a walk instead? Get something to eat."

Faith looked down at her sweaty pajamas and back up at Deanna. "Er...I'm not exactly ready to be seen by human eyes." She paused. "Full-human eyes."

Deanna laughed. "Fine. You freshen up and we'll go to Ten Forward. Does that sound good?"

Faith hadn't been to Ten Forward yet. She knew it was where most people went to unwind and had avoided it due to her aversion to crowds. She also didn't like the thought of going by herself. The idea of her sitting alone at the bar was too sad, even for her. However, going with someone probably wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, I think I can do that," she said, placing her feet on the floor. "Excuse me for a moment."

Deanna motioned for Faith to go ahead. "I'll wait."

After a hot shower and changing into fresh clothes, Faith came back into the living room to find Deanna had gathered the dishes for her and put them back in the replicator to be disposed.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," Faith said, embarrassed. She removed her hair from the wet towel and began to hastily run a comb through it. Normally she didn't bother but she figured if she was going to be seen by people, she might as well make the effort.

"It was no trouble," Deanna insisted. "Every little bit helps. Speaking of…" She watched Faith wince as she caught a tangle. "Would you like some with your hair?"

"Oh. Um. Sure."

Faith sat while Deanna gently worked the knots out of her long brown hair. It was strange at first, yet oddly soothing.

"You have beautiful hair," Deanna commented. "The natural waves are lovely. Mine is so curly it drives me crazy at times."

"Thanks." Faith frowned. "You're not exactly what I expected."

"Oh really? How so?"

"Well, I doubt most counselors offer to take you to dinner, clean your dishes, then help you with your hair."

Deanna laughed. "Don't think of me as your counselor then. Think of me as your friend. After all, you haven't agreed to talk with me yet so technically you're not a client."

Faith chuckled herself. "Playing the long con, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Deanna said in a far too innocent tone and sweet smile.

After Deanna worked out the tangles and helped Faith braid her hair, the two women set off. Faith had kept the lights dim in her quarters so the brightness of the corridor actually blinded her for a moment.

When she winced, Deanna asked, "How's your head?"

"It's fine. I'm still a little sensitive to light but at least the headaches have subsided."

They began to walk and Faith realized that if she hadn't been injured she'd be in Engineering right at that moment. It suddenly felt almost like she was skipping school.

"It's strange not to be working," Faith said as they passed numerous people in their crisp Starfleet uniforms. She wore comfortable black pants and a thick sweater, which felt off compared to everyone else. "I feel like I should be doing something ."

"Resting is doing something," Deanna said, slipping her arm around Faith's shoulders. "Your body needs to recover and if you don't let it, you'll only hurt yourself more."

"Logically I know that. I can't help but feel useless though."

"I know. Just take it a day at a time. If today all you can do is take care of yourself, then it's a good day."

"Can you really sense what people are feeling?" Faith asked. "I know I joked about it before but I always wondered if it was true or just a rumor."

"Sometimes," Deanna answered. "It's not always clear, especially if the person doesn't know how they feel."

"That must be exhausting. Always feeling what other people do."

"Not really. I'm used to it, it's a part of me." She let go of Faith as they entered the lift. "Ten Forward, please." The lift began to move and the two women fell into silence.

Faith could feel Deanna studying her and she wondered what the Betazoid sensed. She almost asked but decided against it. Hearing her own emotions described verbally would make them all too real. At least keeping them locked up tight gave Faith some control. Or so she told herself.

When they reached Ten Forward, Faith was relieved to see it wasn't as busy as she thought it would be. Most people were separated into small groups, several even sat alone, reading from their PADDs or staring out at the vastness of space.

"Where would you like to sit?" Deanna asked.

Faith looked around and spotted a table tucked away in the corner and nodded toward it. "There is perfect."

They made their way over and Faith took the seat with her back to the wall, giving her a sense of security.

"It's nice in here," she admitted.

Deanna smiled as she looked around. "I think so too. It's a wonderful place to come and socialize. Maybe even make new friends."

"Subtle," Faith commented with a quirked eyebrow.

Deanna smirked back. "Sometimes subtly is overrated."

A dark-skinned woman in robes of deep purple with a large circular hat glided up to the table, a kind smile gracing her flawless features. "Well, hello there, I don't believe we've met."

"Guinan, this is Ensign Faith Diaz," Deanna said, introducing her companion. "Faith, this is Guinan. Ten Forward is her domain."

"It's pretty great," Faith said, extending her hand, which Guinan accepted. "Pleased to meet you."

"And you as well. Can I get either of you anything?" Guinan asked.

"Chocolate sundae," Deanna said immediately. "With chocolate ice cream—"

"Chocolate chips and hot fudge," Guinan finished, making Deanna smile. "And for you, Faith?"

"Oh, um...I'm not sure," Faith winced. "I need something substantial but not too filling."

Guiana gave her a knowing smile and raised her hand to cut her off. "Say no more, I have just the thing. Be right back."

Faith sat tense in her seat, eyes darting around the room. Without realizing it, her breathing began to grow shallow. Deanna noticed and reached out to place a comforting hand on her arm.

"Try taking deep breaths in and exhaling slowly," she suggested in a low, calm voice. "Try to block everything else out."

It took Faith a few tries before she could manage, taking too many sharp inhales before she got the hang of it. Deanna patiently led her through the exercise until Faith's shoulders relaxed.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"You're very welcome," Deanna said.

At that moment, the doors opened and Data entered Ten Forward. Remembering his kindness, Faith couldn't help but smile to herself. Deanna noticed and followed her gaze, surprised when she saw who Faith was staring at.

Data was greeted by several people who he responded to with a stiff wave. His golden eyes scanned the room and when they landed on Faith, he immediately headed towards her table.

"Counselor Troi, Faith," he said by way of greeting. "I hope I am not interrupting."

"Not at all," Deanna said smiling. "Would you care to join us?"

"Yes, please." Data took the chair across from Faith as Guinan arrived with food.

"Ice cream for the counselor," Guinan said, placing the dish in front of Deanna. "And, glazed salmon with greens and rice for the ensign."

The food looked amazing and smelled wonderful. Faith's stomach actually rumbled with interest and she picked up her fork.

"Thank you, Guinan."

"Think nothing of it. Hi, Data, can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Data answered.

She took her leave and when Faith looked back at Data, she was surprised to find him already staring at her.

"Are you feeling better from your injury?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Much better," Faith answered before taking a hesitant bite of her salmon. A slew of savory flavors met her taste buds and she was amazed a replicator could produce something so delicious.

"How is it?" Deanna asked, holding a large spoonful of ice cream.

"It's really good," Faith said, reaching for another bite. "Data, are you sure you don't want anything? I feel weird eating in front of you."

"I had my supplements already. I do not require much," he explained. "I actually came here to see you."

Faith almost choked on her food. "Me? Why me?" she asked, face growing hot. She was well aware of Troi's arched eyebrow and her look of amusement at Faith's reaction.

The truth was, no one ever asked for Faith or came looking for her outside of Engineering. With Data being a senior officer, she was worried she may be in some kind of trouble. Did he change his mind about telling Geordi? Did he have more questions? Did he find something she missed? Something big?

She tried to remind herself none of those scenarios were very likely. However, anxiety could not be reasoned with.

"Two days ago Geordi found another object physically out of place like the one you found," Data explained. "I wanted to ask you if you had noticed others."

Faith allowed herself to relax. Curiosity replaced anxiety. "Not really, but things are still a little fuzzy. I guess I hit my head pretty hard."

"It'll come back to you," Deanna promised. "Just give it some time."

Faith acknowledged her with a smile. "I hope so. I'll think about it some more and see if anything jumps to mind. I do remember being confused because it was so random."

"I see," Data said with a frown.

"Do you think it was deliberate?" Deanna asked.

"It had to have been. It is highly unlikely two stations in Engineering were accidentally moved, especially given the weight of them."

"They're pretty heavy," Faith agreed.

Just then Commander Riker walked in and caught Deanna's attention. Troi smiled at him before turning back to Faith and Data. "I'll leave you two to talk Engineering," she said, picking up her ice cream as she stood. "Faith, let me know if you want to talk some more."

Huh. Faith realized Troi had gotten her to talk some. That sneaky Betazoid. "I will," she said. She even meant it.

Deanna stepped away, leaving Faith and Data alone.

"Are you having sessions with Counselor Troi?" he asked.

"No!" Faith immediately denied. "Well, yes, sort of. I'm thinking about it."

"I have found her advice helpful myself if that sways your decision."

Faith smiled, intrigued. "You see Counselor Troi?"

"I see her weekly and have sought her counsel on many occasions. While I have been around humans for a long time, their behavior is still puzzling to me."

"Join the club," Faith muttered.

"There is a club? I was not aware of this. Do they accept new members?"

Faith chuckled. "It's a saying. It means that you're not the only one who is puzzled by us. Humans confuse me too."

"In what way?"

"Too many to list right now." Faith took another bite of her food.

"When you are feeling better would you like to list them? I am curious to see if we are confused by the same things."

"Sure. Why not?"

Data offered a smile, staring at Faith as she ate. She got the distinct impression that he was studying her but she wasn't sure why.

"Was there something else you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"May I ask a personal question?"

"You may but I might not answer it."

"Understood. I have not seen you in Ten Forward before. Do you wish to begin to socialize more?"

Faith considered his question as she gazed around the room. More people had wandered in since she arrived and the air buzzed with conversation.

"Maybe," she said after a moment. "I think today was Troi's successful attempt to get me out of my quarters for a little while. I might make it a habit."

"That would be a wise decision," Data said with a nod. "From what I understand, prolonged isolation does not help one's mental health."

"So it would seem," Faith sighed. "I have a hard time with crowds. However, I do have trouble sleeping. This may be a good place to go when I wake up in the middle of the night." She winced. "Although there probably won't be much socializing then either."

"I can accompany you if that would help."

Faith was surprised by his offer. "That's very kind of you, but you really don't have to."

"I enjoy speaking with you. It will be no trouble."

"I suppose without needing sleep you have a lot more time on your hands than we do."

"While it is true I do not require sleep, I often shut down for certain periods in the evening so that I may dream."

"You dream?" Faith asked, in awe.

Data nodded with a pleased smile. "It is a recent program that was activated quite by accident. It has been most intriguing."

"I bet. I haven't had a dream in months," she said. "If that's the case, I really don't want to impose on your dream time."

"As I said, it will be no trouble," Data assured her. "I can activate my dream program whenever I choose. Should you need an escort to Ten Forward in the evenings, I will gladly offer my services."

Faith allowed herself another smile. "As long as you don't mind, then I think I will take you up on your offer. Now, let's talk about the consoles in Engineering. What theories have you got so far?"

"There is insufficient evidence to make a clear hypothesis, however…"

Several tables away, Deanna watched the two with amusement. She could feel the shift in Faith's mood and see the life come back to her as she became engrossed in what Data was saying. Slowly she grew more at ease and seemed to have no trouble holding the conversation.

It was fascinating and incredibly sweet.

"What's going on over there?" Riker asked, following her line of sight as he stole a scoop of ice cream.

"I don't know," Deanna admitted. "But I'm curious to see where it leads."

#commander data #lt commander data #data tng #data soong #star trek next generation

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nocturnal-jeon · 6 years ago

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𝚋𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗➛ 𝚜/𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 (𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎)

damn, angst is my thing i guess lol

and i split this up cause i made these whole ass stories so

Kim Namjoon

It was comeback season (HAVE YALL LISTENED TO THE NEW ALBUM I-) and while he was always the best boyfriend at making sure he spent a good amount of time with you during the week, his main focus needed to be on work due to several deadlines and the lingering pressures in his mind to impress the fans.

It was also exam season for you, and typically, your studying habits wouldn’t ruin your time with Namjoon simply because he would help you study and give you kisses or food if you got an answer right on the little mini quizzes he would make. Namjoon would spend hours working and even sleep in the studio, leaving you in your shared bed at home by yourself surrounded by papers and packets.

Namjoon had staff that would force him to take care of himself. He also had six other members who were all in the same boat and knew the pressures of comeback season, so not only did they understand, but they were struggling with taking care of themselves, too. The staff would leave food in his studio and the members would force him to sleep for a few hours, but you didn’t have that.

You didn’t have multiple people doing things for you to ensure that you were giving enough attention to your health. So, when you miss multiple meals and fall asleep at 3 in the morning only to wake up three hours later for an early study session, not even Namjoon was there to help you take care of yourself. But you were far too tired to even think about anything that had nothing to do with your studies.

As busy as his schedule was, Namjoon made sure to come to your presentation. Rather than a paper, you simply had to give a presentation on a topic to the class and whoever felt inclined to watch. You stood near the computer off to the side as you skimmed the slide shows, looking for any grammatical errors or inconsistencies in text size.

You didn’t even notice that Namjoon had entered the room and sat down, but when his eyes were the first pair that you met when you began, your anxiety spiked. Namjoon had such a busy schedule and you didn’t want him to waste his precious time on a horrible presentation. So, with the clearing of your voice, you began.

And things were fine. Namjoon watched in awe as you spoke clearly and make eye contact with almost everyone in the room. But he grew confused when your words began to slur a bit and you began to stumble in your sentences. As you looked up at the board for reference, the words began to double and the mellow blue tone muddled together and fogged up your sight. And before Namjoon knew it, your body hit the cold floor with a thud as gasps filled the room.

Using his long legs, he bolted towards the front of the classroom and winced when he saw a thin trail of blood from the back of your head where it had hit the floor. With shaky hands, he put two fingers up to your neck, later pulling back with a sigh of content as he felt it as strong as ever. You were always a fighter. As the police were being called, Namjoon picked up your body and sat it on his lap as he rubbed your back, hoping you would come to quickly. And as he held your body, he realized how frail it was and how light you had become. Your thighs seemed slimmer, your stomach no longer had the cute little rolls he loved, and your cheeks were beginning to sink in. And underneath the makeup, he could see the deep and dark bags under your eyes.

Guilt hit Namjoon like a truck as he realized that he didn’t know how stressed and how poorly you were taking care of yourself. He watched with sad eyes filled with tears as you got lifted onto the gurney. Namjoon made a mental note to take better care of you. As you recovered, he would email all of your teachers and get extensions, and once you were able to come home, he would bring his work home and only touch it when you were asleep. When you were awake, however, Namjoon was feeding you, holding you, and watching movies with you. Anything, just so you wouldn’t doubt his love for you but also so that your health was being taken care of.

He got nervous when you began to start working on your schoolwork again, but you constantly reassured him that you were going to be fine. He would make study schedules for you and have Jin stock the refrigerator with food and he would grow worried if a container of food hadn’t been eaten, and if you hadn’t, he would sit there in front of you as you ate and watch with eyes filled with fear.

Once the comeback was over and you had passed your exams with flying colors, Namjoon took you on a vacation so you could both de-stress and reclaim your love for each other.

Kim Seokjin

You were the type to constantly get sick, so when you came down with what seemed like another cold, Jin was waiting at your bedside with hot soup, tea, tissues, and snacks. It was food, after all, that brought you and Jin together, so there was always a smile on your face when you saw your doting boyfriend with food in his arms.

Your symptoms were never consistent, but Jin, doubling as your mother, claimed he could see a cold a mile away, so he always gave you the same medicines, healthy snacks, and soup when you would begin to feel ill.

Jin was always there to nurse you back to health, and even if he was busy, he would leave the food labeled on his side of the bed so you didn’t have to get up. You often felt sick and nauseous, but you didn’t always want to be babied and treated like a patient in a hospital, so a lot of the time you kept it to yourself.

One day, in particular, you were feeling ill and Jin could sense it, but he had to work that day, so he made you a day’s worth of food, left you multiple post-it note reminders to drink water and rest, and kissed every inch of your face before he left early in the morning for practice.

You felt so nauseous, though, that you couldn’t even eat a tiny bit of the beautifully prepared food. You felt bad, but you knew Jin wouldn’t enjoy cleaning up vomit on the bed, so you settled with watching various movies and tv shows, drinking water every five minutes like Jin instructed. But, after a little while, you ran out of water, so very weakly, you got out of bed and slowly walked down the stairs, glass in hand, to get more. But without getting the slightest warning, your body fell down the remaining three stairs, the glass shattering besides your fallen figure.

Jin arrived home an hour and a half later, carrying your favorite takeout in his arms with a smile on his face. He figured you deserved a treat since you’ve been such a fighter. But the food dropped on the ground when his eyes came across your unconscious body. Rushing towards you shouting your name, he laid you down flat on the ground and examined your body for injuries as he blindly searched through his pockets for his phone. There was a massive bump and bruise on your head, but you were still breathing.

Screaming and crying into the phone, he urged an ambulance come at once. He placed the phone on the floor as he stroked your face, chanting your name and hoping you would hear him and wake up.

As you laid resting in the hospital bed, Jin sat by your side, your weak and limp hand in his as he tried to go through the events of the past few days in his head and see what was different this time about you feeling sick. But he couldn’t figure it out.

The doctor entered the room, a clipboard in hand. Jin’s head shot up. “Well, it’s good you got there when you did. We ran multiple tests and we discovered that she’s hypoglycemic. It means she has low blood sugar,” the doctor explained, causing Jin to only grow more confused. But, with the doctor explaining more, Jin began to understand. He also, however, began to blame himself for excusing your symptoms as that of a cold. He took extra care of you, even taking a few days off to make sure you knew how to better care for yourself but also so he could learn how to better care for you. Using his cooking skills, Jin always made you food that would help rise your blood sugar and he always lightly scolded you when you didn’t eat the foods that aided it.

Min Yoongi

Like Namjoon, Yoongi often spent hours on end in the studio perfecting his craft and making deadlines, but he wasn’t as good at Namjoon when it came to making time for you. Yoongi would often lose track of the days of the week when he was so deep in a zone. You always respected that because when you two first started dating, he wanted to make it very clear that he would be busy a lot, but you loved him enough and you always made sure you were here for him.

Though he never advised you to wait up for him, you couldn’t help it. Yoongi’s secure arms around your sleepy body were the equivalent of lullabies, and you needed Yoongi in order to sleep. He knew this, and he would try to get home once he was done, but he would often fall asleep in his chair. Other nights though, rarely, he would slide into bed and pull your back against him, his face settling in the crook of your neck as he placed a quick kiss before falling asleep.

You lost count of how many sleepless nights you spent on the couch waiting for Yoongi to come home. But, as you began to realize, he never really did. You worked a normal 9-5, so you weren’t at home for most of the day and that way, you could fill your empty mind with thoughts about work.

The boys were having a listening party at Bighit with all the staff to see how they all react to the new album before it’s released. Yoongi felt this would be a great chance for you to spend some time together along with the boys. He said he would meet you there. And so, yawning as you did, you put on some jeans and a nice shirt, not really knowing what to wear. You brushed your hair for a minute, not having any energy whatsoever to curl it as you usually did.

You made your way to BigHit and entered the large banquet room and searched with tired eyes for Yoongi. He sat in the corner with Jimin and you slowly and sluggishly walked over to them. Yoongi’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw you approach. “Hey, baby,” he said with a smile as he stood up and pulled you into a hug. You hadn’t seen each other for a few days as he was so busy, but being in his arms was like heaven, so you secretly hoped the hug would last forever, but he pulled away. Yoongi wasn’t a big fan of PDA when he was at work and around staff.

“Hey, y/n, how are you?” Jimin asked with a smile. You mustered up the last of your energy to smile and say, “I’m doing great, how are you, Jimin?” “I can see the glare Yoongi is giving me, so I’ll leave you to alone,” Jimin said with a laugh before turning around and walking away. Yoongi’s arm lazily slinked around your waist. “I missed you,” he hummed into your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your aching body. “I guess I missed you, too,” you joked, causing a breathy laugh to emit from his lips you so badly wanted to kiss. But you were in public and you didn’t want Yoongi to get angry.

“Everyone, we’re going to start, so if you could all settle down and get quiet!” Some important looking person shouted as the crowd of people quickly got quiet. The first song began to play and you saw as Taehyung and Jungkook began jumping around like idiots when the rap line went in. You smiled and looked at Yoongi. He stared back at you, wanting to gauge your reaction. Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, “it’s amazing, baby. Absolutely amazing.” He smiled and placed the quickest kiss on your cheek. The songs played and played, but you began to get a bit parched.

“I’m gonna go get a drink of water. I’ll be back.”

But you never made it to the table in the back with refreshments. After taking a few steps, your body lost all of its power and you collapsed on the carpeted floor. At first, people didn’t really notice as all of the focus was on BTS, but when Yoongi heard “Hyung!”, his head snapped towards the back of the room. There Hoseok was next to your unconscious body as he lightly slapped your cheeks. Yoongi wasn’t the athletic type, but he ran faster than the speed of light to you, worry evident all over his face.

“What happened?” he demanded, looking around at his fellow members, a tiny bit angry for no real reason. “I saw her and she just fell,” Hoseok explained. “Y/n, babe, wake up,” Yoongi said as he shook your body. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open and your cheeks burned red when you saw several pairs of eyes on you. Groggy, you mumbled incoherent sounds. While Yoongi was relieved you were awake, he could see what had been going on. You haven’t been sleeping.

“You need to sleep, Y/n! Damnit, do you realize how detrimental this could be to your health?” he scolded. You felt embarrassed more than anything as your boyfriend scolded you as if you were a child in a room filled with people. “Yoongi, back off a little. Just take her home,” Namjoon said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Nodding, Yoongi helped you up and held you securely in his arms as he carried you out of the building and drove you home.

He didn’t say anything on the way home, too angry to say anything, too caring to not yell at you like he wanted to. He carried you to your shared bed and tucked you in, but he left the room and left you confused. But you were far too tired to piece it together. “At least a few days. I need to be here.” You overheard a bit of his conversation outside of the bedroom as your eyes fluttered shut. And so, Yoongi crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around you, bringing your back against his chest and he placed multiple kisses along your shoulder.

“We’ll talk in the morning. But get sleep, y/n. I love you,” he whispered.

Jung Hoseok

You and Hoseok had a relationship that seemed more like that of a best friendship. You both had loud, expressive laughs, shared the same sense of clothing style and shared some of the same skills. Though both of your busy idol schedules led to not a lot of time being spent together, whenever you did, you made the most of it and always did something fun.

With you being a singer and Hoseok being a rapper, you produced some of the best songs Korea has ever heard together and Hoseok couldn’t have dreamed of a better person to collaborate with. While Friday nights were filled with pizza and movies for some couples, you and Hoseok would spend those nights in the dance studio being complete idiots together.

Most of the practices you both shared together were fun, but your comeback was coming soon, so Hoseok played the dance teacher and helped you perfect moves if they were executed incorrectly, but because you were as talented as Hoseok when it came to dance, there weren’t very many corrections to be made. On this particular Friday, you just couldn’t get this one part right. You watched as Hoseok did it perfectly, and for no reason at all, you felt yourself getting angry because he could do it but you couldn’t. It was hard being in a relationship with someone who you viewed as the best dancer in the world.

“Y/n, just take it slow and do it step by step,” he instructed as he watched from the corner as you stood in the center of the room in sweatpants and a sports bra. Your body glistened from the sweat and your muscles ached from overuse, but you had to get this right. “I am!” you snapped, pushing the stray hairs back in frustration. You looked up to see the hurt expression on Hoseok’s face in the reflection of the mirror. “I’m sorry, baby. I just..I need to get this right and my window of time for mistakes is closing,” you explained in a more mellow voice as you walked over to him.

“You’re just overthinking this. You’ve done this part a million times by now, so I know you know it,” he said as he reached over and rubbed your tense shoulders, resulting in a long, drawn-out sight to escape your lips. “I wanna do it again,” you said. He eyed you. “You’re going to overwork yourself. I think you’ve done enough for tonight, babe,” he said. You shook your head and went back to the center of the room, getting into your starting position. “Just play the music, Hoseok,” you said in all seriousness. Reluctantly, he replayed the music and watched as you danced with such aggression and passion.

During a part in which you had no choreography, you stood and waited for your cue, but Hoseok watched confused as your body began to sway. As soon as your body aimed straight for the floor, he sprinted and caught you before you fell. “Y/n, wake up. Come on, wake up, baby,” he said as he held your head gently. Though you were only out for two minutes or so, you had definitely spooked Hoseok and he was over the moon concerned. “You’re done for tonight, okay? We’re going home,” he said as he gently helped you up. You opened your mouth to object, but he shook his head. “I shouldn’t have even let you do it another time. That’s my fault. But we’re going home, y/n. You need a break,” he instructed, and all you could do is nod as you slumped against his body.

He supported your body as you both went home. He ran a bath and washed your body and your hair, not missing the chance to make a beard out of the bubbles in the soap and lightening the mood. He then helped you get dressed, spoon fed you some ice cream and cuddled you in bed until you fell asleep. Never again would he let you push yourself to the edge like that.

#bts army #bts angst #bts reactions #bts jhope #bts hobi #bts hosoek #bts rm #rapmonster #bts rap line #bts hyung line #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #bts jin

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anonsally · 4 years ago

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Day 77 of COVID-19 shelter-in-place

My entire county is under a curfew, 8pm-5am from now till Friday morning.

Students organised a peaceful demonstration this afternoon, but I couldn’t go. I’m hoping to be able to do some peaceful activism starting on Saturday.

I got up early this morning and took a ballet class from a teacher I often took class from back in the “Predemic”. It was a good start to the day, though I’m not sure I will be able to get up early enough for it on a regular basis. Afterwards, I saw that Poppy, the young female falcon, had fledged! I was pleased on several counts to read that she had landed on the math building (link is to a photo).

I started work an hour earlier than I usually manage on a Monday. Most of my coworkers were in a video meeting that ended up turning into a conversation about current events. I wish I could have been on that call, as I’m sure some group processing would have helped. But I am not involved in the project that meets at that time. I did do some reading about news-related stuff during that time, and made some donations.

I participated in 2 productive video meetings and spent the rest of the afternoon working on the data, discovering and fixing a major mistake in what I had done with it 2 weeks ago.

I took a short walk after work with my binoculars and saw a few birds--mostly at the bird feeders up the street. There were a few chestnut-backed chickadees, but then a scrub jay came and stole the last of the suet! There were still seeds in the other feeders, though, and I saw an oak titmouse, a few goldfinches (at least some of which were definitely lesser goldfinches), and a house finch.

This evening, I had a nice video call with my dad (we didn’t have any word puzzles to solve, though, having finished them all; new ones should arrive soon), and I finished watching the 1998 Twelfth Night with Helen Hunt, Paul Rudd, and Kyra Sedgwick. Viola/Cesario and Sebastian were practically identical! Aside from some questionable music and design choices (sort of ... exoticization ... with some possibly Indian-inspired costumes and music, even though the cast was almost entirely white. I was willing to give it a pass because it’s from over 20 years ago, but ymmv.), it was very good, and it’s free to stream or download.

In good news: The dance studio is participating in the Dance Industry Blackout tomorrow, closing all day (cancelling all classes) in solidarity. The Association of American Medical Colleges has put out a strong statement condemning institutionalised racism and violence and linking them to health inequities. Donations are flooding into organisations fighting for justice.

#personal #social justice #black lives matter #birdwatching #dance

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missmeikakuna · 5 years ago

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Chad and the Incel Chapter 10

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

10th Post: [Experiment] (POLL) Should I end it all?

Noah didn’t show up at school, spending all day in bed.

Chad tried messaging him but got no response. As he made his way to his locker during lunch he even tried to call him, but the mocking dirge of four gradually quieting beeps played on the phone.

‘What the hell?’ Chad asked his locker with a hiss. He added, ‘Noah, don’t ignore my calls,’ despite no one being there to hear him.

His shoulders jumped when he felt a slap on the back.

‘What’s up? Hey, where’s your ugly friend?’

Chad whipped his body around and grabbed Tyrone by the collar. ‘Who are you talking about?’ he growled.

Tyrone’s shoulders dropped. ‘Y-you know. Whatshisname, with the weird shirts and the glasses.’

‘Fuck you. You know nothing about him. Absolutely fucking nothing!’

Tyrone held his hands up like a soldier caught by the enemy. ‘Woah, c-calm down, dude! You on your p-period or something?’

Chad raised his fist but didn’t punch Tyrone, opting to drop him instead. ‘You’re not worth it. You’re a pathetic piece of shit who clearly needs glasses himself.’

Now it was Tyrone’s turn to grab Chad by the collar, albeit with a weaker grip. ‘Nobody calls me pathetic. Nobody.’ It took a crack in Tyrone’s voice for Chad to notice that the tiny boy was blinking abnormally fast. ‘And what’s your problem? You were spending all that time with whatshisface and I let you even though you were supposed to be my friend. Why? Because you seemed happy around him. You had this stupid little Grinch-looking grin on your face whenever he came into the room.’

Chad instinctively touched the ends of his lips with his thumb and pointer finger. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah.’ Tyrone let go of Chad’s collar and rubbed the back of his own neck. ‘Look, uh, s…s…’ He took a deep breath before squeezing out what he wanted to say. ‘Sorry for insulting the guy. You know me. I run my mouth a lot sometimes. By the way, what was with the part about me needing glasses?’

‘Nothing!’ Chad croaked as he swiftly turned away from him.

Tyrone shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll, uh, leave you to calm down or whatever. I wouldn’t worry too much about the guy. I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow. Probably spent all night watching whatever he watches.’

Noah did not, in fact, come back to school the next day. Or the day after that. Whenever his mother tried to get him out of bed, he screeched at her to get out of his room.

He was tempted to use his phone to watch YouTube to pass the time but he kept reminding himself of one word. ‘Cope’. Instead he lied down and thought about everything that had gone wrong in his life, from never having had a girlfriend to Chad finding his incel forum account. Though he refused to admit it even to himself, the latter caused an even greater sting in his heart.

After hours of thinking, he mustered up the motivation to stand up and grab his phone. He put up a post to the forum.

Rotcel2003- (POLL) Should I end it all?

It’s over for me. It was over for me as soon as I was born with this deformed face. And now the one girl who I thought I could be with has found this account and is mocking me for it. Should I just end it?

He checked the poll several hours later and became a mess of tears at the results. He was right.

Yes- 102 votes

No- 28 votes

Someone commented an alternative.

Islavistalol- Go ER and kill everyone. Get revenge on the girl who mocked you. Foids deserve the bullet.

He envisioned Chad’s dying face. He had done this in the past with the girls who rejected him or simply didn’t notice him but, for some reason, this time he felt pain more powerful than any pleasure he could feel at the concept of revenge. There was no way he could even attempt what the infamous Elliot Rodger did.

He added one edit to his post.

It’s decided. Goodbye, everyone.

Chad was reluctant to check the forum again. He’d already made enough of a mess. However, as he secretly looked at his phone during a boring class, he gave in and saw Noah’s final post.

‘Shit,’ he murmured as he stood up.

‘Is something wrong, Mr Beaufort?’ the teacher asked but Chad ignored him and raced out of the classroom. ‘Hey, what are you-’

Chad searched through his scrambled mind for a place Noah would commit suicide. Sweat ran down his entire body and his throat felt dry and sore as if he had just screamed for ten hours. His heart felt like it was trying to escape out of his chest and he panted like a wolf in the middle of the desert.

He got into his car and sped away.

He first stopped at Noah’s house and banged on the front door. When no one answered, he took a few steps back and kicked the door open. Noah was nowhere to be found.

He tried the train station but there was no sight of Noah. He went to a bridge where suicide was common and couldn’t find him there either.

He took out his phone and looked up advice on stopping someone from committing suicide. He only skimmed it, barely able to concentrate as memories of Noah flashed before his eyes. One thing that the boy said stuck out.

‘I’d spend the rest of my life here if I could.’

A thorny bouquet of different curse words tumbled from Chad’s mouth. He turned his car around and rushed to the local library with intentional graffiti.

As luck would have it, the door had a ‘closed’ sign attached to it.

Chad repeatedly slammed his hands against the clear doors and, when no one was there to open them, he looked around. He ran around the library until he was behind it, his heart pounding in his ears.

He saw him, dipping his toes into the lake. Chad shivered even though he wasn’t touching the water himself.

‘Noah!’

The boy turned his head, tears in his eyes. ‘Leave me alone,’ he spat. ‘I don’t want to fucking talk to you.’

Chad stepped towards him, careful not to step too close and scare Noah even more. ‘But I need to apologise. I get it. I was shitty. Real shitty. I shouldn’t have tried to meddle so much. But don’t drown yourself over me! I’m not worth it!’

Noah moved out of the lake and stormed up to Chad, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and giving him a murderous glare.

‘You think it’s ‘cause of you? You fucking narcissist. It’s not all about you. I’ve spent years of my life trying to get a girlfriend, and for what? So she can spread her fucking legs for some piece of shit like you? Everyone on that website you fucking spied on me on is right. It’s hopeless for someone like me. I look like shit, and even if I just looked average, girls don’t want an ‘average’ guy. No, they only go for the top 20 per cent of men. Do you think that’s fair, huh? Huh? And don’t try to explain it away by saying, ‘Just have a less shitty personality,’ like you know what oppression is. Fuck off!’ He shoved Chad away.

Chad touched Noah’s arms with shaking hands. Noah’s glare softened at his touch. ‘I don’t know about ‘oppression’, per se,’ Chad said. ‘But I do know what it’s like to be treated badly because of something out of my control. It’s something I’ve tried to keep hidden, so I don’t know what I’d do if I was in your shoes and people found out the truth. That’s why I’m really sorry.’

Noah pushed Chad’s arms away and started walking back towards the lake. ‘I bet your secret’s something small like, ‘A girl rejected me once so I had to go with one of my thirty other options’.’

Chad took a deep breath. ‘More like, ‘I confessed to a guy and got my ribs kicked until they broke and I had to go to the hospital’.’

Noah turned around. He said nothing. He just repeatedly opened and closed his hands as if he was trying to hold onto the air. The wind blew and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. Chad stepped closer.

‘And besides, you don’t look like shit,’ he said. ‘I’ve told you this before. You’re hot.’

When Noah put his foot in the water, Chad felt a painful bolt of electricity in his veins telling him to run forward, but he reminded himself of the consequences of trying to rush this.

Noah sighed. ‘Do you think I want to hear that from you? Guys want everything. They’d fuck a walking table if they could. Hearing stuff like that from a guy isn’t the same as hearing it from a soft, feminine femoid…’

Chad had to tune out when Noah started describing the ideal woman. He pictured Noah having sex with a woman and felt like he was going to vomit.

‘… so I don’t want to hear it from a degenerate like you.’

‘Degenerate?’

‘You just told me you’re a faggot.’

Chad felt like slapping himself when his blood started to boil. How could he want to punch someone who was on the verge of suicide?

‘I’m not a faggot,’ he murmured with his head down as he shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I liked Becky, remember?’

‘I bet that was just a cover-up.’ The more Noah explained, the weaker his voice became, as if his own mind was already arguing with everything he was saying. ‘You just wanted to cope with your degeneracy by acting like a normal person so you could bang a bunch of other Chads behind the scenes. Knowing you it worked. You probably get to sleep with ten men a night just like a femoid. And me? I get to spend the rest of my life not knowing the love of a woman. Or maybe you’re really straight and you’re just coping with Becky rejecting you so you pretended to like me. You wanted to convince yourself you’re happy when you’re really miserable.’

Chad took another step. ‘Is that last bit how you feel... about yourself?’

Noah released a single quick laugh. ‘I’m eighteen for Christ’s sake. Guys half my age are already having sex.’ Chad winced at the thought. ‘If these are the best years of my life, I may as well die now. No femoid is going to wake me up with a kiss and tell me the kids are already up, excited for their Christmas presents. No femoid’s going to cook my favourite meal when I come home from work upset at my boss. And no femoid is ever going to tell me she found this goofy-looking tie and thought of me so she bought it. If I stay alive, I’m going to be a virgin at fifty and everyone’s going to look at me like a worthless waste of space. Humans are supposed to reproduce, right? What’s the use of a man who can’t do that? I’m going to die alone. I just know it.’

Noah submerged his ankles in the water, then his shins. Chad grabbed his arm. ‘What’s your favourite meal?’ was the only question he could come up with in such a short amount of time.

Noah bit his lip. ‘Meatloaf,’ he whispered, looking away from Chad. ‘I know it’s normie shit but Mom makes it with this weird spice that makes it ten times better. I’d… love to ask her what the spice is so I can tell my future wife and she can cook it for me.’

‘You can’t do that if you’re dead.’

After Chad said that he rubbed the back of his own neck. ‘Look, I really hope this doesn’t look like I’m insulting you, but I don’t see the logic in what you’re saying. It seems like you’re taking one thing that’s happening now and convincing yourself that it’s the end of the world. The steps between you not getting laid right now and you dying alone don’t seem to connect. And it’s not like you’re a virgin anymore since we, you know….’

Noah stepped further into the water and Chad pulled him back. ‘Wait! I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry. I’m not trying to, you know, downplay what you’re feeling right now. It’s just that it doesn’t seem very rational and I know you’re the kind of person who believes in logic and reason.’

‘I’m not… rational? I’m very rational. I understand more about the world than some Christian who probably tries to pray the gay away.’

‘That may be true, but right now you’re not acting very rational. It’s like someone’s possessed you and put these thoughts into your head against your will. You’re not really like this, Noah. I know you’re not.’

Chad wiped the tears that were beginning to surface in his eyes. ‘And, to be honest, I’d like to wake you up with a kiss and tell you our future kids are already up for Christmas. I’d like to learn that meatloaf recipe and make it for you after a hard day’s work. I’d probably skip the middleman and ask your mom directly. And I’m probably not good at picking out ties, but I could buy you one if you wanted me to. I’m sure by then I’d know you well enough to know which one to pick.

‘Actually, you know what? It doesn’t matter what I want right now. You’re right, I’m a narcissist. Even if we never got together and I saw you going out with some chick, I’d be happy enough. I’d survive. Even if we never had sex again and I never had sex with anyone else, ever, I’d be okay. Even if I’m fifty years old. If someone looked at you funny for being a fifty-year-old virgin, you know I’d punch their lights out.’

Chad lowered his hand from his tear-stained face and smiled at Noah, pulling him just a little bit closer. He himself stepped closer, trying his best to ignore the coldness circling his feet as the water seeped into his them through the holes in his socks. Noah’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes grew several sizes, his lips pursed and his limbs stiff.

‘You see, even if you don’t get a girl, you’ll still have friends, family and all that good stuff,' Chad assured him in a soft but firm voice, brushing his fingers against Noah’s cheek. 'You’re not a waste of space. It’s just whatever’s possessed your mind telling you that.

‘Look, I’m not too good at talking about this kind of thing. I’m not even sure if I should really be arguing about this with you instead of just listening to you. Maybe you should talk to someone who, I don’t know, gets paid to listen to people going through what you’re going through. They should have better advice than me. Please, just talk to someone about this.

‘And not that forum. I know I don’t know what I’m doing, but I sure as hell know more than those idiots who told you to kill yourself. It’s not like they’re people who have gotten out of your situation. It’s like going to a support group for alcoholics run by someone who’s still an alcoholic and hasn’t gotten help themselves.’

Noah’s mouth opened but he didn’t say anything. His eyes moved from side to side as he contemplated what Chad said. Tears spilled out of his eyes and made his cheeks sting. His nose started to run and he put on a tiny smile. He looked into Chad’s eyes. When he realised that his fingers were still on his cheek, he pushed them away and stepped back. He gasped when the wet earth underneath him started to shift, pulling him into the water. He instinctively reached for Chad’s hand and inadvertently dragged him down with him.

Both were surrounded by pitch black. Noah closed his eyes, tears joining the lake water. Once the shock wore off, Chad looked up at the surface, which had a light he could just barely see. He wrapped one arm around Noah’s waist and when he did so, Noah opened his eyes as if waking from a nightmare. The two swam up together.

Loud gasps for breath echoed throughout the area. Chad hauled Noah onto land and Noah, in turn, pulled him up. They lied down, shivering, on the grass. They breathed heavily as they looked at the sky.

‘I think I should take you to a hospital,’ Chad suggested.

‘Why? I’m not injured.’

‘That’s good to hear. But, I mean, you’re still injured in the mind.’ Chad took his phone out of his pocket and tried to turn it on but the screen remained black. ‘Shit! So, I was on a website that said people who attempt suicide have to go to the hospital, even if they’re not physically hurt.’

‘So I can be shipped off to a madhouse and feel even worse?’

‘Not really. They’ll just check up on you and keep you safe for a night or two. Then we can find you a therapist.’

‘We?’

Chad’s eyes went all over the place. 'Well, yeah. Like I said, even if you don’t want to date me, we’re still a team. I won’t try to meddle too much since you know how that turned out, but you can always talk to me if you don’t like the therapist or whatever, and we can switch ‘em.’ He stood up and held out his hand. Noah hesitated but took it, and as soon as he stood up he started sobbing loudly into Chad’s chest. His shoulders relaxed when Chad put his arms around them and patted his head.

The two walked like this, with Chad still holding Noah close and whispering words of encouragement into his ear. Chad helped Noah into the car and drove him to the hospital while Noah relayed to him the various reasons he attempted suicide. Chad knew most of this, but he listened anyway.

When the doctors took Noah away, Chad sat in the waiting room with knees that repeatedly bounced up and down. He looked around him and felt fear strike his heart when he noticed how plain and lifeless the white walls were. Was this the right environment for Noah?

This fear clawed at his heart for a good half hour until a doctor called out to him and took him to Noah’s ward.

‘You should feel proud,’ the doctor said.

Chad raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m supposed to be proud? What was I supposed to do? Let him die?’

The doctor chuckled. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Am I really allowed to see him this early?’

‘He wanted to see you. He said he’d attempt suicide again if I didn’t let you in.’

Noah’s face was already fresher, though his eyes were still red and puffy. He gave Chad a small smirk.

‘Do I look sexier now in a blue gown?’

Chad sighed in relief. ‘Please don’t tempt me. You’re doing surprisingly well if you can joke like that.’

Noah scratched his cheek. ‘I thought about what you said and you were right. That forum just made me worse. I… I feel like a class-A moron.’ He let tears escape from his eyes.

‘You’re not a moron. You just got sucked into it.’

Noah wiped his eyes and raised his head at the doctor. ‘Uh, can Chad and I speak privately?’ The doctor nodded and closed the curtain. ‘Can you come here?' he asked Chad, who obliged. He held his arm up and, after a few seconds of curling up his fingers, cupped Chad’s cheek. 'Thank you for putting up with me.’

‘I’m not ‘putting up with you’. People don’t just ‘put up with’ the ‘people they love.’

Noah averted his gaze. ‘Love, huh?’

‘Uh, well, um, I meant… I meant to say ‘like’ but I just blurted out that word and I didn’t mean to come across as creepy or too forward or anything like that, uh, so…’

Noah choked out a laugh, his smile like that of someone who had been shot by an arrow that just missed a vital organ. He shifted his hand until it was under Chad’s chin, pulling him a tiny bit closer.

‘Why’d it have to be a guy?’ he grumbled. ‘I never saw my future self liking, or loving, or… whatever... another guy.’

A big, dumb smile adorned Chad’s face. Noah slowly and tentatively pulled him even closer and brushed his lips against his. As he closed his eyes he initially envisioned smoke, but the image quickly evaporated. The kiss was fleeting, but it was enough for now.

#chad vs incel #chad x incel #bisexual #incel #romance #drama #original fiction #breaking stereotypes #lesbian #Chad and the Incel

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nancypullen · 5 years ago

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Monday Morning

This day dawned sunny, bright, and breezy, just the way I like ‘em. I missed posting yesterday but it was a banner day. My sister and I had a delightful video chat with Mom and we laughed ourselves silly. It was so good to see their faces and share some giggles. My hat is off to my mother for whipping out her iPad and knowing how to FaceTime. Most folks her age are scared of technology but she’s always willing to give it a whirl. I should have posted a long, heartfelt Mother’s Day post, but isn’t it better just to reach out to the person and tell them you love them? And speaking of heartfelt Mother’s Day activities, my guys spoiled me rotten. The mister served me breakfast in bed, complete with his killer Eggs Benedict and chocolate dipped strawberries. YUM! Then my guys presented me with a rug for the porch, pillows for the deck, craft supplies, books, and organizing tools. Oh my! Every gift was EXACTLY right. Mickey installed the rack and I spent a good portion of the afternoon re-bottling (is that a word?) and organizing my spices to go into this awesome pull out rack. It holds 30 bottles and solves my dark cavern of a spice cupboard that I may have complained about a few hundred times.

Hallelujah! I haven’t decided whether I should alphabetize the bottles or just put the most used herbs and spices toward the front. Did I mention books?

This is one I’ve been dying to read. Every return trip to Salem I learn a bit more about the oh-so-interesting Peabody sisters. They’ve been called America’s Brontës. All three were intelligent, passionate, and continually urged society to be better, kinder,and wiser. Elizabeth was a “mind-on-fire thinker” according to historians, and was a powerful progressive influence on friends Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne. She was a teacher, a writer, a publisher, business owner, literate in ten languages, and founded the country’s first English-language kindergarten. I feel accomplished when I dust and vacuum in one day. Middle sister Mary was a writer, teacher, fluent in several languages, and a passionate reformer - she took on prisons, insane asylums, etc. She fell madly in love with and married Horace Mann, educator and politician, and they devoted themselves to promoting the belief that in a democratic society, education should be free and universal, nonsectarian,and reliant on well-trained professional teachers. The youngest sister, Sophia, was frail and often ill. Rumor has it that her father, a dentist who loved to experiment, treated her infant teething pain with mercury and caused her lifelong health problems. Still, Sophia was an illustrator, painter, as smart and progressive as her sisters, was handy in Latin, French, Greek, Hebrew, and German. She won the heart of author Nathaniel Hawthorne, though he’d paid attention to all three sisters, causing some rivalry. Elizabeth met him first and swooned, declaring him “more handsome than Lord Byron.” When she urged Sophia to come downstairs to meet him, she laughed and said, "If he has come once he will come again" After meeting her, Nathaniel wrote the tale Edward Randolph’s Portrait, which included an artist character inspired by Sophia. Although he was smitten by her, Sophia never planned to marry due to her health. Still, they were married five years after meeting and Nathaniel wrote to his sister, “We are as happy as people can be, without making themselves ridiculous, and might be even happier; but, as a matter of taste, we choose to stop short at this point." They were quite a romantic couple, head over heels for each other, and their union produced three children, two daughters and a son. When Nathaniel died, Sophia wrote,"My darling has gone over that sapphire sea, and these grand soft waves are messages from his eternal rest." Isn’t that beautiful? So now that I’ve shared more than you ever cared to know about the Peabody sisters, I’m going to bury my nose in that book. The other book addresses my love of sky watching, it’s filled with both scientific information and whimsy. Each type of cloud is detailed and explained, but there are also chapters devoted to clouds in illustrations and clouds that look like things (people, animals, etc).

And look! I didn’t even know this existed - and now I need my own cyanometer.

I love this book too! It feeds my soul. I received new rolls of washi tape for crafts, and you can bet that this gal will be decorated with a strip or two.

She was actually holding a big stick or a bat or something and I lopped it off to suit my purposes. She doesn’t look sorry and neither am I. ha! I’ll post pics of the porch rug and the new deck pillows just as soon as I fluff everything up and get it just the way I like it. But here’s a peek at the pillow covers.

Kind of fabulous, huh? I love them! Alright, I’ve probably bored you to tears and it’s time for me to get back to painting rocks. Very important work I’m doing, this fairy village ain’t going to build itself. I just wanted to share a bit of my Mother’s Day fun. Every year I tell them to dial it back because I feel guilty - I’m no longer an exhausted mother, still in the trenches. Yet every year they make me feel so very special. Who on Earth would I be if not for the two souls who made my life so wonderful? They were my focus during hard times and my absolute joy all of the time. They made me stronger, smarter, more creative, and I’m more proud of them and their accomplishments than anything I could have ever done on my own. They’re truly the best people I know. This photo snapped after Tyler’s arrival sums it up - my whole world in my arms.

Motherhood, the greatest adventure of all. Hope your day was special too, and that you spread some love around. Take care of yourselves, stay safe and well. See you tomorrow and we’ll talk about rocks (I never promised you excitement or anything remotely cool). XOXO - Nancy

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treatian · 5 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 46: Beyond Their World

And so it began.

Regina was married. And as he'd watched her walk down the aisle, escorted by her father, and take the King's hand in her own while Snow White beamed, he'd had a vision. A beautiful vision. It was one that he hoped was not the doing of his own imagination but rather the result of the Seer that still lived in his very skin. The vision was of Regina, but not the scared little doe-eyed girl that was marrying the King if only to keep herself safe from persecution, no, certainly not. This Regina was older, darker. The white smile on her face was not one of true happiness but rather a smile of a trickster. She'd been dressed in black, her clothing showing off shapely curves, her hair twisted high into a knot on her head. In her hand was a heart, glowing red and beautiful and the name, the moniker that came to mind as he watched the priest pronounce them Man and Wife was not Queen Regina, but rather, The Evil Queen.

How reassuring.

And yet, there was still a long way to go before that vision was achieved; he simply knew it. The lessons that followed it confirmed it.

Regina was different than Cora in several ways, some good and some bad. Her strength, the magic that flowed through his new student, was powerful, far more than her mother's. But getting her to use it…now that was a tricky task. Cora had had such a difficult life she'd been determined to do anything she could to get ahead. That determination was her motivation, and Cora had taken in every lesson he'd ever taught her, taking it upon herself to quickly master what she'd never had access to before.

Regina had no such motivation. True, her childhood with Cora had not been an easy or enjoyable one. But where her father, Daniel, and even her horses were concerned, she'd had a much better life than Cora. The good had outweighed the bad. And now with Cora secure in Wonderland, the guards searching the Kingdom hopelessly for her after Regina had told them she'd stepped out and never returned, there was very little he had to work with. Her father was with her, happy and healthy, getting along splendidly with the King. Her horses were safe and at her disposal. And Daniel…he, or rather, his body was a problem. Still kept protected by Regina's preservation spell, she was often distracted by that body. It gave Regina hope, and he realized after a short amount of time that it wasn't for power or even protection she was learning magic, but rather with the hope that one day she might bring her love back to life. She was wrong, of course, in many ways. She needed hate and devastation to fuel her as he'd seen thus far. Not hope.

All he really had to work with after Cora's banishment, was Regina's current marriage. Being married to the King was not something Regina was happy about. There were perks, and what came with the union was why she'd ultimately followed through, but it wasn't what she'd hoped. And how could it have been? Married again barely a year after his wife had died?! Leopold was too attached to Snow to really care for his new wife the way a husband should. Regina knew it. And she felt it as well. He encouraged those emotions, not only because he knew what would come, but because it helped egg her on now.

Cora's spell over the mirrors turned out to have been sealed using blood magic, and he was quick to convince Regina that it would be smart to undo it, but the actual act had been something of a challenge.

"But then…if I do this…won't people be able to see in to me? Dressing or…or bathing?!"

"The answer to that is simple…" in midair, he conjured a blanket and threw it over the mirror they were working with. "No sight…no sound…but as it is, if you ever found yourself with a need to get in communication with someone, say…your teacher…you'd be able to see, but not hear…very poor way of communication if you ask me.

"But then…" he removed the blanket quickly. "What does it matter? If it makes you uncomfortable? It's not as if you're not already watched constantly by the King…by Snow White…the servants even…"

"But…I am watched by them. Constantly, it's as if they don't ever stop looking in on me."

Indeed, it was getting more and more difficult for them to find time and places to practice for even just a few minutes before someone stormed in to demand her time.

"So…wouldn't it be nice to have the upper hand, to give them a taste of their own medicine? To watch the King as he works? To overhear every last word dear Snow White says to everyone?"

A sneer grew over Regina's mouth. "Show me how!"

And with that, Cora's spell was undone. Sight and sound into Regina's life was restored. But it wasn't always easy. One problem Regina had that Cora never did was time. Engaged to her Prince in his castle, she'd always managed to find time for magic. But as the acting Queen, step-mother to a young girl, and wife to the King, her schedule was packed tight. In the end, the mirrors were helpful to communicate even if all they had was ten minutes or so. The rest of the time he spent back at his castle, waiting for the next summons, plotting his next lesson…and listening to Jefferson.

He had to admit that his own education was growing considerably as well, thanks to the boy. He was becoming something of a regular occurrence in his life. He never returned with news of the curse, but at least he never came back from an excursion empty-handed either. He often brought him strange and interesting items from other realms that he visited. Useless to him or not, money was never a concern, so he bought them from him just to hear the stories and absorb as much information as he could about these other places. Some of them had such strange customs and items.

"Stethoscope��" Jefferson explained as he sat upon the table, allowing him to examine the odd object in his hands now. "Pinched it from the Doc when he wasn't looking in the Land Without Color."

"A doctor, you say…"

"Yeah, about the only interesting part of that world if you ask me. He's trying to resurrect the dead. But I don't go there often; it's difficult to blend in during the daylight."

"And why might that be?"

"Well, I didn't name it the Land Without Color for its rainbows," he retorted from his place on top of the table. "It's without color…black, and white, and gray all over, and I'm…well, not without color."

"Yes, yes, I see, you needn't have added that last little bit," he growled as he paid him for the object.

On and on, he could talk about realms far from this singular one he lived in. Realms without end it sometimes seemed, though he did promise him that there was an end, an edge. One realm in particular, where time stood still and the sun hung in the sky in eternal sunset.

"Or maybe it's sunrise? Ah well, I don't like to go there either really so it doesn't really matter," he commented. "It's bad for my health! Time moves differently in all these realms and there especially it's incredibly fast. I spent a week there once, laying low after stealing a ruby from Agraba, I was really after some scissors, but it was a nice consolation prize. Anyway, when I went back to try and sell the thing they nearly killed me again, it was still the night I'd stolen it!"

"How curious…" he muttered absent-mindedly. On and on, Jefferson could talk about realms when he wanted him to and when he didn't want to. He was attempting to test the potion he was working on while Regina was out touring the Kingdom with her new family, and Jefferson was chattering on and on by his side. This was one of those times he really would rather have concentrated than listen. "Tell me, Jefferson, you don't like Wonderland, you don't like The Land Without Color, and you don't like this Edge of Realms…where do you prefer to go?"

Jefferson stared at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Oz isn't bad. And the Land of Untold Stories is pretty interesting, not to mention all it requires is a key and not my hat to get there. London is quite profitable too. To be honest, I like anywhere I can make money easily!"

Cities of emerald, Wonderland, and at least three different realms that each had a very different copy of a city called "London", where magic was different in each one; he'd never admit it, but sometimes thinking about the realms made him dizzy. It was all fascinating, truly it was. He welcomed the information. What wasn't always welcomed was Jefferson's long stays at the castle between trips. He wasn't sure how the boy had gotten the invitation to stay at his castle like he was some kind of teenager who didn't want to go home to his parents, but he knew that he was growing accustomed to being at work and seeing Jefferson sudden appear seemingly out of nowhere and haunt the halls of his castle before he suddenly disappeared just as mysteriously as he'd arrived.

In truth his yammering was only a problem for his sanity. The boy did seem to recognize some boundaries, though he did have a habit of testing his luck.

"Any sign of my curse?"

"Nothing on that," he sighed, sounding disappointed himself. "I ask everywhere I go, but mostly all I get for it is blank stares. If you had more information…"

"If I had more information, I wouldn't need to send you out looking to and fro now, would I?"

"Just a suggestion. It's not like looking for curses is in my typical wheelhouse. I usually specialize in rare items that glitter and make me money. But I'll keep looking. Never know what you might find out there. Last week I actually discovered a world where pigs fly. If that's possible, anything is!"

As Jefferson muttered his last word his head snapped up. Someone had just come onto the castle grounds. Two souls, one human and the other...at the speed the individual was approaching it must have been a horse. The Seer said nothing about the unexpected visit. It was probably a nobody coming to make a deal. He hoped they were more interesting than Jefferson, or at the very least less annoying. They'd be to the door any second now.

"Wait here and stay out of sight!" he snapped at the boy when he finally heard the knock on the door. With a wave of his hand, the objects he had on the table in the great room vanished back up to his workstation.

"What you think I'm not used to the rules of your business by now?!" Jefferson hollered after him as he left the room. He didn't panic. Annoying as he was, Jefferson was a smart man and knew better than to stay around when he wasn't wanted. When he returned to the room with his "business", as Jefferson had called it, he knew the boy would be gone from sight. Or else he'd find someone else to work that hat for him.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Regina #Evil Queen #Jefferson #Mad Hatter #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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