#the elbow-high diaries

[hanzajesthanza]

i like the litmus test of, if somone’s favorite witcher (books) character is milva, you know they are going to have the most based opinions about the series

[aetlasx]

Paradox: 1

pair: eddie munson x witch!reader

summary: life as a teenage girl wasn’t all that it’s been chalked up to be…especially when a boy you’ve never met breaks your nose.

tw: jason being a dick & a broken nose (lmk if I missed anything!)

a/n: tysm for reading!!! i am sosososo sorry the first part took forever!! i’m working on the next part as we speak

- purple text = flashback

prev.

October 6th, 1983

*THIS IS NOT A DIARY*

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, “This is totally a diary.”

Dustin elbowed you in the ribs. He huffed as he focused once more at the composition he held in his hand.

*THIS IS NOT A DIARY*

*THIS IS A SCIENTIFIC JOURNAL*

Approximately 15 days ago, our prime subject was approached by a middle-aged Blonde Caucasian male. About 6 foot, blue eyes, formal attire, and an angelic innocence to him.

Our subject says that this individual would appear in her dreams until he eventually manifested, waiting for her at her place of employment, Elwood Records, wanting to offer her something.

A chill was sent down your spine. You tensed as you noticed the familiar blonde smiling from across the street, leaning against his car. You were closing and your coworkers had already headed home. The man from the hospital…from your dreams…finally waiting for you..

As you finally locked the door, you turned back around to see him motioning for you to get in. Everything in you told you to run for it but somehow your legs compelled to follow the notion. The car ride was short and quiet. Hawkins was dead for the night and even if you wanted to scream for help, there wasn’t even a soul out there to hear you.

We arrived at Lover’s Lake, we got out of the car and walked towards the bend of the river. The moonlight sparkled off the water.

After driving for a while, he finally pulled over. Only a few blocks from your house. He got out of the vehicle and began strolling down the street. Doing the same, you caught up to him. “It’s nice to finally see you again. He smiled warmly. His presence was almost suffocating. “I know your pain. I feel it.”

Swallowing nervously, your house was only a sprint away. You could hear your heart beating from your ears. He got in front of you, his dark eyes boring into you were a mix of intrigue and something darker. “You’re not like the others in this town, are you? They’ll never understand you—your friends, your family, they’ll never see you for who you truly are.” He paused, you let the words sink in, his gaze never leaving yours.

“But what I’m about to offer you, it’ll make you better than them. Better than you ever realized. You were made for so much more—you just haven’t reached your true potential yet.” He excitedly exclaimed, his grip finding your arms and squeezing them for reassurance. “Trust me, this is your chance.”

His words wrapped around you like a promise and a threat. However, your eyes drifted towards the slight movement near his cuff. A small black spider crawled from his sleeve. Flinching, his grip on you tightened, as your eyes darted back to his, his icy blue orbs kept you frozen under his spell. The spider scuttled down his hand and onto your arm. Before you could even react, it darted to towards your face and with a sudden, involuntary gasp, you felt the insect slip past your lips and down your throat.

Henry smiled, leaning in close as you choked back fear and revulsion. “With my help, you’ll be unstoppable.” You felt a heat spread through you, a terrifying surge of power.

She can’t remember going into her house or how she got into bed, but the next morning she woke up with the ability to move things with her mind. I have been helping her, to the best of my ability, tame these supernatural powers.

You and Dustin stood in the woods behind the high school. A few empty soda cans were lined up on a fallen log. The air was tense with anticipation. You focused on the first can, brow furrowing, you clenched your fist and the can crumpled with a sharp crunch. The next one followed just as easily, collapsing with a satisfying clench. Dustin watched with wide eyes, half in awe, half in nervousness.

Turning towards the last can, something in you shifted. A flash of anger surged within you—memories of the name calling, bullying, the lack of your best friend’s support, and the guy-wrenching feeling of being alone. You clenched your jaw, clenching your fist again, the can not crushing this time; it erupted. Flames shot out as it consumed the metal in the sudden burst of fire.

You stumbled back, shocked, your breath hitching in your throat. You heard Dustin yelp, taking cover behind a tree. His eyes darting back and forth between you and the can.

“That’s…new,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The fire flickered and died, leaving behind scorched metal and an uneasy silence. Turning back to glance at your cousin, the poor boy’s face was turned pale with a blend of admiration and fear. You weren’t going to tell him but whatever that was, it felt like it was no longer just yours—it was something darker, something that had been waiting to break free.

A new power has emerged. She can manipulate fire with her mind, and I can’t tell if it was an accident or something else. Before the flames erupted, she looked furious, like something inside her snapped.

Dustin shook out of his trance as he heard the bell echo in the distance. The two of you rushed back to your schools, bidding him a farewell. You wouldn’t know it but he watched as you entered your high school, gazing with admiration. But the literal spark in your eyes was new. He couldn’t shake the feeling your strength and control were tightrope walking between chaos and control.

As you walked into your first class, you shared it with Nancy. As you walked past her gaze, your eye briefly met hers, feeling the weight of your fractured friendship. In the moment, Nancy felt like she was staring into a mirror that reflected all hers unspoken words and regrets. She looked away, her head hanging low. You quickly took your seat on the opposite side of the room. Thinking about what had happened when you had first made the deal you did with Him…

It wasn’t like you meant to, you had barely gotten your powers. You clearly didn’t know what you were doing.

A few days after getting these powers, you decided to study at the library for a big test coming up. However, Steve, Tommy, and Carol had other plans when they cornered you, throwing taunts as a guilt ridden Nancy pleaded with them to stop. When they finally stopped, something in you snapped. As they turned to leave, a sudden but unintentional surge of power flowed through you. Focusing on the bookshelf they were passing, it quickly crashed down behind them—barely missing them. Books were scattered as they turned around, realizing they had barely escaped. You stood there stunned by what you had just done. Nancy had stared at you with wide eyes, a mixture of fear and sadness.

That’s when you decided to go to your cousin Dustin for help. Sure, he might be young, but he seemed into this kind of stuff. Granted it had only been several weeks but, he put in the work for sure. Showing you his endless superhero comics and comparing your power to theirs.

Luckily, after word had spread about the library incident, a lot of your torment died down. Maybe high school wasn't going to be bad so bad after all, but today was one of those days.

As you took your usually seat at lunch, you eyed the crowded cafeteria. Sometimes Jonathan would sit with you but he had been busy with a project which left you with your quirky acquaintance, Robin. You normally sat with her whenever he was busy, exchanging small talk and trading food from time to time. When you were done, bid goodbye to her and made your way to the trash. However, when you turned around to leave, Jason Carver stood in front of you eyeing you like prey.

"Not so fast," he sneered, you glared back at him as some of his other friends gathered. "Why the nasty face? I'm here for Chrissy, she needs a tampon. She can't find them anywhere in Hawkins since you sold them out." You felt the familiar sting of humiliation creep up your spine. Clenching your jaw, your knuckles turned white as you dug your nails into your palm.

"Funny, Carver." a unfamiliar voice called out behind you. He walked over to where you stood. You couldn't put your finger on it but you had seen him around. "With the way you're wanting them so bad it sounds like you're the one who's needing them."

You rage was finally bubbling over. You refocused your mind, reaching out in a desperate impulsive move. A subtle flicker of your powers and Jason's pants suddenly dropped to his ankles. Laughter erupted throughout the cafeteria as he fumbled to yank his pants back up, his face reddening with anger and emarrassment.

Jason lunged at you, but before he could, the boy tried to shield you, taking the strike that was meant for you. A crowd started gathering as the two boys went back and forth, but in the midst of chaos, Jason pushed your protector towards you causing his elbow to collide with your nose with a sharp crack. Blood dripped down your lip as you staggered back, stunned and dazed.

The crowd fell into a stunned silence as the principal shoved his way through shouting for order. Clutching your nose, the sting of both physical pain and humiliation settled within you again.

"Munson! Carver! In my office now!" The principal shouted, then turned towards you, "You too Vale."

Standing as you gripped the phone, hand wavering over the buttons, you paused for a brief moment. You couldn't call your sister, even though she was moody and overbearing, she would come in kicking and screaming. You couldn't call you aunt, she'd start to worry about Dustin and figure out you're not the greatest influence to be around.

"Would you just call someone please." the receptionist sighed in annoyance.

Finally punching in a number, you looked up through your watery eyes at the bruised and beaten up boys. Jason sat with his head low, eyes focused on his shoes and as for the one the principal named Munson, your eyes met for a moment. Why did he do that? You were positive that Jason bullies him too. But why now? Why you?

As you shuttered under his stare, the other line finally picked up, causing you to look away.

The soft hum of the ABBA played throughout the somber office. The ice that you held to on your nose beginning to annoy you. Glancing at the boy who broke your nose beside you, you finally got his name. Eddie Munson.

You sort of remember him from middle school, except he didn't have hair back then. Now he has a short messy mop of curls, maybe that's why. He would glance at you from time to time with remorse in his eyes.

Your attention shifted when the nurse called you back into her office.

"It's broken alright, thought it was bruised." you winced as she touched it.

You heard heavy rushed footsteps coming in through the door. Your out of breath brother in law, taken back by the sight. "A fight. Whoever got her did quiet the number. Every teenager’s dream right there—rhinoplasty." the nurse smirked.

"Ted–"

He walked over gently taking his face into your hands. Looking over at the crookedness of your nose. The bruising starting to darken your eyes.

"Are you mad?" you whisper, tears threatening to spill. "June would've...would've."

"Gone ballistic. I understand. It's okay." he softly smiled pulling you into a hug, "I'm just glad you're alright." It truly warmed your heart that at least someone, who was an adult, was on your side. "How'd this happen?"

You explained everything to him, subtly pointing at the boys with their respective guardians, as to how this all happened. The nurse eventually came in to set your nose as best as a high school nurse could. "The principal will see everyone in a minute."

Waiting around for a few more minutes, Teddy started humming and tapping his foot to the beat of "SOS". Turning towards him, you gave him a puzzled look. "Big ABBA fan?" you whisper.

He shook his head, "June is. She sang this the night that we met at the bar." he smiled warmly remembering the event. From what he had told you before, she was just a college student who would sing her heart out at the local bar and he was just a lawyer who needed a drink. But on the night they met, June described it as as ABBA song. "This is her favorite band ever." he added.

"She never plays it at the house?" you questioned

"She stopped listening to them, said they reminded her of happier times."

"When did she stop?" you ask as he finally looked back at you. His eyes said it all. She had clearly stopped enjoying them when she had to take you in. Maybe it was just a teenage thing but clearly, you ruined her life.

Finally, the principal came out to allow everyone into his cramped office.

“I was the one who broke her nose,” Eddie admitted. “I stood up for her, but Jason was the one who threw the first punch.

Jason’s father shot to his feet. “You see? It was this delinquent. Come on, Jason, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“With all due respect,” Teddy countered, “Carver, your son’s a menace—not just to my kid, but to others as well.”

Jason’s father sneered. “Watch it, Ted. I’ve got connections with the mayor, and as for you”—he pointed at the principal—“our hefty donations to this school will end if anything happens to my son.”

The principal cleared his throat, “Very well, suspension for—“

“Are you kidding me!?” Teddy shouted “How is that any fair?”

“You should be use to it Ted, it’s just the way that things work around here.” Jason’s dad gloated “it’s called justice.”

“Is suspension really necessary when Eddie was just defending her?” Eddie’s uncle interjected.

Teddy stood up, enraged, stomping over to the other man.

“Look Ted,” he started, “you’re not in a big city anymore. You’re in Hawkins. Face it. You’re nobody in the town. Word spreads fast about your little family and that freak of a kid—“

Fuming, Teddy stood and stomped over to Jason’s father.

“Face it, Ted,” Jason’s dad sneered, “you’re not in the big city anymore. This is Hawkins. You’re nobody here, and word’s spreading fast about your family and that freak kid of yours—”

Before he could finish, Teddy punched him hard, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Momentarily stunned by his own reaction, Teddy grabbed you by the shoulder. “Uh, right. Well, Principal, you can expect a generous Christmas donation from us—and from the Munsons!”

Without another word, he rushed you both out of the room. You laughed all the way to the car, still in disbelief over what had happened.

After a short drive to his office, you greeted the receptionist, then threw yourself onto the couch.

Teddy dropped into his chair, propped his feet on the desk, and lit a cigarette. “Listen,” he said, “you’ll have to come clean to June, but she can never know what I did.”

Eddie sat in his van, gazing at the glowing record store that illuminated the dark street. His cheek still radiated heat from the punch he took earlier, and he was grappling with everything that had gone down. He watched as you paced between the shelves, clutching vinyl records, your focus shifting from one album to another.

His uncle's words echoed in his mind. “Boy, you better apologize to her and do something nice for her! I can’t afford no nose job!”

Taking a deep breath, he noticed the building's lights flicker off, signaling closing time. You stepped outside, locking the door behind you. He exhaled, careful to not make a sound as he slowly approached.

From behind, he watched you study your reflection in the glass. You cupped your hands over your face, and he could see the tension in your shoulders ease. The crookedness and the blotchy purple hue beneath your eyes seemed to vanish, and your nose looked as good as new. You smiled to yourself, a moment of gratitude for your newfound powers, but that smile faltered when you caught a glimpse of his silhouette in the window.

As you turned, Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just me! I just wanted to stop and—woah… your nose?” He took a step closer, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.

You glanced down, cheeks flushing. “Y-yeah, my brother-in-law got me in to see the doctor really quick after we left.”

His puzzled expression lingered, his gaze taking in the details of you—the way your hair framed your face and the hesitant smile playing at your lips. “It looks perfectly fine… like nothing ever happened?”

“The doctor was really good,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over your nose. “A lot of ice and… makeup! Actually!”

He nodded, an awkward silence enveloping the air between you. Clearing your throat, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the weight of humiliation lingering. “I-I should actually be thanking you…I mean, after Jason’s pants went down, I almost saw my life flash before my eyes.”

He chuckled, recalling the image of Jason in his ridiculous boxers. “I wish I could’ve gotten a picture.” Heat rose not just in his cheek, but across his whole face as he saw the sweet smile spreading on yours.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You nodded, telling him your name, a slight smile creeping back onto your lips. “But I’m sure you know who I am…”

Your palms felt sweaty, your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you finally looked up, searching his eyes for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.” He shifted on his feet, his voice softer now, the connection between you palpable.

Nodding, you turned to walk away before he could say anything else, a wave of nervousness washing over you.

“Hey! Wait! You’re not walking home in the dark, right?”

You shrugged, your heart racing as you nodded.

“Please, let me at least drive you home.”

After a brief pause, you relented, walking back to his van. The drive was quiet, filled with the tension of unspoken words. You provided directions, but each passing moment felt electric, charged with the possibility of something more.

As he pulled up to your house, you began to unbuckle your seatbelt, but he coughed awkwardly. “So—um, hear me out. I know your nose is broken, and my uncle and I can’t really afford—“

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled as you stepped out of his van, but the warmth in your chest lingered, reluctant to fade.

As you hurried up your sidewalk, a hand gripped your shoulder, halting you. “No, wait! I have to make this right at least!”

“It’s fine!”

“Let me… let me do something for you? Maybe like a meal or—or—“

“Like I said, it’s fine—“

“I’m not leaving until you accept my offering.” He stood firm, blocking your path with an earnest expression that made your heart flutter.

“Fine. Tomorrow, though.” You huffed, your tone playful yet firm. “I actually have to study for a test.”

Eddie's smile grew coy, a spark of excitement igniting in his stomach. “Tomorrow it is,” he said, unable to hide the thrill in his voice at the thought of spending more time with you.

As you bid him goodnight and turned to open the door, it swung open abruptly. Your sister stormed out, fury etched across her face. She grabbed your arm, pulling you inside.

“Thank you, but the next time you lay your hands on my sister—I will make sure half of your teeth go missing.”

Eddie stood frozen as she stomped back in and slammed the door in his face. You felt a mix of anger and embarrassment, the moment slipping through your fingers.

She turned to you, gripping your chin and inspecting your nose. “I guess Teddy lied; your nose looks fine.”

You rolled your eyes, wriggling out of her grasp. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to him, you know? He actually stood up for me.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Ugh, out of all the kids you could’ve gotten mixed in with, you just had to befriend the Munson one. From what the girls say, he’s just no good. So please, keep your distance.”

Groaning, you stormed to your room, flinging yourself onto the bed. Frustration bubbled within you, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing turned into full-on heaving, and as your gaze flicked to the TV in the corner, something ignited inside you. A burning, thrilling energy coursed through your veins, and in an instant, the screen erupted into flames.

[abyssruler]

i love how u write the delinquent childe esp in the 711 diaries… he is everything i could ever want if it isn’t too much trouble can u write a little drabble of him?? idm the content <3

7-eleven diaries spin-off

childe x gn!reader

fluff, comedy-ish, friends to lovers, getting together, childe basically being your sugar daddy

from my other fic the 7-eleven diaries with hints of delinquent childe sprinkled in, sort of a continuation on childe’s part and what could’ve happened if he’d been more persistent. ok so i rarely ever actually write requests bc i’m too lazy but you bet if you request anything for childe i will most likely do it. i just love writing him

Your friend Ajax is a little strange—scratch that, he’s a lot strange.

“So, as I was saying, my friends and I are hosting a party at my house, and I’d really like it if you came.”

His eyes bore into you, a sort of blue that mirrored the depths of the ocean. It’s no wonder he intimidates a lot of people, his eyes alone could scare anyone with thalassophobia. Luckily for you, you don’t have much fear of anything besides failing class, which is why you’d have to turn down his offer.

“Can’t. I’ve got a test tomorrow.” You pick up a soda that’s frankly worth more than your entire week’s worth of allowance and scan it.

Ajax leans on the counter, blinking his eyes up at you in what he probably thought was cute, but really only managed in giving you the ick. “Aw, c’mon. Pretty please?”

“I’m charging you extra if you don’t stop bugging me.”

He sighs dramatically, conceding with a pout. But the calculating look on his face tells you that you should be on your guard for the next few days.

✧

You were correct.

Your classmate Ajax is annoying.

He’d gone from being a slight bother in the 7-eleven you work at to somehow being enrolled in your university and coincidentally sharing all of your classes. Even the ones that don’t have anything to do with his major.

“Hey, let’s have lunch together after class!” He accosts you while you were in the middle of placing your things back in your bag. You were about to say no, citing an excuse about meeting with a friend or finishing some unfinished homework, but your attention was caught when he adds, “Don’t worry about the money, I’ll pay for our food.”

And so you find yourself sitting at a high end restaurant, staring at a menu that lists the cheapest food possible as the exact amount of your monthly salary. Ajax remains unbothered by the price, watching you with his elbows on the table and fingers interlocked, chin resting on top of his hands and waiting for you to pick which one you’d like.

Well, he did say he was paying so…

You order the ones you’d have never been able to afford and, for good measure, an expensive cup of ice cream that would normally cost ten mora at any convenience store. He doesn’t even flinch when the bill is presented, only smiling like he’s having the best day as he hands his card to the waiter.

He even drives you home that day with his fancy car that looks just a little too polished for you to mistake his intentions. He’s bragging and trying to impress you.

And, well, consider yourself impressed.

✧

Your boyfriend Ajax is crazy.

Not even the fun kind of crazy, no. This is beyond insane, a catastrophe, borderline harassment—

“I’d like to dedicate this song to my lovely sugarpie who deserves the world and more!”

He’s standing outside your classroom window, a guitar in hand while his friends hold a microphone to his mouth and a speaker that would make even your university’s auditorium speakers sound like a whisper. People are staring, students and professors alike pointing at him and then to you, a grin on their faces whilst some of the older professors look scandalized.

Ajax remains smiling, singing the cringiest song you’ve ever heard in your life with his off-tune voice. Not even Venti made you feel this much second hand embarrassment.

With one final wink and a kiss he blows in your direction, he ends the song.

You hate Valentine’s Day.

(At least the chocolates and flowers were good.)

[scarlettmacbeth]

The way you move ain't fair you know - Steddie Fanfic - AO3 - Stranger Things

Steve had enthusiastically told Robin about the successful date.

—So what happened next?

—I walked him home, we hugged each other again, and he went inside —Steve said, smiling.

—Wait... you didn't kiss him?

—Well... no —Steve confessed, blushing—. I do not want to put too much pressure on him; we will take things slowly.

Eddie came through the door and greeted them enthusiastically, as if the thought had summoned him. Robin couldn't help but notice that even as he addressed her, Eddie's eyes followed Steve's every movements. She gladly accepted the excuse to leave them alone when two more customers entered the store.

—I want to rent a tape —Eddie leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his palms on his cheeks as he said, crookedly grinning—. ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ .

—You have already seen that one —Steve said immediately.

Eddie looked at him puzzled.

—You rented it a month and half ago.

Eddie blushed as he bit his lip. Good memory , he murmured.

—What about you?

Steve raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

—Have you seen it?

Steve shook his head.

—Come watch it with me —Eddie said casually, scratching the back of his neck—. Tonight, at my place?

The exhilarating thought of going on another date with Eddie washed over Steve.

—Sure, I’ll be there.

He arrived on time and brought beers. The trailer was messy, but there was an obvious effort to conceal the wrinkled clothes under the bed and the dirty dishes in the sink. Processed food cans and packages piled high in a couple of trash bags in the kitchen corner. The movie was set to start, the couch was cleared, and snacks were placed on the table. When Eddie walked past him, Steve felt the freshness of his recently washed hair, and his stomach muscles twitched. He had visited Eddie's place before, but they had never gone there by themselves, let alone on a date.

On the screen, Nancy found Tina's diary and began to read about her nightmares. In the meantime, Steve had settled into a cozy stance with his head resting on Eddie's shoulder and his legs propped up on the couch, while six beer cans were scattered across the floor. Eddie's jacket still carried the lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana smoke, and his long hair exuded the scent of lavender shampoo. Steve reasoned that the fragrances themselves had little to do with the strange calm and thrilling ecstasy he was feeling at that very moment, and that the boy wearing them was much more responsible. He wished he could smell his skin directly, feel it beneath his fingers, and use his lips and tongue to commit the shape and texture of his tattoos to memory. Eddie eventually relaxed, his feet on the coffee table and his arm stretched out on the back of the chair, after being taken aback by his sudden closeness. When Steve approached, resting his cheek on his chest, Eddie sighed contentedly and allowed himself to play with the strands of hair that felt so close to his face, pure softness and perfume. He had often fantasized about using his fingers to tousle that flawless mane. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath; upon opening them, Glen dozed off, making him a prime target for Freddy. 

—You totally look like Johnny Depp —Eddie blurted out.

���What? —Steve said—. I do not.

—Of course you do, the typical movie heartthrob —Eddie answered softly—. You should wear crop tops sometime.

Steve looked up at him, their gazes locking. He laughed softly, a calm laugh that brought back memories of breezy summer nights. Eddie was astounded by its warmth, feeling it ascend within him and land on his chest. His heart skipped a beat, and the hand that had become entangled in Steve's hair trembled slightly. What was this bond that held them together in the middle of the night, an inexplicable electricity in the air? It did not need to be explained. Their friendship had begun with terror, suffering, and loss and had since blossomed into something lovely and delightful. Eddie enjoyed the sensation of tension created by Steve's hand resting on his thigh, only hindered by his jeans' fabric. How could he not see that I am all red and sweaty? He can not help but notice the effect he has on me . It was the paradox of the innocent villain, who causes harm by accident; his tender gazes and adorable dimples stabbed like darts into Eddie's soul, drowning in the shivers of that sweet torture. The more Steve gave him, the more his insatiable heart demanded; he knew that if he kept pulling on that string, it would eventually snap, and he was ready to fall with the end in his grasp. The certainty of his impending fall caused his veins to swell with vertigo.

Upon rising from the couch, Steve faltered; he had glanced at his watch and conceded, with resignation, that it was time to leave. Eddie guided him to the door and gave a little start when he felt Steve's lips lightly touch his cheek.

—Good night, Eddie —he smiled as he left—. I had a fantastic time, next time is on me.

With his fingers still firmly planted on his cheek, Eddie gave a forceful nod, as though he wanted to trap Steve's runaway kiss there.

***

Read the complete fanfic on AO3:

Eddie has been crushing on Steve for some time, but accepted the fact that his love is unrequited. When Steve asks him out on a date, Eddie agrees, believing it to be purely platonic, just a friends' thing. It takes him three dates and two kisses to come to the conclusion that he is in fact dating Steve Harrington.

[fizzyginfizz]

Someone's Mum

For @hinnymicrofic -Day 20 "Mom"

The poster unfurled, a Quidditch star winked with sass and smile

“Lucky him,” they’d say in passing

She never cared what they said

But Albus was two and he didn’t speak

“Are you miserable?” Words raw, a fear hidden, only uttered under the blanket of night.

“No,” she dared whisper, a confession in the dark. “When I’m there, I’m thinking about here. When I’m here, I’m thinking about there. Not miserable… mediocre. I never half-arsed anything that mattered and now I’m mediocre.”

Her fingers sought his, tangled in sheets.

“I catch a Quaffle and I miss the boys and I miss the hoop and I’m not crushed because my dream has become just another day with another Quaffle and another hoop and another number on another board and I miss miss miss when it mattered.”

Who was she without it?

Someone’s mum

James turned the page

another and another and another

“Again!”

another and another and another

“And down once more, but not so fast- “ *

Her shoulder needed to be iced

“They’re on their way to bed at last- “

How many times did they have to hear this story?

“The day is done they say goodnight- “

How many times would they want to?

“And somebody turns off the light- “

How many nights until they were too old

and she would

miss miss miss when it mattered

“The moon is high- “

Albus was two and still didn’t speak

“The sea is deep- “

Thumb in mouth, his green eyes followed her finger tracing the words

“They rock- “

James nestled closer, elbow jabbing the Bludger-sized bruise on her hip

“And rock- “

It hurt

Her finger trembled as it traced

“And rock- “

Albus, two, not talking, lifted enormous green eyes to hers

“To sleep- “

Green eyes that spoke sonnets

His Mum

He grinned

She was the center of his world

“What can I do?” Never one for words, he had long ago learned to ask. “What can I say?”

Sheets rustled as their fingers laced.

“What will you see, Harry?” She muttered. “I know what everyone else will see and I’ll pretend it won’t matter. But what will you see when you look at me?”

He rolled on top of her, cupping her face between his hands.

“The woman who bat-bogeys reporters and fought in a war and loves so fiercely her heart swells and splits and bleeds.”

Soft kisses to chin, cheek, eyelid.

“The effortlessly funny companion who can commentate two snails crossing the porch and have us all cheering the one with the hilariously tragic backstory.”

He lowered his forehead to hers.

“The girl who wrote in the diary who married the boy who slept in a cupboard. Neither of them have anything to prove, Gin.”

A tear escaped, rolling into her hairline.

“A Mum?”

She dared to whisper, a confession in the dark.

Irrelevant to the world

The world to three

“I’ll see you, Ginny. And I will love you until my last breath.”

The day was done, the edges curled

The Quidditch star winked as the poster furled

*Excerpt from “The Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton

[greenerteacups]

Hi! I am an ardent fan of your writing, and I hope to be as sorted and planned as you some day in my own writing journey.

My question is: you have a keen eye when it comes to planning character personality, dynamics, and such. I've also been wading through your ask replies, and your insights into how you write people and how you make them play off of each other is so wonderful to read. If it's not too personal a q, how did you learn how to write like this? Did you go to school for writing, does it come from years of observing people, do you have reading list recs for "how to write real people and real interactions"?

Thanks! This is a really flattering question. I'll try to answer it honestly, because I wish someone had been brutally honest about this with me when I was a young writer.

I didn't go to school for writing. I started doing it when I was about nine years old. It sucked very badly. I kept writing throughout high school, and it still mostly sucked, but some of it was occasionally interesting. ("Interesting" here does not mean "good," by the way.) I took a break in college, and then came back. I've been writing ever since. Sometimes, I feel good about it. A lot of the time, I don't!

I hate giving this advice, because I remember how it feels to get it, and it's the most uninspiring, boring-ass, dog shit advice you can get, but it's also the only advice that is 100% unequivocally true: you have to write, and specifically, you have to write things that suck.

I do not mean that you should make things that suck on purpose. I mean that you have to sit down and try your absolute hardest to make something good. You have to put in the hours, the elbow grease, the blood, sweat, and tears, and then you have to read it over and accept that it just totally sucks. There is no way around this, and you should be wary of people who tell you there is. There is no trick, no rule, no book you can buy or article you can read, that will make your writing not suck. The best someone else can do is tell you what good writing looks like, and chances are, you knew that anyway — after all, you love to read. You wouldn't be trying to do this if you didn't. And anyone who says they can teach you to write so good it doesn't suck at first is either lying to you, or they have forgotten how they learned to write in the first place.

So the trick is to sit there in the miserable doldrums of Suck, write a ton, and learn to like it. Because this is the phase of your path as an artist when you find what it is you love about writing, and it cannot be the chance to make "good writing." This will be the thing that bears you through and compels you to keep going when your writing is shit, i.e., the very thing that makes you a writer in the first place. So find that, and you've got a good start.

Some people know this, but assume that perseverance as a writer is about trying to get to the point where you don't suck anymore. This is not true, and it is an actively dangerous lie to tell young writers. You are not aiming to feel like your writing doesn't suck. You are aiming to write. You are aiming to have written. Everything else is dust and rust. And of course, you'll find things you like about your pieces, you'll find things you're proud of, you'll learn to love the things you've made. But that little itch of self-criticism, in the back of your brain — the one that cringes when you read a clunky line, or thinks of a better character beat right after it's far too late to change — that's never going away. That's the Writer part of you. Read Kafka, read Dickens, read Tolstoy, you will find diary entries where they lament how absolutely fucking atrocious their writing was, and how angry they are that they can't do better. A good writer hates their sentences because they can always imagine better ones. And the ability to imagine a better sentence is what's going to make you pick up the pen again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Which is what I mean, and probably what all those other annoying, preachy advice-givers mean, when we say: a good writer is just someone who writes every day. It's that easy, and that hard.

[letmesleep8]

even if I die screaming // elliexreader

CHAPTER 4: There's an ocean in Nebraska

AO3 | chapter 3 | chapter 5

content warnings/tags: subtle homophobia, mentions of alcohol/being drunk, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor

notes: oh my, look who it is! i know it took me quite a while to post this. sorry, i was in a depression. but anyways, here is the chapter! i promise I'll try to post the next one soon this time. have a great evening! or morning. or anything.

tag list: @h4-rt3s @sallythatgurl-64 @pinkinternetfire @lorelaihehe (sorry if i tag you without you asking or something, unless you're lorelai, that was on purpose :3)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"I hate it here so I will go to lunar valleys in my mind

When they found a better planet, only the gentle survived"

— I Hate It Here, Taylor Swift

January 23, 2039 Winter

Dear diary, 

Today was strange. I came home from the get-together and ate the whole rest of the cake I made. My head hurts and I feel like my fingers smell like Ellie. I can still feel her phantom touch in my face whenever I close my eyes for too long.

Mom’s drunk, she's already completely asleep in her bedroom. I locked myself up in mine, I’m afraid she’ll smell the weed. I feel bad, guilty. I can’t sleep. I am a terrible daughter and I deserve nothing she’s ever fought to give me. I am a disappointment and I promise I won’t do anything like this ever ag- 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

I heard a noise on my window, I first thought it was maybe a bird. One more time, I heard something hitting the frame. I got up to check and got scared by the pebble that almost hit my face. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Ellie looked worried and embarrassed. I simply laughed.

“What are you doing here? It’s, like, four a.m”, I sat on the frame. “You should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She swallowed, nervously. “ Y’wanna go for a walk?” I unknowingly held my breath and bit my bottom lip to the blood. If Mama wakes up and doesn’t see me in bed she would be so worried, but at the same time, I couldn’t pretend like living under her subtle rules wasn’t killing me slowly. 

“Help me get out.” I said and Ellie smirked, giving me her hand. I jumped off the frame and tripped a little. “Where are you taking me?” I started following her down to the trees. 

“Just follow, I promise you’ll like it.” She smiled and so did I. Just then I realized she hasn’t let go of my hand since I jumped out of the window. In fact, she squeezed it from time to  time. 

I went with her up to a small clearing across the creek, we had hung out around there before. The difference is that now there was a blanket on the floor with what seemed to be a telescope on top.

“What is this?” I sat, smiling. “Where’d you get this thing?”

“Oh, this old thing? Joel found it and gave it to me when I was, like, fifteen.” She sat down by my side. “I just remembered it, y’know, when you started tracing the stars on my back and shit…” 

I felt my cheeks getting completely flustered, so I hid my face between my hands. “I am so sorry about that, it was embarrassing as hell.” I sighed and chuckled, throwing my head back.

“It’s not embarrassing, you were just high”, Ellie laughed. “T’was sweet.” Her cheeks started becoming rosy too. I laid back on the blanket. “Hey, c’mere. Let’s check this thing out.” I  scooted closer to her, looking into the telescope and then giving her some space to look too, her shoulder brushing against mine. “Damn, the sky’s always so pretty in Wyoming. It was always smokey back in Boston.” She said, looking amazed. 

“You’re from Boston? “ I asked.

“Born and raised.” She replied.  “You?”

“Nebraska. Never traveled that far.” I chuckled. “Have you ever seen the ocean? “

“ Yeah, sure! Wait… Haven’t you?” I shook my head, she looked surprised.

“Yeah…” I laughed. “Nebraska isn’t really beachy, y’know?”

She laughed, elbowing me softly. “Well, then we gotta take you somewhere that is! Where’d you like to go, miss?” 

I smiled. It was fun pretending like we weren’t trapped here forever sometimes. “Well, I think California must be nice, you know? Maybe Florida. Just don’t think we could get there by horse.” 

She laid back on the blanket, arms above her head, and sighed. “Man, I wish it was easier to find a car that actually works. I could drive ya there, you’d see the beach.” 

I watched as she laid there, the skin under her slightly open flannel chilled by the breeze. I wondered if her chest was freckled too, where did her spots end? I didn’t even realize I was staring, when something slipped my mouth. “Well, actually-” I stopped myself, but it was kinda late, she seemed interested and I couldn’t leave those forest eyes guessing. “My mom, she keeps a car battery hidden. But it’s for desperate situations, a safe way out. But don’t tell anyone I said that!”

Ellie’s hand reached for my nose, booping me like a cat. “Relax, spacegirl. Your secret’s safe with me.” She laughed and I laid on the blanket too. 

The sky was a deep blue, the stars like snowflakes. I thought I saw a beam of light or something, maybe thunder, but soon I realized: it was a shooting star. “Ellie, quick, make a wish!” I closed my eyes. “Aw shit, okay.” She closed hers too, smiling. 

“I wished for my mom to find me new records.” I smiled, “what did you wish for, Els?”

She blushed in the slightest, looking away. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to make one.”

“You’re just lying now.” I laughed. “Come on, you can tell. What would you like right now? A car? A camera? A puppy?” 

I felt her eyes analyzing every single inch of my face and her lips parting, almost involuntarily. “I wish you liked girls.” I felt my heart dropping to my feet, my throat went dry, I stayed silent. She sat up immediately, I did the same. She started putting the telescope away, getting ready to leave. 

“Wait, Ellie, don’t-” I touched her shoulder. “I… don’t like boys, I- Girls… I’ve never tried.” 

I could see her face light back up but she was trying to keep it nonchalant. “Do… you want to?” I swallowed and breathed in deeply as I simply nodded in response. Her face went straight up red, it looked like fire. I think I may have caught her by surprise. 

The girl took her left hand towards my face, tucking away a strand of hair behind my ear. I was almost panting as she got closer to me, our noses touching. My eyes went to her lips, chapped but pink, burnt from the cold. She exhaled into mine as she finally locked them in, her hand now on the side of my neck. Almost as if programmed to, I opened them up for her.

Her mouth was heavenly, her tongue felt like a warm treat. So I kissed her, I kissed like I longed for it for ages, I kissed her like a movie, I kissed her like everyone could watch. I took my hand to her neck, hers climbed its way up to my hair, holding onto it like I’d run away. But I would never, I wish we would stay like this until the end of times. 

Quickly, the simple kiss had turned hungry. I felt like she was going to eat me whole, devour me like a beast and, truthfully, I didn’t even mind, I waited for it, too. I wished for her body so bad that I wouldn’t even mind becoming part of it. It felt like an out-of-body experience how she held me like I was always hers. 

Until I heard a voice coming from beyond the creek. “Els, sorry for interrupting but she should come with me. Quick.” It was Dina, she seemed worried. I followed her, she told Ellie to not come along. 

When we went back to town near my house, I could hear my mom talking to Mike. “Just- gone! I just woke up and she wasn’t there.” Dina stepped closer, “found her!” She smiled, not really knowing what to say. 

Mama took into a tight hug. “Oh my God, you scared me so much!” I could smell the worry in her, or maybe it was just the alcohol. Didn’t take long for her to switch and slightly shake me. “Where the hell were you!?” I froze. 

“I- I was just stargazing, with Dina, you were asleep-” I didn’t have a clue what to say, I am a terrible liar. Always been. 

“Don’t you lie to me! Where were you?!” Her voice became angrier. “You were with that girl again, weren’t you? Joel 's girl? I told you to stay away from her!”

“No, mom, I wasn’t with Ellie, I swear.” My lip was trembling. “I just went for a walk! I thought you were asleep…” 

“Go home. Right now. Go.” She looked so disappointed. My eyes filled with water, I had never seen her like that. Mike tried waving goodbye to me but I was so  distraught that I didn’t even pay attention. I just went straight back home and cried in my room for the rest of the night, sitting on the windowsill. I felt unworthy.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Winter Diaries

Summary: The boys have some fun with the first snowfall of winter

Rating: G

Genre: Canon Era, Friendship, Team Bonding, Minor Bobby/Don, Fluff, Slice of Life, One Shot

Words: 924

A/N: for @b00ks1ut who helped create this every step of the way!! <33

-

AO3

or

When winter hits Seattle, it comes with the force of a thousand winds. Overnight, the campus is covered in snow and not a speck of ground is untouched.

While the blizzard lessens come morning, fat flakes continue to fall and the damp cold is enough to cancel practice. However, nine boys are too riled up to stay inside, the first snowfall igniting their fondest childhood memories.

Dressed in threadbare sweaters, mittens with holes, they jump out into the snow, filling the muffled air with song and laughter. Who starts the snowball fight nobody knows, but soon everyone has a healthy helping of snow covering them.

Don laughs, shakes out the snow from his hair while Chuck tackles Johnny into a deep bank. A few of the boys come to a pause to point and cheer and Don’s eyes drift from one teammate to the next.

The joy is beautiful, their cares far away, a picturesque moment amongst the days of stress.

When Don’s gaze lands on Bobby, his breath catches in his throat. Bobby’s smile takes up his entire face, the snow in his hair a stark contrast to his dark locks. Flakes cling to his eyelashes and his cheeks are red from the cold. If only Don could reach out and tug Bobby closer by his scarf.

A playful shove from Shorty breaks Don’s staring and the snowball forgotten in his hand ends up in Shorty’s face.

The scene turns to chaos, boys pulling one another, trying to shove snow down their sweaters. Don’s foot slips on ice and his arm flies out for balance, stomach dropping at the sudden fall. He ends up on his back regardless, but what or rather who he’s grabbed onto lands on top of him.

Time slows and Don is caught in Bobby’s teasing grin. His body is a comforting weight on top of him, but before Don can wrap his arms around Bobby, shouts fill his ears.

With a quick glance around, Bobby bites his lip then leans down to give Don a small kiss. He’s back on his feet before Don can say a thing, already making a snowball to throw at Joe.

His aim is true and Joe charges. Don props himself up on his elbows to watch everyone, content to let them carry on without him. Jim is sprawled out on his stomach and Roger helps Gordy free himself from a knee-high snowbank.

Like a squirrel, Bobby has climbed up a light pole, out of Joe’s reach and Joe, thinking better of the situation, stares up at Bobby with his hands on his hips.

Don can’t help the laughter that leaves him. Bobby’s proud smile spreads to his heart, their eyes locking for more than a few tender seconds. Then, Bobby slips and his only soft landing is Joe. Don scrambles over to help the two, worried of Joe’s wrath only to find he has nothing to fear.

Joe keeps Bobby pinned to his chest as Bobby tries to wiggle free, the two caught in overewhelming laughter. At last Bobby wrenches away and he hides behind Don while Joe gets to his feet.

“I’ll get you next time, Moch,” Joe teases before sliding over to Shorty.

For a moment, Bobby and Don stay this way, Bobby’s hands on Don’s hips, Don pressing back into Bobby’s frame. The other boys are too caught up in each other to notice the two and Don lets his blush warm his face.

After a few more playful scuffles, it’s then Johnny insists they get inside for a hot drink and everyone is quick to agree. In the communal kitchen, Chuck prepares his mother’s signature recipe for hot chocolate but not without help from each and every boy.

Soon, everyone has a steaming mug in their hand, the hot chocolate topped with plenty of marshmallows. Don takes a sip, but something isn’t right.

“Not sweet enough?” Bobby asks.

Of course he’s noticed Don’s concern and he takes a gulp from his own mug as if to confirm Don’s hesitation.

Don counts the marshmallows in his cup and frowns at the uneven seven that sit at the top. A few pairs of eyes watch him as he takes a single marshmallow and adds it to his cup, but no one jumps to ask.

With another sip, Don smiles, nods. Everyone stares at him and Don shrugs.

“Doesn’t taste right unless there’s eight marshmallows,” Don says as if the answer is obvious.

This gets him blinks, a few chuckles and everyone goes back to their business. Everyone except Bobby.

“Let me taste,” Bobby motions for Don’s mug.

Don offers it without complaint and Bobby tries Don’s hot chocolate and then his own.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby grins. “Looks like you’re onto something, Donny.”

Matching Bobby’s grin, Don grabs an extra marshmallow for Bobby and plops it in his cup before taking back his own. It’s not just happiness that shines on Bobby’s face, but something so much more than that. Devotion, love, no words could come close to describing the beauty Don gets to see every day.

In their own little corner, watching the rest of the room, Bobby presses closer to Don. His bravery lets him rest his head on Don’s shoulder and Don melts into the touch, thankful for the little moments like this.

The season is sure to get colder, but Don knows he won’t feel a single bit of it. Not with Bobby—not with his boys—to warm him every step of the way.

[theshamelesssimp]

Caroline as a Wolf then Hybrid WIP!

Disclaimer: It has been been over five years since I have watched The Vampire Diaries and I haven't even seen The Originals so if I get things wrong or these characters seem OOC I'm sorry, I'm a master procrastinator and I only rewatched the first episode and a half of The Vampire Diaries a little under a month ago. So don't hold your expectations too high now. This is just a draft, it isn't completed, I am planning on it being longer than this since I want to get her first transformation, cute little moments with her and Klaus as wolves, etc., in this so, yeah. Also, i was going to post this draft sooner but it was so helpfully deleted so I had to remember what wrote from before.

Caroline walked out of the Grill, eyes focused on her phone as she made her way to her car. She sent a text to every cheerleader reminding them that they had practice after school on Monday and to let her know in advance if the couldn't make it. She hated making last minute changes to her plans, after all.

As she pressed send on the text she felt a hand grab her elbow and pull her into an an alleyway. She blinked, slightly disoriented and focused on the man in front of her. He was wearing a hoodie so she couldn't see his face all that well and he was a couple of inches taller than her with his build being on the bigger side.

He glared at her as he still held her by her arm. "Give me your money."

Caroline gave him a nasty look before scoffing and rolling her eyes. "I don't think so."

She shook off his arm and started heading towards the entrance of the alleyway just for him to grab her again, only this time he slammed her back into the wall. Caroline groaned at the pain she felt and open her mouth to snark at him but stopped herself when she felt something sharp press against her neck.

The man glared at her harsher this time. "I said give me your money."

Caroline hesitantly looked down and froze in fear when she saw the blade of a pocket knife press against her throat. Out of instinct, she quickly pushed him back with a strength she never knew she had and witnessed him stumble back and trip on his own feet. Time slowed down as she saw him fall back and hit his head on the dumpster with sickening crack.

Seconds have passed as her breath grew shaky and her hands became sweaty, staring wide eyed at the man who's eyes had become glossed over. She didn't see him move and ran over to him, kneeling down to put two fingers on his pulse, desperate to find it still beating. "No, no, no, please..." She begged.

When she felt nothing she removed her hand from his neck and it flew up to her face to cover her mouth as she let out a small gasp, tears blurring her vision when she realized that she just killed someone. Her breathing grew heavier and she frantically got up before looking around to see if anyone saw her.

Caroline found herself panicking, making stressed sounds and pacing around with her hands in her hair.

This couldn't be happening, what was she supposed to do? What if someone sees her? Why did this happen to her?

She had tears streaming down her face as she brought her trembling hands down and scrolling through the contacts on her phone before pushing on her mother's number.

She held the phone up to her ear, shaking as it went to voice mail and trying again. "C'mon, please answer the phone."

By the third call she heard it go through and the voice of her mother answered.

The latter sighing before talking, unaware of the predicament her daughter was in. "Caroline, you know not to call me when I'm on duty."

Caroline whimpered into the phone before she started weeping, her voice small as she spoke. "Mommy..."

The Sheriff froze before straightening her back and hardening her eyes. "Caroline, what's wrong."

"I–I didn't mean too, I–I promise. He j–just came out o–of nowhere and h–he..." She swallowed, looking at the dead body before snapping her eyes shut, her tone fearful as she continued. "He pulled m–me into the a–alleyway beside the Grill and h–held a knife to my throat and I–I panicked, I didn't know this w–would happen." She rambled unsteadily. "Please don't be mad a–at me."

Liz attempted to calm her daughter. "It's okay, Caroline." Liz gripped her phone tightly. "I'll be right there so stay where you are."

I'll probably post this here and on AO3 if I finish it so...yeah. I don't mind constructive criticism if you want to give that, just don't be rude about it.

[hanzajesthanza]

something positive about the witcher 4 trailer that i’ve not seen anyone mention, maybe because it’s cdpr so it’s already to be expected that the visual design will be peak…

and maybe because i need an eyewash station after all that netflix has thrown at us…

but it felt great to see new witcher visuals with very present slavic design and motifs, the peasant girl’s dress and her crown, the atmosphere and setting.

again, maybe the bar is low because of netflix, this is just cdpr doing what they did great in witcher 3, but it’s satisfying to see the witcher retain a strong visual style and identity :p obviously they would be insane to change directions now, but it’s also not guaranteed (witcher 2 famously being more generic fantasy inspired, design-wise)

i’m just happy i finally got the “oooh, witcher” feeling when i saw it, which hasn’t happened in a while i guess

like doesn’t this look so gooood

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

It's the Perfect Time of Year (Somewhere Far Away from Here)

Fandom: Uncharted 4 word count: 6,705 Whumpee: Nathan Drake Whump tropes: grief, bar fight, beaten, choked, knocked out, caretaking

Read on Ao3

~~~

It’d been a rough few months, there was really no other way to say it. 

After the loss of his brother, it was like Nate lost the ability to care about himself. He poured everything into the search for Sir Drake, reading books and diaries day in and day out until he found something that pointed to a physical location that he could go investigate. Some days when he would get lost in his books it was like he would forget he had a body at all, only remembering to eat or drink when Sully placed something in front of him. He would fuss over having food or drink placed near some of the books and maps, worried that Sully would soil some of them with crumbs or water rings. At first Sullivan took offence that Nate would think he would ever be so careless, but whatever got his attention and brought him back to the present, even if it was only for a short time. 

Sully didn't usually hang around between calls from Nate, he'd be there whenever Nate needed him to be, and he did have other stuff he could be doing when he wasn't flying the kid around the globe. But after Sam, and then after Rafe… Nate didn't ask him to stay, but he didn't send him away either. And Sully wasn't about to ask first, knowing if he did Nate would insist he was fine even though he clearly wasn't. He could see the ever growing list of leads, but Nate never set a plan in motion to go after them yet. Was the thought of all that time to be undistracted during travel time daunting? Afraid if he didn’t have his mind distracted by books and maps he would fall headlong into the grief?

So they stayed put, and as long as Nate wasn't telling him to leave, Sully found stuff to do nearby. He found himself taking on the role of house-keeper, not that it got particularly messy since Nate rarely left the room he had claimed as his study in their tiny rental house near the beach, but if Sullivan didn’t sort through the mail every so often it would’ve been ignored until the lights went out and the water stopped dripping from the tap, not that it was super reliable even when the bills were paid on time. He kept the kid fed, nudged him to sleep when he would yawn so hard his jaw looked like it would unhinge, and not so graciously sent him to the shower when he started to stink to high heaven. 

Sully felt triumphant when he finally convinced Nate to leave his books, just for an evening, to stretch his legs and think about something else for a little while, to sit in the company of people other than Sully. Begrudgingly, Nate slumped in the passenger seat of the Jeep, his elbow braced on the window frame as he stared out at the greenery whipping past. He mindlessly rubbed his chin with his thumb and didn’t say a word the entire drive. Sully glanced over at him, getting the gist that Nate wouldn’t be that much of a conversationalist quite yet this evening before he flicked on the radio, upbeat Spanish music poured from the tinny speakers of the old Jeep and he tapped along to the rhythm on the steering wheel.  

Two songs later they were pulling up to the ramshackle building that was the local bar. The faded sign posted above the door depicted a caricature of a chicken with a comically large cigar clenched in its tooth lined beak. In the weeks they had been in town, Nate had never been there but Sully was a frequent visitor, on the nights he didn’t want to cook anything or was tired of being cooped up in the house and needed a buzz. Nate eyed the area sceptically, and the locals leaning against the railing of the roofed front porch eyed him back. 

“Evening, amigos!” Sully called to them, relighting his cigar as he swept past them. Several of the guys grunted a half-assed greeting or nodded in Sully’s direction, familiar with his presence, but kept their sights on Nate as he followed behind the older man. 

Sully shoved the front door open, holding it just long enough for Nate to catch it on the way in. Eduardo was in his usual spot behind the bar, pouring a line of drinks for the gaggle of people leaning on the bar already. He glanced up as the door slammed shut, his eyes lighting up with a grin as Sully snagged a pair of stools near the end of the bar. 

“Sully!!” the bartender yelled jovially. “What’s good?”

“Everything, Eduardo, look who I finally convinced to join me!” Sully jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in Nate's direction.

“Ah, is this the fabled Mr. Drake?!”

“The one and only,” Sully exclaimed, cringing as the wording hit him too late. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nate’s lips twist into a frown. He flopped onto the stool next to Sully and crossed his arms on the bar. “My usual, Eddie, make it two.”

“You got it,” Eduardo gave a thumbs up and wandered off to the other end of the bar, grabbing a couple of glasses off of the bar mat as he went.

Sully leaned towards Nate, bumping their shoulders together. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I get it.” Nate shrugged, looking around at the decor of the bar. It was cleaner inside than the rundown exterior led one to expect. “It’s just a phrase.”

Sully nodded sadly, watching Nate as he looked pretty much everywhere except at another human in the bar at that moment. Neon lights that advertised various alcoholic drinks hanging on the wall above them cast his skin in a blue tinge and the blue-ish colour of his eyes appeared almost black. 

Sully saw when his eyes caught on something on the wall across the room and followed his gaze over the gaggle of other patrons to see what captured his attention. A large framed picture hung as a focal point above the pool table, surrounded by smaller framed photos of a variety of people, the backgrounds of many of them showed the ambience of the very bar they were hung in, heads tilted in laughter, glasses raised in salute. A viewer couldn’t help but smile at the joy that poured out of those photos. The large photo in the middle of it all showed two men, each with an arm wrapped around the other and clinking together tall glasses of frothy beer with the caricature of the cigar smoking chicken from the faded sign outside emblazoned on the glasses. The eyes of the man on the right were crinkled shut, his smile wide and you could almost hear the laughter he must have been emitting as the photo was snapped, the man on the left had a mischievous glint in his eyes and a barely controlled smirk moments from erupting into laughter as well. 

Sully smiled sadly at it, remembering the history behind the photo that Eduardo had told him just a couple weeks before.

“That’s Eduardo and his brother. They opened this bar together nearly twenty years ago.”

Nate's eyes flicked between the photo and Eduardo pouring drinks at the other end of the bar, vaguely nodding as he recognized the resemblance between the man and the younger version in the photo. He was the one on the right, captured in laughter.

Eduardo swept back towards them with their drinks, setting the glasses down with a satisfying thump on the solid wood bartop, rubbed smooth by decades of glassware and elbows sliding across it. He snatched a wooden bowl from further down the bar, one of several scattered around and plopped it between them, offering a selection of salted nuts. He glanced between the two men, measuring the mood between them until he saw Nate still vacantly staring at the framed photo.

“Ah, another patron captivated by my brother's charm?” Eduardo grinned, almost as wide as the photo, his eyes crinkling into a now familiar pattern of crows feet caused by decades of laughter. “Ignacio had that charm around him, he drew people's attention effortlessly.”

Nate focused on Eduardo and swallowed hard before speaking. “Had?”

“Fifteen years he’s been gone now,” he said with a smile, “I miss him every day, more than anything, but I cherish every memory I had with him.” Eduardo leaned his hip against the lower service side of the bar, folding thick arms across his broad chest as he gazed fondly at the photo. “I was the kid brother who annoyed him whenever he wasn’t working, and sometimes he had to travel far for his work and I wouldn’t see him for months, but he always came back for me.”

He shoved off from the counter, excitedly digging into the pocket of his black linen pants he produced a flat bottle opener. The scuffed red colour of the metal was only visible in small areas, the edges of the material worn and shiny down to the bare metal all the way around the rounded rectangle. He flipped it around lovingly in his hands. “He got me this when he went to Colombia when I was sixteen. He had so many stories of the places he saw, people he met. When we opened this bar he promised he would take me there, but he got sick before we could become even slightly financially stable with this bar.”

Sully glanced between Eduardo and Nate, worried how these stories might affect Nate’s already fragile grief. Nate seemed to be stuck, his head absentmindedly bobbing and his eyes glazed over, as though he were operating on autopilot and only half listening. Eduardo also seemed to have drifted off into his thoughts, smiling softly at the bottle opener in his hands. 

Sully cleared his throat. “Well, I hope you can make it there yourself someday, beautiful country, coffee’s great. Say, what is Isabella cooking up back in there, it smells amazing.”

Eduardo shook himself from his reverie and slipped the bottle opener back into his pocket and stood up straight. “Oh Sully, you’re going to love it, I’ll grab you a couple bowls right now!”

When he disappeared into the kitchen, Sully turned to Nate. “You okay still?”

Nate didn’t say anything, merely shrugged one shoulder and stared at the bowl of nuts in front of him. Sully put his hand on Nate's shoulder, squeezing tightly a couple times. 

“It’s hard, kid. I know it’s hard, but look at Eduardo. It’s a heavy weight to bear right now but it’ll get easier. It just takes time.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Nate’s face. He couldn’t see it yet and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“We-” Nate’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before trying again. “We never really had any pictures of the two of us. Not since we were kids. I can remember seeing some when I was really young but we didn’t really have much with us when we went to the orphanage, let alone pictures. And if mom had any, they didn’t end up with her books.”

Sully nodded sadly, looking down at the countertop. He had boxes of old photographs in storage back home, his mother had taken photos of everything, even the kittens that had been born to a stray cat under their back porch when he was barely 3 years old, so there were boxes of albums and even more shoeboxes of loose photos. Photos that were deemed precious enough to pass on, full of faces he didn’t even know the names of from when his mother was young, before his time. She had treasured them, and he kept them safe even if he didn’t necessarily understand the context of many of them. 

There were albums full of family vacation photos, from when they had packed themselves into his dads Studebaker Coupe and travelled through the southern states during the summer. Albums full of school photos, from the home shorn bowl cut in grade 2 all the way through to the regrettable mullet and barely there moustache he wore with pride in highschool. At the time he didn’t get it, he didn’t know why his mother insisted on taking photos at what seemed like every little moment and carefully preserving them in her albums.

He gets it now. 

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Nathan picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid around, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass and shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

Sully picked up his glass and tipped the rim towards Nate’s. “To Sam.”

Nate swallowed hard but lifted his drink to clink against Sully’s. “To Sam,” he echoed. Together they thumped their glasses against the bartop and took a drink. It was the first drink Nate had had in weeks and he grimaced at the burn down his throat. “Awful stuff. He would’ve loved it though.”

“He had better taste than you, that's for sure,” Sully said with a chuckle, pleased to see a half hearted grin on Nate’s face.

“He would whip us both at pool too, but I think I could take you.” Nate said, tilting his head to gesture at the pool tables with his chin.

“I’ll take that bet. After we eat though, I play better with a full stomach. Isabella’s food is going to knock your socks off!” Sully shot back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass onto the counter before sliding off the side of his stool. “I’m going to hit the head while we’re waiting.”

He headed off towards the washroom at the back of the room, stepping past the big group of people gathered around the bar. A woman with long dark brown hair sat on a stool with her back against the edge of the bartop, gracefully holding the rim of a stemless wine glass between two fingers, her eyes following as he walked passed. Sully tilted his head towards her with a smile as they made eye contact. Next to her stood a big guy, leaning against the bar and draping his arm across her shoulders, pressing himself into her space and laughing obnoxiously at whatever his buddy next to him had just said. When he saw Sully smiling at the woman, his expression changed to fury.

“Keep walking, old man.” He growled and he pulled his arm closer to her neck possessively.

Sully gave a half assed salute and nodded, carrying on his way around the corner and down the narrow hallway. 

As he finished up his business in the washroom he heard loud voices from the front room, opening the door he paused to listen as the voices carried down the hallway.

“I said, are you looking at my girl?” Sully recognized the voice of the big guy with the girl under his arm at the bar.

“No?” That was Nate, sounding confused. “I wasn’t looking at her, I was look–”

“Oh, so you think she’s ugly then, is that it?”

Sully started down the hallway as Nate sounded even more bewildered. “No, she’s very pretty, but I wasn’t–”

“Oh, so you were looking at her, huh?” 

Sully made it around the corner just as the guy shoved off the counter, stalking towards Nate, who was leaning back with his hands raised slightly in front of him.

“Look man, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have come here.”

Before Nate could react, the big guy swung at him with a hard right hook across the jaw, knocking him off of the stool and he hit the ground hard. The big guy stalked forward, towering over Nate as he scrambled on the floor, managing to grab the leg of the stool as he pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps back, wielding the stool like a weapon to defend himself. 

“Hey, leave him alone!” Sully called out and he pushed through the group, trying to get to Nate.

“Sit down, old man.” 

Someone behind Sully slammed their hands into his shoulders, causing him to stumble and he fell forward, catching the edge of the countertop just below his ribs and all the air was forced out of his lungs. He slumped to the floor, retching as his body automatically tried to drag in air that his lungs couldn’t remember how to deal with. People were stepping over him, kicking his legs as they tried to get around him, not paying him any attention as he struggled to breathe.

After an agonizing long time, he finally managed to take a productive gasp of air, his eyes watering as he took another heave that turned into a cough, which nearly turned into gagging. 

Another kick to his shin motivated him to gather himself together, grabbing the edge of the bar he pulled himself to his feet, bracing himself against it as he continued to try to catch his breath. 

A thin hand with soft skin settled on Sully’s shoulder and he turned to find the pretty girl from before looking at him with concern. “Are you ok?”

Sully turned his head away from her to cough into his shoulder before smiling widely at her. “I’m good, love!”

“Your friends not,” She said, tilting her chin in Nate’s direction.

Sully turned just in time to see Nate brandish the stool he was holding like a bat, swinging it towards the big guy's hip. The guy caught the stool, using it and Nate’s grip on it to yank Nate towards himself to pull him off balance.

Nate leaned into it, using the forward momentum to try to tackle the guy around the waist and pushing him back against the bar and sending drinks and plates tumbling to the ground.

Eduardo emerged from the kitchen, yelling loud and fast, so quickly that Sully couldn’t keep up but he caught “Carlos” in the rapid fire Spanish.

‘Carlos’ was clearly the brute that was grappling with Nate, yelling out as his spine hit the edge of the bar top. He clasped his big meaty hands together and slammed them down, driving both fists into the middle of Nates back. Nate grunted and his arms released, collapsing against Carlos’ legs. 

Carlos fisted his hand into Nate's hair, yanking his head back before driving his knee into his nose. Blood spurted out immediately as Nate fell backwards, hitting the floor with his arms splayed out, dazed. Carlos stalked forward and knelt on the floor, one knee on either side of Nate’s hips as he straddled him.

“Get off of him!” Sully yelled, rushing forwards and trying to grasp Carlos’ raised fist as the big guy grabbed the neck of Nate’s shirt with his other hand, lifting his head off of the floor. 

One effortless shove and Sully was sent stumbling backwards, caught before he hit the floor by Carlos’ posse, who latched onto his arms and forced him to his knees, pinning him in place. A front row seat as Carlos started whaling on Nate.

At first Nate weakly tried to fight back, becoming aware enough to bring his hands up and desperately trying to untangle Carlos’ hand from his shirt, trying to get his fingers in between Carlos’ fingers to try and pull them away but it was useless against the iron grip that he had. 

The big guys fist landed with a sickening crunch against Nate’s cheek, his head jerking to the side as blood from his nose spattered across the floor. He went limp immediately, his raised hands flopping against his chest uselessly and head lolling against the floor as Carlos jerked him into an upright position again, pulling back for another punch.

Sully could only yell as he struggled against the men holding him down, barely aware of what curses he screamed at Carlos and the other men as Carlos pummeled on Nate, who already hung unresponsive in his grip, his head limply rocking back and forth with every hit. Sully struggled against the men, trying to kick at them until his knee slipped out from under him and he was slammed face first into the floor, now stuck pinned to the floor and even more helpless than he started.

Finally Carlos released his grip on Nate's shirt and he dropped to the floor, his arms splayed out on either side of him. For a moment Sully felt relieved until Carlos' hand wrapped around Nate's throat instead. Sully could see how the pressure of his thumb across Nate's Adams apple immediately interfered with his ability to swallow, his head tilting back as he unconsciously tried to breathe. 

The discomfort roused him back to semi-consciousness though, his eyes opening to slits as his hands flailed for something to latch onto. 

He weakly tried to pry the hand away from his throat, to no avail yet again, before reaching out for Carlos's face or his throat, anything he could latch onto to try to fight him off. It was a useless battle, even being on the tall and lanky side he didn't have the reach that his much bigger opponent did and he was in such rough shape already.

Sully started yelling even louder, fighting like hell to get some sort of leverage against his captors as Nate's eyes rolled back in his head and his hands flopped to the floor again, succumbing to the lack of oxygen.

Just as he passed out, a pair of hard soled leather shoes hit the ground just in front of Sully, Eduardo joining the fray via a leap over the bar with more athleticism than Sully would've expected from the pot bellied proprietor. 

"Get off!" Eddie yelled as he delivered a powerful kick to the side of Carlos' ribcage. The force of the impact sent Carlos toppling over, his grip on Nate's shirt dragging the unconscious man over with him, rolling him onto his side. 

Eduardo jumped on Carlos, kicking him in the back of the knee as he tried to get up and wrapping an arm around his neck, capturing him in a chokehold. 

The resulting uproar from the posse was silenced at the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked. Straining against the weight on his back Sully turned his head to see the barrel of the gun poking over the top of the bar, aimed at the two holding him to the floor. He recognized Isabella's voice as she spoke, her voice a dare that any sane person knew better than to challenge.

"Get out." 

The men holding him down slowly moved back, clearly familiar with her no nonsense disposition. Eddie had the winning personality that brought the customers in and coming back, Isabella was the one that made sure they left when they were no longer welcome.

As soon as the hands were off, Sully scrambled towards Nate, tripping over his own feet and then Carlos' as Eduardo disentangled him from Nate and dragged him towards the door. 

"Shit, Nate," Sully muttered as he gently rolled Nathan onto his back. His breath hitched in his throat as Nate flopped against his leg. Sully snaked a hand under Nate’s shoulders and carefully lifted his upper body off the floor, cradling Nate’s head against his shoulder. “C’mon kid, open your eyes.”

There was a slight fluttering of Nate’s eyelashes but he didn’t wake.

“C’mon kid,” Sully muttered, gently tapping his fingers against Nate’s cheek. The skin on his face was already red and angry, Sully could tell that soon he’d be riddled in bruises and swelling up. The bottom part of his face was covered in blood leaking from his nose, following the call of gravity as it ran down across his cheek, pooling in his ears and wetting his hair. His jaw hung loose and Sully could hear the labour each breath took, catching in his throat. “Hey c’mon, Nate.”

Nate’s eyelashes fluttered briefly again and Sully saw a flicker of blue. 

“C’mon kid— Nathan!” Sully could feel the desperation building in his chest the longer the younger man remained unconscious and he raised his voice, his hand clutching onto Nate’s shoulder and shaking him.

Nate’s head lolled against Sully’s shoulder and his eyes rolled open. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment again before finally opening them. He blinked blearily up at Sully, his brow furrowing in pain and confusion.

“S-Sam?” Nate struggled to sit up, frantically looking around as he grabbed at Sully’s shoulder. “Sam, what happened?”

Sully felt as though his heart had dropped in his chest at the name. “Hey, take it easy, don’t get up yet.”

“Sam—” Nate faltered as he looked up at Sully and finally realized who it was leaning over him. Sully could almost see the gears turning in his head as he sought for an answer, heard the hitch in his breath as the memories surfaced, and felt the tightening of his hand on Sully’s shoulder moments before the anguish poured over him, his blood covered face crumpling when he realized his brother wasn’t there. That his brother would never be there again. 

Sully pulled Nate closer, wrapping his friend in a tight hug. Nate collapsed against him, exhausted and in pain, both physically and emotionally, surrendering fully to the support offered as sobs ripped through him. 

They sat there on the floor for a while, Sully cradling Nate against his chest with his back turned to the rest of the bar as Eduardo and Isabella escorted the rest of Carlos' group off of the premises. Sully felt like he could finally relax when he heard the lock on the deadbolt click into place and the neon bar lights in the windows flicked off. 

Isabella settled on her knees in front of Sully with a pack of frozen vegetables wrapped in a kitchen towel in her hand and offered it to him. He gratefully accepted it and encouraged Nate to lean back again.

“Hey kid, let me see ya,” He said quietly. “Your face is going to be big as a melon if we don’t deal with it soon.”

He pressed the cold towel over Nate’s eyebrow and cheek area, quietly apologizing as Nate winced at the contact. His hands fumbled upwards, feeling for the ice pack and taking control of it so Sully could let go, instead just holding Nate steady in the awkward halfway to seated position they had wound up in. 

Eduardo approached and Sully heard him and Isabella conversing in Spanish until Isabella stood and went back into the kitchen, while Eduardo took her place on the floor, laying a large hand on Nate’s shoulder. “My apologies, Carlos has never been a pleasant man to be around.”

“Are we going to run into trouble trying to get out of here?” Sully asked.

“No, Carlos is Isabella’s little cousin. He knows better than to mess with her, or his mother if she opts to tell on him.” Eduardo replied with a smirk.

Isabella returned with something wrapped in towels propped on her hip and held out her empty hand towards Sully. “Give me your keys, I will drive your truck. Eduardo will take you out the back.”

Eduardo leaned forward, offering to help Nate get to his feet as Sully fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them over as he stood. Nate groaned as Eduardo pulled him up, his eye that wasn’t already swelling shut falling closed and his head tilting back as he slumped against his chest. The improvised ice pack fell from his fingers and hit the floor, which Sully quickly picked up, choosing to hold onto it until they got him settled in the vehicle.

“Take it easy, I’ve got you,” Eduardo reassured him. Nate grunted in surprise, his eyes flying open as Eduardo bent over and then scooped Nate into his arms, carrying him bridal style into the kitchen and out the back door. Nate hissed a bit at the pressure against his achy body, but didn’t outright complain. He looked exhausted, beaten down and ready to pass out at a moment's notice.

Sully pulled the door closed behind them and then jogged ahead to open the back door of the car parked right behind the kitchen, an old BMW from the 60’s. He opened the door and slid across the back seat before turning to help Eduardo lower Nate into the back seat, getting his arms under Nate’s to pull him close enough to rest his head on Sully’s lap. Nate whimpered at the jostling, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. 

“Sorry! Sorry kid, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” Sully tried to reassure him, running his hand through Nate’s hair. Nate clung to Sully’s knee as Eduardo finished manoeuvring his body onto the back seat, his legs awkwardly bent so that the door could be closed. 

“Here, let's get this back on,” Sully said as a warning before placing the ice pack against Nate’s cheek. He couldn’t be sure, but he might have heard a muffled ‘thanks’ from Nate as Eduardo’s door slammed and the car engine roared to life, a couple gentle revs needed to keep the engine from sputtering out before he shifted into gear and eased the car out of the alley, heading off towards their rental.

The Jeep was parked out front already when they arrived, the lights on the porch and front room lighting up the area so it was easy to see as the three of them worked on getting out of the old car. Eduardo offered to carry Nate again, which Nate rejected, resolutely attempting to put one foot in front of the other on his own. 

Which worked out for a few steps until he staggered and nearly fell before Sully got his shoulder under Nate’s armpit, wrapping his arm around the younger man's torso. Nate gratefully leaned against him as the pair of them slowly made their way up the short staircase to the porch.

Inside, Isabella was already working away in their kitchen. Sully recognized the towels from the package she had left the bar with haphazardly folded on the table and an unfamiliar pot on the stove that she was heating up. 

Nate lurched towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and Sully helped him along all the way to Nate’s room at the back of the house. Books littered nearly every surface in the room, including a few on the bed that they carefully avoided as Nate sat on the edge of it. When he felt half confident that Nate wouldn’t immediately tip over without support, Sully quickly gathered the errant books and stacked them on the edge of the small side table.

Nate started to waver, dully staring at the wall ahead of him as Sully bustled around him until he gently pushed Nate backwards, guiding his head to the pillow and then lifting his legs onto the bed. Nate sighed heavily as he settled into the bed.

Eduardo knocked on the partially open door, leaning in without waiting for a response to hand over a baggy of ice cubes wrapped in a towel and a damp face cloth. Sully gratefully took them and placed the cold package against the darkening bruises around Nate’s throat, causing him to wince. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone as Sully started to wipe the blood from Nate’s face.

“Sorry kid.” He was being as gentle as he could, but even the slightest touches seemed to hurt.

“I can’t remember what his voice sounds like.”

“What?” Sully paused, confused at the statement.

Nate took a shaky breath, the one eye he could open welling up with tears. “Sam. I already can’t remember what his voice sounds like.”

Sully took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it rush out. 

“It’s only been a few months and I can’t hear his voice in my head anymore.” Nate stared at the ceiling but Sully wasn’t sure just how much he could even see through the tears. He choked on a hiccup before he started to ramble on. “When mom died Sam said a few weeks later that he couldn’t remember what her laugh sounded like. I think I was too numb to think about it at the time, but he was right. I couldn’t hear her voice anymore.” His face twisted into anguish as a sob ripped through him. “And now I can’t hear him either.”

Sully felt his own heart break as his friend fell apart in front of him. It wasn’t something he had thought about before, and for a moment he denied it to himself. Of course he could still hear what Samuel sounded like. But when he tried to imagine it, he could remember conversations that they had shared, but the things that Sam said… they were just words in his head now. The actual sound of Sam’s voice wasn’t there anymore.

Nate started to curl into himself, one hand latched to his forehead and covering his eyes, the flesh of his fingertips turning bone white at how tightly he clenched onto his own head. The other hand pressed against his throat, the already sensitive and aching muscles feeling like they were going to be torn apart as he choked on the grief clawing its way up his oesophagus, rending a pain that he felt to his very core. He rolled to his side, towards Sully, curling into a ball as much as he could. His knees collided with Sully’s back and he blindly latched onto his friend, burying his face in Sully’s shirt as the tears and sobs continued. It felt like the tears would never end. There was no end to this ocean of anguish, he would never find the bottom and he would never find the surface again, never be able to take a proper breath and he would drown right there on dry land. 

All he could do was fall apart and see what there was left to pick up if this pain ever ended.

And all Sully could do was try to hold onto the pieces. He held onto Nate as best as he could, one hand rubbing up and down his back, the other carding through his hair as the young man trembled against him. He subconsciously tried to reassure him, murmuring platitudes of “It’s okay, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” He didn’t know what else to say, he’d never been good with words, but it felt more important to just say something even slightly reassuring rather than letting him wallow in silence.

He didn’t keep track of the time, it wasn’t important, but eventually Nate fell into a fitful sleep. Sully carefully extricated himself from Nate’s loose grip and gently lifted his head to stuff the pillow underneath him. He grabbed an extra blanket from the wardrobe in the corner, spreading it over Nate and tucked it in. 

He spotted the towel that had held the ice pack and tugged it out from under Nate’s arm, now fully melted but thankfully not having leaked everywhere and returned to the kitchen with it. Eddie and Isabella were gone, a note left on the counter in Eddie’s chicken scratch writing letting him know the food Isabella had brought was packed in the fridge and one of them would be back before lunch the next day with more and if they needed anything at all, to give him a call and then his phone number scrawled underneath. 

He flicked off the lights, grabbed a kitchen chair and carried it back to Nate’s room, where he settled in next to the bed with his feet propped on the foot of the bed, resolving to not let Nate wake up alone during the night.

~

Two days passed in near silence. Nate slept through most of it, only interrupted by Sully bringing him food that Eddie or Isabella delivered twice a day. Everything they brought was like magic, something soft or a soup that would be easy for Nate to swallow with his achy throat, but still hearty and filling, even with the small amount that Nate would manage to pick at before going back to sleep.

On the third morning, Sully was sitting in the living room, his back aching from spending the nights sitting next to Nate's bed, half heartedly working on a crossword puzzle in a newspaper that just wasn’t working out with the words he could think of. He was about ready to give up when he heard the shower turn on and he glanced at his watch. It would be a reasonable time for breakfast and Eddie’s new habit of stopping by with lunch wouldn’t be for another couple hours. If Nate was feeling well enough to get in the shower by his own volition, maybe he would be up to having breakfast.

Sully puttered into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what he had on hand. It had been a while since he made it to the market in the next town over so there wasn’t much, but there were a few eggs, the last chunk of a block of cheese, and some milk in the bottom of the jar. Enough to make some omelettes, he supposed. He’d need to visit the market today and restock, they wouldn’t be able to rely on Eddie and Isabella’s kindness forever. Maybe he could ask Eddie to stick around and keep an eye on Nate while he slipped out for a bit.

This would be that much better with veggies, Sully mused to himself as he whipped the eggs into a slurry. On a whim he opened the freezer door and found the bag of frozen veggies that Isabella had given Nate to use as an ice pack at the bar. It was funny, but also absolutely not at all. With that mix of emotions, he ripped the bag open and poured it into the pan to mix with the eggs and cheese.

He had just plated the omelettes and set them on the small kitchen table with a pot of coffee when Nathan emerged from the hallway wearing a clean long sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. He held onto the strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder, and in the other hand he clutched a small leather bound journal. He looked haggard still. The swelling around his eye had gone down so he could sorta open it, but the flesh was still black around the socket, the rest of his face mottled with shades of purple and green.

He looked surprised to see the spread on the table.

“Do I need to pack my bag or can a guy have breakfast before we hit the road?” Sully asked as he pulled out a chair.

“We can eat.” 

“Good. You know how cranky I can get without a meal to start the day.” Nate smirked at Sully’s comment as he dropped his bag and placed the journal on top before taking a seat at the table.

“Isabella brought this last night, freshly squeezed,” Sully said as he poured orange juice from a glass jar into cups.

Nate picked up his cup, swirling the pulpy liquid around. “Sam always hated pulp in his juice. Said it wasn’t right to drink anything with that sort of texture.”

“To each their own,” Sully said, picking up his glass. He was about to take a swig when Nate held his glass up, extending it towards Sully.

“To Sam.”

“To Sam,” Sully echoed. 

It took time, but eventually Nate seemed like he was doing okay. Sully never wanted to pick at that particular scab, not wanting to open up the well of grief even if he knew he would always be there to help Nate deal with it, so he waited for Nate to say something first if he needed to.

It was nearly 15 years later when Sully heard Nathan mention Sam’s name again.

[ambersky-art]

3. Abby

ID: A digital drawing of Abby from Minecraft Diaries. Her name is in all caps in the top right corner, with the series' title right below it in a different and smaller font. In the bottom right corner is her color palette. Abby has long light brown hair that covers one eye and drapes over her shoulders. She has pale skin. Her right arm ends at the elbow. She's wearing a light green dress that has a slightly darker layer beneath it, both layers opening into a slit in the front, a waistband in very dark green, and slightly lighter dark green knee-high boots. There is a sleeve from her elbow to just below her shoulder on her right arm. The dress has an off-the-shoulder sleeve on Abby's left. /End ID.

Fan Reference Masterpost

I'll be honest, I don't remember much about her beyond she's Jeffory's daughter and relied very much on the wiki in coming up with what her character is like.

I imagine this is post-escaping the Southeastern Wolf Tribe, she's been a guard for hire for a while now and hasn't come out of it unscathed. She wears green to honor her father, but unlike Jeffory who wore brighter green and white, she dons less saturated and darker greens while seeking to avenge her father.

Will I change some of those details when I actually get to that part of the series in my rewatch? Maybe, but who knows!

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Howdy! I hope that you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request yandere engie (tf2) who is trying to get his s/o used to physical contact such as hand holding etc.

Yes, of course!

Yandere engineer x reader physical contact

Tw: past kidnapping, gaslighting, threats, vague sexual undertones, forced affection, one forced kiss, invasion of privacy. Dead Dove DNE

If you want a slightly lighter version lmk

Dell was tired, more tired than he’d been in a while. While he loved you more than anything you’d been more skittish lately. He never knew you’d take a hit this hard, he understood that he kidnapped you. He wasn’t that crazy, he understood that was difficult to cope with. But you had to learn at some point that you were gonna be with him from now on. Which meant at some point, you’d have to give him affection.

He knew that right now you didn’t care about him as a partner. You’d told him several times prior you loved him as a friend, but if you could be friends you could be partners. Dell stuck to that idea with his whole chest. He didn’t need a fancy chart or nothing to tell him that. The one thing racing through this bulldogs mind was the need for contact.

You refused to come out of your room.

He’d given you enough space to come out on your own where he waited at the end of the hallway. When you moved to duck back into your room he stopped you with a whistle.

“Where you think you’re going silly thing?” You frowned at the ground, trying not to look him in the eye. He stepped forward now, threat clear in his posture.

You had to answer.

“I forgot my journal.”

“No you didnt.”

“Why do you think-“ you tried to snap before you closed your own mouth. From the satchel on his belt he procured a notebook. He opened the pages and leaned against a wall.

“Journal entry one,

Today I met the handsomest man in New Mexico. Which isn’t much to say considering I don’t have a very high opinion of anyone else. I think he’s faking the whole accent for the ladies around, but aside from that I find him.”

He smirked evily at your shocked expression.

“Charmin’.”

You lunged at him with no semblance of thought. The hidden need for privacy rearing it’s ugly head, and your lack of thought is what led you straight into Dells arms.

He dropped the book and stepped a bit to the side in an instant. His cheeky grin grew wider as he felt you come into contact with his elbow. The moment he did, he stepped behind you and constructed you. Effectively trapping you against him.

You bucked up frantically, only realizing your mistake as you felt his muscles press into your midsection. The way he was holding you felt bruising and too intimate. You thrust yourself down to now avail. He laughed in amusement before placing a small trail of kisses from your ear to your shoulder.

You whined in fear at his next move but all he did was steadily waddle the two of you to the living room.

“All that fuss over a diary honey?” He asked in a tone free of condensention. Though you imagined he made it sound that was to pretend like he cared. You couldn’t move on your own now. It dawned on you that your feet weren’t touching the ground.

“Bet it’s kinda silly, goin’ through all that hard work only to end up back in my arms? Down you go!” He set you down flat on the ground and before you could run he grabbed your hand.

The speed in which his gloved hand shot towards you hurt your fingers and you were almost certain he broke something. You held back a sob and a gasp of shock as he spun and dipped you over the edge of the couch.

In a desperate attempt to plead with him not to do what you assumed he was going to you backed up.

Dell held his hands up, big brown eyes showing clear offense at the mention of it.

“Whoa now honey, I never claimed to want and do that now.” You breathed heavily, not believing him for a second. He must’ve liked the game. At any second now he’d pounce.

“I’ll even sit on the other end of the couch.”

And so he did. On the opposite end of the room he sat, and he sat comfortably.

His legs were spread, presenting his lap freely. His arm lay on the armrest and the other on his thigh. He smiled at you like he used to.

You’d sat on his lap before but now that you knew the context you wanted to vomit.

“I’ll kill you.”

“You keep telling yourself that sugar. You’re stuck here without me, without a key to the outside, nor any other friends in the world. Ones that care- anyway.”

His voice got darker.

“So you better make a darn good choice about your next few actions.”

He was glaring now.

You wanted to sit up, but fear kept you down on the sofa.

“You’re going to let me leave if I want to right?”

“You ain’t in the position to bargain with me sug’ I’ll decide when you leave.” There was the condescending tone.

You resigned yourself, sliding off the couch that in any other circumstance wouldn’t have seemed submissive, and rather it would’ve been funny.

You tried to lighten the mood as you crawled your way over. You couldn’t get your legs to work.

“You remember a similar time at Kaseys?” He smiled warmly at the botched attempt at connection. He indulged you with a hand to help you up on his lap.

“You mean when you spilled wine all over yourself and to not get it on her sofa slid onto her tile?”

“Yeah” You chuckled awkwardly, throwing your leg around his thick thighs. Ending up only being able to sit on one with a bit of discomfort.

“When you had to take off your shirt in front of everyone because it was wet and you were drunk” he pushed your back so you were chest to chest. Your chin rested on his shoulder and his other arm (gunslinger) came around your hips.

“When I had to tell the folk to clear the room so I could get the mess sorted.”

“I-“ you wanted to ask him to stop going on. It was embarrassing. But the embarrassment made you forget the situation.

He squeezed you teasingly, reminding you of that night.

“The night you pressed against me and asked me if I’d marry you?”

You used what little strength you had to push yourself away, opting to refute before you saw his expression. He took your hands in his and stared at you earnestly.

“And if I am gong to be honest my dear, I would not want a single thing more than that.”

He pressed a surprise kiss to your lips. An action not appreciated, as you bit him hard. He only groaned against it. You flipped shit and ran, pushing him away by his face, and barreling to your room.

You slammed the door and let the tears run down freely. But he didn’t come after you.

He just smiled and sat back.

That was painful.

But it was progress.

[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 22

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4.7k

Rating: E

⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains some student/teacher roleplay. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that!

Read on AO3

January flows by in a blur, and before I know it, it’s mid-February, exams are fast approaching, and Natasha and I are rushing to finish all the preparations for our conference next week. The days are growing longer, but we can observe no evidence of this in Oxford, for the city is permanently soaked under thick, grey clouds. Even the dreaming spires seem to long for spring, reaching high into the sky above the clouds in search of the sun.

After my morning tutorials and a quick meeting with Natasha, I finally have a rare moment to myself, so I decide to take a chance and see if Richard is in his office. Yesterday, I finally received an advanced copy of my monograph, but I still haven’t gotten the opportunity to show it to him. 

My first monograph. I can hardly believe it. Despite all the long nights of research and writing that went into it, it’s almost like part of me hadn’t really expected it to become a reality. But it did, and now I’m holding it in my hands. An actual book with my name written in bold, black letters on the slipcover. I take another glance inside, as though worried my surprise for Richard might have disappeared from the pages, but of course, seeing as this isn’t Tom Riddle’s diary, the text is still there. My heart flutters as I try to imagine Richard’s reaction, and when I knock on his office door, it’s with a wide smile on my face.

“Come in.” His deep, rumbling voice declares from the other side of the door. 

“Hey, do you have a minute?” I ask, now standing in the doorway. 

Soft, grey light floods the room from the grand, diamond grid window behind the desk, where Richard currently sits, the elbow patches of his tweed jacket resting on the wooden surface as he puts down his cuppa. His eyes light up when he looks up at me, and he nods enthusiastically. 

“Of course!” 

Closing the door behind me, I approach his desk and snuggle into his awaiting arms, leaning in to press a kiss atop his unruly hair. 

“I have something to show you,” I say in a sing-songy voice. 

“Oh?” 

With a smile, I pull the book from my bag and hand it to him. His eyes linger on my face for a moment more, brimming with tenderness, before he glances down at the book, and a surprised chuckle falls from his lips. 

“Lorelei—this is a copy of your monograph!” 

“It is,” I reply in an equally excited tone. 

His eyes shine with unmistakable pride as he pores over the front and back cover. “This is incredible! I am so proud of you, sweetheart.” As he says so, he pulls me onto his lap and squeezes me tight, one of his hands coming to rest on my thigh just below the hem of my plaid skirt as he presses a lingering kiss on my cheek. “I wish I had time to start reading this right now.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I hasten to say with a shake of my head. “It’s not even remotely connected to your research area.” 

“This is your first monograph—how could I not read it?” His words stir an overflow of affection within me, and I wonder how I ever put up with partners who couldn’t even pretend to be interested in my research to show support. “We definitely need to celebrate!” 

Pushing all thoughts of past relationships from my mind, I smile. “Well, Beatrice is coming to visit in a few weeks, right around the publication date, actually. So maybe we could all celebrate together then?”

“That sounds great,” Richard replies, then moves to set the book on his desk. 

“You haven’t looked inside!” I point out, and he raises an inquiring eyebrow. 

“What—did you hide a naughty photo in there for me?” he jokes, causing me to shake my head in amusement as he opens the book and flips through the first pages. Then he stills, and his eyes soften as he carefully reads the dedication. 

To Richard,

For all your love, patience, and support

“Lorelei…” he says softly, his voice heavy with emotion. 

I smile as I reach out to cradle his face, my thumb gently tracing the faint colour on his cheek. “I love you, Richard. So much.” 

“I love you, too, my darling girl,” he murmurs as he leans in to rest his forehead against mine. We remain like this for a little while, savouring the comforting tranquillity of the moment, before his eyes flutter close, and he tilts his head slightly to kiss me. His lips are warm and soft against mine as we lose ourselves in this languid caress, our arms wrapped around each other as though unwilling to let the other go for even a second, but we both know that this intimate moment cannot last as long as we wish it could. 

“I have to go,” I reluctantly say when we pull apart a few moments later. “I have a meeting with a student in like 10 minutes, then another tutorial.” Richard groans in response but loosens his hold on me. “Your place or mine tonight?” 

“I’m pretty much done for the day; I just have a meeting on zoom later and I’ll be heading home for that. So is my place okay?” 

“Yeah, sure! Do you need me to stop at the grocery store to get something for dinner?” 

“No, I’ve got plenty of food. I do need laundry detergent, though, but I won’t have you running errands like that for me just yet—I want to keep the spark alive between us for a little while longer,” he says teasingly with a wide smirk, causing me to giggle as I lean in for another kiss. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later then.” Another kiss. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” he replies as I stand up and retrieve my book. “And I’m really proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” I say with a smile, warmth blooming on my cheeks. There is so much more I want to say to him, but words fall short of conveying the depth of my love and gratitude, so I can only hope that the dedication reveals just how much his support means to me. 

***

Later that day, I park behind Richard’s car in the hedged drive in front of his house, then make my way up the stone steps leading to the front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell when I remember he mentioned a zoom meeting, so I opt instead for the emergency key he keeps hidden under the currently empty clay pot next to the door. As quietly as possible, I slip inside, making sure to put the key back in its place and lock the door behind me. 

Apart from a small table lamp next to the sofa in the living room, the house is submerged in darkness, but I’m not surprised. After taking off my coat and boots,  I make my way up the creaking stairs and, as expected, find Richard in his office, a deep frown of concentration wrinkling his forehead. He sits at his desk, surrounded by books and papers, his glasses lowered slightly on the ridge of his nose as he carefully reads something on his computer. The only light in the room comes from his screen, telling me that he has been hard at work for many hours. Though I don’t want to disturb him, I reach out to turn on the light to ensure he doesn’t overexert his eyes, which prompts him to look up at me. 

“Am I on time for your office hours, Professor Armitage?” I teasingly say.

Smiling, he scratches his beard with one of his large hands, then stretches, and I bite back a sigh at the sight of his white shirt tight over his muscles. The tweed blazer he wore earlier is draped over the back of his chair, and it almost falls to the floor before he secures it more carefully behind his back. “I’m sorry, love—I thought I’d be done by now.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes with his other hand, then frowns. “Did I forget to lock the door or did you get the key from the flower pot?”

I bite my lips guiltily as I walk over to his desk. His eyes linger on my legs—or my skirt?—for a moment, but then he meets my eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in a meeting, so I didn’t want to disturb you. I hope that was okay?” 

“Of course, it’s okay. In fact, that key should be yours.” 

I pause. 

“What?” 

“The key should be yours,” Richard repeats, unfaltering. “You’re here all the time anyways.” 

This isn’t the first time a partner has offered me a key to their home, but it had felt different last time. My ex had been a Ph.D. candidate like me at the time, and he was going away for a conference over the weekend and had asked me to water his plants. Then, when he came back, he simply told me to keep the key. Perhaps my ex had meant it to be symbolic, but it had felt more like a thing of convenience, and somehow, even though we had been dating for over a year, I had felt like I was trespassing when I went to his flat when he wasn’t there. Now, however, as I gaze back into Richard’s cerulean eyes, everything feels right. Things are moving fast between us, but it just feels so right. 

“Well, as you say, I’m here a lot more than you’re at my flat. But, still, consider my spare key yours as well,” I reply with a shy smile, hoping that is the appropriate response to his offer. 

He grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that deeply irresistible way. Then silence falls between us, and I recognize a hint of shyness in his expression, so I lean in to kiss his forehead and change the subject. 

“Are you still working on that dissertation?” I ask as I steal a glance at his computer. 

“Yeah because my meeting went on much longer than expected. Stephen put me in contact with Stanley Griffin—he’s a professor at Harvard—”

“Wait, the Stanley Griffin?” 

“Yes,” he replies with a wide smile. “We talked about our research and he’d be interested in working on a project with me—not sure yet the extent of it, but it’s exciting.” 

“Richard, that’s amazing!” I exclaim and hug him tight. His smile widens as he wraps one arm around my waist.  “Why didn’t you tell me before about this meeting?” 

A hint of pink colours his cheeks. “Part of me honestly expected him to cancel, so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

I raise my brows in incredulity. “Why on earth would he cancel a meeting with you?” 

He shrugs again. “He’s Stanley Griffin.” 

“And you’re Richard Armitage!” I exclaim. “Professor at Exeter College. Winner of Shakespeare’s Globe Award and the Sam Wanamaker Award. Editor for the Shakespeare Quaterly—shall I go on?” 

 “Please, no,” Richard laughs, his face now a deep, endearing red. 

“You are just as brilliant and influential as he is—”

“I highly doubt that.” 

“Richard!” I groan. 

He laughs again and squeezes my waist. “I just don’t know how to handle compliments.”

‘They’re not compliments—they’re facts,” I reply with a raised chin. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is that this is a wonderful opportunity, and I’m very happy for you.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says with a shy smile, then returns his attention to his computer, telling me that I need to stop lavishing him with praise before he permanently turns into a tomato. “So, I’ll just finish this—I promised a student I’d finish writing my comments on her latest dissertation chapter tonight.” 

“How much longer?” I ask, pouting playfully, but deep down, I really do crave his attention. We are both so much busier than we could have anticipated this semester, and thus our time together has been limited to rushed lunches between classes or evenings spent working on our research or course planning side by side. 

“I don’t know,” he chuckles. “You can have dinner if you’re hungry. Don’t wait for me, love.”

Usually, I would simply kiss him and let him work; ever since we started dating, it’s been important for both of us not to allow our relationship to get in the way of our careers. Tonight, however, I feel an irresistible pull toward him; I don’t know if it’s how refined he looked with his glasses, if it’s the slightly loosened tie over his white shirt, or simply the fact that we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately—or even a combination of all three—but I cannot take my eyes off him. 

“You’re distracting me,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down my spine. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” I reply without thinking, biting my lips. 

Richard keeps his eyes fixed on his screen, but I don’t miss how his eyes darken. Although he has never spoken about it, and he would probably never ask, I know he finds it deeply arousing when I call him by that title, and now that we are in his office, I find the fantasy even more intoxicating. 

Now leaning against his desk so that the hem of my brown plaid skirt slips higher along my thighs, I hesitantly reach out to caress his bicep. His skin is warm under the cotton of his shirt, but not as warm as the fiery intensity in his eyes as he stares longingly at my thighs. No words are spoken as we study each other, assessing the other’s intentions. Then he swallows heavily.

“I don’t know if it’s that skirt or what, but….” He shakes his head as though trying to get rid of the lustful thoughts he hesitates to share with me, even though I know he wants this new and exciting game as much as I do. “Sorry, forget about it.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say softly, coming back to reality for a moment, but when he remains silent, I begin to fear I’ve crossed a line. 

“I don’t want it to be weird,” he begins, looking away. “I mean, I have never thought of a student in that way, but if we do this, isn’t it weird?” 

“Oh, love, no—don’t worry! I’ve never fantasized about being with a professor when I was still a student, and I know you’ve never thought of a student like that. Believe me, if I had even the smallest suspicion on that front we wouldn’t be together,” I say, and he chuckles, though I can tell he’s still embarrassed. “This is just role-playing. For fun! It’s completely harmless—nothing weird about it.” 

“Yeah?” 

I nod. “Richard, I want you to feel comfortable sharing your fantasies with me, even if you think they’re weird! Because I can assure you they’re not.” 

Richard swallows heavily, and I bite my lips to stop myself from sighing when he runs a hand over his beard. Desire hums in my veins, and despite myself, I impatiently press my thighs together and am rewarded with a gentle wave of pleasure that only leaves me yearning for more. He remains silent for a few more moments, then, at last, something shifts in his gaze, and he rests one of his large hands on my knee. 

“You didn’t do very well on your last assignment, Miss Browning,” he begins in a dangerously low voice. I shiver. 

“I’m sorry, Professor,” I reply, my voice slightly breathless as I lose myself in his hungry eyes. “Is there any way I could improve my grade?” 

Richard’s hand slips higher up my thighs, sneaking under my skirt to tease the hem of my nylon stockings, and my skin erupts into goosebumps. I need him to bring his hand to my core and caress me until that sweet, fiery pleasure consumes me, but something in his gaze tells me that I will be rewarded for my patience, so I force myself to remain silent. When his fingertips brush against the laced edge of my knickers, however, I can’t help but rock my hips to meet his touch. I instantly regret my disobedience, for Richard narrows his eyes and removes his hand completely, depriving me of the touch I desperately crave. 

“I’m sure we can arrange something, Miss Browning, but you will have to do exactly as I tell you. Is that understood?” 

“Yes.” 

Richard stands up, now towering over me, his tie hanging between us and tickling my skin through my jumper. His eyes are dark with lust as he frowns. “What was that?” 

“Yes, Professor,” I correct myself. He has only spoken a few words, and I’m already on fire; I could never have predicted how much this game would affect me, and I know I’m not prepared for the pleasure yet to come.

“Good girl,” he says, and heat pools between my thighs. “Now undress.” 

“Yes, Professor.” My voice trembles as I hastily reach for the hem of my jumper to pull it over my head, only for him to stop me with a harsh grip on my wrists. 

“Slowly,” he growls warningly. 

Swallowing back a whimper, I obey. I keep my eyes fixed on his face to catch every flicker in his eyes and every swipe of his tongue over his lips as I undress, making sure that my jumper slowly caresses my skin as I peel it off my burning body. Richard leans back in his chair as I reach for the clasps of my bra; his wool trousers do nothing to conceal his growing arousal, and I bite my lips as I let my bra fall to the floor, exposing my beaded nipples to the low light of the office. The next items to go are my skirt and stockings, but before I can stand up to remove them, he stops me. 

“The skirt stays on.” 

Another wave of heat spills from me, and my breath hitches in my throat when his large hands come to rest on my left thigh, his fingers brushing the naked skin just above my nylon stocking, all while he gazes into my eyes. With a level of tenderness that makes my head spin, Richard slowly begins to peel my stocking off my leg, caressing every inch of my goosebump-stained skin as he uncovers it. I never thought something as simple as taking off stockings could be so sensual, but now I almost feel as though I could climax from that alone. My knickers are next, and he steps into the space between my legs as he slides his hands under my skirt to take them off. I have to wriggle around to help him, and I can’t hold back my giggle. A boyish smirk spreads across Richard’s face, but he quickly gets back into character. 

The wooden desk is hard and cold against my bare bottom, but I soon forget about the minor discomfort as Richard towers over me, forcing me to raise my head to meet his fiery gaze. His chest is mere centimetres away from my face, so close I can practically hear the frantic beating of his heart. I desperately want to pull off his tie and unbutton his shirt so I can caress every inch of his chest, but I crave praise even more, so I keep my hands on the desk and wait for his next command.  When Richard speaks again, his voice is deeper, rougher, and far more commanding. 

“Bend over the desk.” 

I bite my lips to stop myself from whimpering. Thrilled to see that he is unknowingly acting out exactly what I had been dreaming of, I obediently stand and turn around to bend over his cluttered desk. I can feel his hungry gaze on me, burning my skin, and my heart beats faster in anticipation. His chair scrapes against the floor as he inches closer to me, then, with only the tips of his long fingers, he begins to caress my back, down the length of my spine, before reaching under my skirt to squeeze my bum. My whole body is on fire as he continues his careful exploration of my curves, and when, at last, he spreads my legs further apart to trail his fingers over my slickness, a desperate whimper escapes my lips. He leisurely caresses my folds, spreading my arousal around before burying two fingers inside me. My responding moan echoes through the room as I lift my hips toward him, desperate for more. 

“I think you are enjoying this a little too much, Miss Browning,” Richard growls as he suddenly stops pleasuring me with his long fingers, and I whine in frustration. “I’m supposed to be teaching you a lesson, aren’t I?” A light smack on my bottom accompanies his words, then he pauses, waiting for my consent, and my core trembles when I understand his intention. 

“Yes, Professor,” I whimper and obediently arch my back. 

The sound of his hand against my bare flesh echoes through the room as he smacks my bottom. It stings, but Richard hastens to gently rub the soreness away. Even in our most heated moments, he is always so careful and tender, and it makes me fall more in love with him each time. Then he smacks me again, a little harder this time, no doubt marking my skin, but my arousal only hums more intensely. 

“Professor,” I moan, my hands closing in on a loose sheet of paper on the desk, carelessly scrunching it as I squirm under his unrelenting treatment, my cheeks burning in need and embarrassment. Then, as he tenderly caresses my back, his name unwittingly falls from my lips in a needy whine. 

Suddenly, he stops and hastens to turn me around. His face is flushed, a strand of hair falling over his forehead, and his eyes dark with lust, but I notice a trace of worry in him as he searches my face, clearly worried he has gone too far. But he hasn’t, and a simple look of encouragement is enough to convince him to go on. However, instead of pushing me back onto the desk, he reaches for his belt, and the soft cling of the metal hitting the floor sends a thrill through me. Then he sits back on his chair and beckons for me to join him. 

His hardness presses into my inner thigh as I straddle him, my arousal spilling onto his trousers. His strong arms hold me tight, digging into the flesh of my waist, and I rest my hands on his chest, waiting for his next command. The corners of his lips twitch as he leans in closer, his lips hovering over mine but never closing in for a kiss, and I nearly whimper from the frustration. 

“It’s your turn to undress me now, Miss Browning.” 

His words, spoken in that low, rumbling tone, go straight to my core. My fingers brush against his throat as I struggle to loosen his tie, then pull it over his head, ruffling his already unruly hair in the process. I know better than to be surprised by how irresistible he looks when his hair is messy like this, but I can’t help but sigh in admiration. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus, and with trembling hands, I unbutton his shirt, then trail my fingers through the patch of hair that covers his pectorals. He groans, and, finally, as though he cannot wait for a second more, he kisses me. Sparks erupt in my core as he devours my lips with abandon, and when he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, I purr and grind myself against him. As soon as his member brushes my core, I know we have teased each other enough. 

Everything happens so fast. No hesitation remains between us as he shrugs off his shirt, and I unbutton his trousers and push them down along with his briefs as much as I can in this position. His member springs free, hard and ready for me, and I lick my lips as I stare at the drops of arousal spilling from the tip. 

“Lift your skirt,” Richard orders, and I blindly heed his command. With one hand, he tightens his hold on me, while with the other, he grips his hardness and rubs himself against my wetness. My whole body trembles from the nearly overwhelming need for release. “You are so desperate for me, aren’t you?” 

I can only whimper in response, feeling as though I will faint from the intense pleasure burning incessantly inside me. When he finally presses himself between my folds, I cry out in relief and steady myself with one hand on the back of the chair. My other hand digs into his chest, scratching him lightly. Once he is all the way in, he praises me and gives me a short moment to adjust before he gives a tentative thrust. Heat coils in my belly, my skin tingling from the delicious intrusion, but then he thrusts again, harder this time, and fire licks me from the inside out, leaving me whimpering and panting in his arms. I move along with him, bouncing in that rhythm and angle that feels especially good for him. Richard rewards me with a low groan and a harsher grip on my hips, and I smile to myself as I bury one hand in his unruly hair, pulling him closer to me. 

“That’s my girl—you’re doing so good.” 

He seems to be everywhere at once; his arms wrapped around me, his lips and teeth marking a path from my neck to my breasts, and his hardness grazing into that sensitive spot deep inside me with every thrust. I feel my orgasm within reach already, my muscles clenching him hard, but Richard is the first to come. He spills himself inside me with a harsh moan, yet even as he lets his head fall back in bliss, he slips one hand under my skirt to rub my clit, shattering me in seconds. My climax is unlike anything I have ever experienced before, and it feels like the whole room is spinning around us as I cry out. 

We remain wrapped in each other’s arms for a long while after, our heavy breathing the only sounds in the office. My muscles still quiver around him, and he shivers in my arms before pressing a gentle kiss on my cheek, then on my swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly whispers, and I frown. “I don’t know what came over me, when I … spanked you….” His voice is heavy with guilt, and when I meet his gaze, a deep blush paints his cheeks.

“Don’t be sorry,” I reply softly. “I liked it.” I feel my own cheeks burn up, but I force myself not to be embarrassed, knowing I have no reason to be ashamed about my feelings with him. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, his eyes widening with worry as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. 

“You didn’t. Well—maybe a little, but again, I liked it.” 

He sighs in relief, then kisses me once more. “You’re a very naughty girl, Miss Browning.” 

Giggling, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the musky, sweaty scent that clings to his skin. “I guess I should let you work now,” I reluctantly say. “I’m sorry for distracting you.” 

“You’re the best distraction,” he replies, a note of playfulness to his voice as he squeezes me tight. “How about we take a shower, then have dinner together, and I can finish all this later.” 

“Are ou sure?” I ask, looking up to watch his handsome face. 

“I’m absolutely sure. I miss hanging out with you.” 

His words fill me with warmth, and I offer him a tender smile as I trace the outline of his bearded jaw with my fingertips. “Then it’s settled.” We seal our deal with another lingering kiss. “And let’s have some wine—we do have something to celebrate, after all.” 

“More than one, actually,” he answers with a wide grin.  

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[sepdet]

I had to get another 12 vials of blood siphoned off, so it's time for another exciting installment in The Vampire Diaries, brought to you by the Anerican healthcare system.

Let's call this The Stigmata Phlebotomy Lab Strikes Back, shall we?

Content warning: blood, needles, medical incompetence

Recap: For those of you just joining us, in 2022 I became a statistic for the COVID + mild autoimmune diseases like arthritis can trigger "autoimmune dysregulation" studies. That means the immune system starts running around screaming THE SKY IS FALLING and attacking one's own organs in an attempt to flush out intruders. (Ew, I just realized, it turned my T-cells into MAGATs/Tories.)

Good news, the target was not my lungs.

Bad news, two words you never want to hear together from an ophthalmologist: "eye melt".

After many creative ($$$$) measures, what saved my eyes were eyedrops made from my own blood plasma, because we're resorting to medical witchcraft now. (Platelets, apparently.)

So. Vital Tears? Saved my vision. Trouble is, their phlebotomists are auditioning for Monty Python.

The Hostile Housecall Sketch. When I couldn't see to drive, I had to invite a vampire into my home, which was a little awkward for an introvert who's had to self-isolate since 2019. I'm sure my manners were rusty, but still, she was the most uncommunicative medical professional i have ever met, sort of an anti-dentist. I fumblingly suggested the dining room after she didn't reply to my "Welcome, I'm [name], this is my first time so I'm kind of nervous!" I realized afterwards that she never told me her name. I know she must have spoken at some point, but all I remember is stony silence.

Sterile Procedures? In This Pandemic? Next time I drove to the lab hoping to find a more friendly med tech. And I found one! He was very friendly while dropping all twelve vials of my blood on the floor again and again because he kept setting them on a rounded stool instead of a table. Quoth he: "Don't worry, it happens all the time. The last patient was nervous about it, too, but I told him not to worry about it!" I was not altogether reassured. Maybe I shouldn't have looked at those Health Advisory flyers on the way in warning about a drug-resistant candida aureus outbreak in county healthcare facilities.

Operation Stigmata. Today'a score: 5 phlebotomists, 9 rubber gloves, 3 glasses of water and 2 low sodium V8s before the appointment and 2 liters of water during, 7 cotton pads. 8 bandaids, ~15 disinfecting sterile swabs, 3 rubber tourniquets (sometimes 2 at once), EIGHT different needles and EIGHT different punctures, and 2 hours to fill 12 vials with blood.

I almost made it through without losing my temper — the last thing you wanna do is antagonize someone putting a needle in you— but after one particularly painful bit of windshield wiper subdermal probing, I finally burst out, "You're 90 degrees to the vein...I've never seen anyone do that before!"

Still, apart from that, I kept up my Model Patient persona pretty well. At the end, when one of the women said, "Thanks for being so patient," I replied with a firm, "Thanks for sticking with me... pun intentional."

I'm honestly impressed. Both elbows feel like I've been assaulted by Woody Woodpecker, but it took a dedicated team effort to outdo the phlebotomist who left me with major bruises and visible needle marks at my high school graduation 35 years ago.

Now, how to bribe the vet who draws blood from my cat into practicing human medicine without a license.

[iviarellereads]

Artificial Condition, Chapter 4

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the real work begins.

I came back online to find I was at 26 percent capacity, but the percentage was climbing slowly. Bands of pain circled my knee and elbow joints, so intense I couldn’t process it. My human skin itched. And I was leaking. I hate that.(1)

It can't focus enough to play media, and even small movements make it worse. It wishes it had enacted one of its plans to incapacitate Art. The process of healing is like being in a repair cubicle, without the cubicle's ability to shut down higher functions until repairs are complete.

At least it's not cold, though.

Eventually, its levels even out, and it can focus enough to turn down its own pain sensor. At 75 percent capacity, it tries to sit up. MedSystem starts throwing warnings, and Art says there's no need to move yet. But, it's been scanning newsfeed archives from the time of the RaviHyral incident, and asks if MB wants to know what it's found. MB eases back down grumpily, leaking from a new place, and tells Art it can read search results. Art suggests MB take advantage of its expertise in data analysis.(2)

MB agrees, with ire, and Art says the incident took place in a particular installation called Ganaka Pit, with fifty-seven fatalities caused by equipment failure. When MB doesn't respond, Art says that MB's initial assumption was correct after all, the incident did occur, and they can proceed to investigation.

MB wants to shut down, but it would affect the healing process. Art asks if it wants to watch media. MB doesn't respond, but Art starts playing an episode of Sanctuary Moon.(3)

When it's able to get off the platform, at first it falls, but by the end of the cycle it's more or less back to normal. It even uses the human cleaning facility, so it smells unsettlingly like a clean human at the end. The hair now growing from its skin might cause issues putting on a suit skin, but humans put them on with a minimum of complaint, so it can't be that bad.

MB goes to the recreation space and tests itself on the exercise machines and treadmill, even aiming (though not firing) its weapons to be sure nothing's out of alignment.

It looks in the mirror for a long time. It figures out exactly why it didn't want to do the procedure.

It would make it harder for me to pretend not to be a person.(4)

They arrive at RaviHyral on schedule. Art grabs a map, and MB realizes it's been altered since the accidents, to hide the Ganaka Pit installation's location. Concealing what happened would be high on the company's priorities, so maybe they paid the bond quickly to get the client's help minimizing information and access to the site. Either way, MB will have to figure out where Ganaka Pit is, or was, before it can go there.

The next obstacle is the shuttle from the transit ring to RaviHyral itself. Only people with employment passes can board the shuttles, zero tourism. MB starts catastrophe-planning, but Art suggests that if someone hired MB as a consultant, it would have employment, and a pass. MB asks if Art is insane, but Art has watched its humans hire consultants, and it can help MB. And look, there's an ad for a security consultant position available now.

MB links into Art's comm so Art can ride with it, but as it leaves, its efficiency drops to 96% right off. It checks the entertainment feeds to try to calm down, as it hacks its way through the embarkation security. It has a location and a time for a meeting about the consultant gig, and on the way it notices that there's not nearly as much crowding, and Art's modifications start to feel like a necessity after the fact.

MB finds the humans in the food court just fine. Two women and a tercera, a gender signifier used in a particular non-corporate political entity.(5) MB had to hack the thankfully vulnerable system to backdate its arrival and marked its gender as indeterminate, to set up the meeting.

The humans look nervous. MB introduces itself as Eden, their contact, having stolen borrowed the name of a character from Sanctuary Moon.(6) The tercera introduces terself and ter companions as Rami, Tapan, and Maro respectively, and makes a gesture Art confirms for MB is an invitation to sit. MB spends most of a page describing them, and notes that they're all very young for adults.

MB can see that it's going to have to help move this conversation along, so it says-asks if they want to hire a security consultant, even knowing the answer is yes from the ad. Maro suggests moving to a more secure location. MB initiates a glitch in the local surveillance, and Art helps erase it and the whole table from perception and recordings, then MB assures the humans they're not being recorded. Rami is startled and asks if MB did something, but MB just repeats that it's a security consultant. Its panic level starts to drop, partly because the humans are nervous, and it's used to dealing with nervous humans.(7)

Tapan gets the implication and asks if MB is "spliced" with extra feed access in its augments. MB says yes, among other things. Maro worries they can't afford someone of that caliber, but Rami says they'll have plenty to pay with if they can get their data back. While Art looks up pay scales for security consultants, MB asks why they need its help.

Rami looks at the other two, and at their nods, explains that they and four others in their group do mineral research and tech development, and were working for Tlacey Excavations. The terms of the contract seemed too good to be true, but they took it hoping they'd have time to develop their own tech on the side for detecting synthetic element traces left by dead alien civilizations. Only, they were terminated with no notice and Tlacey stole all their personal work as well as the work they'd been paid for. They even deleted current versions of files off their devices, they only had outdated offsite backups. They filed a complaint, but it's taking ages to go through.

MB offers that they should go to a solicitor, thinking how the company was never so careless as to delete files off personal devices when datamining. Rami says they considered a solicitor, but they're not in the union, so it would be too expensive. Tlacey gave them an offer yesterday, though, that if they returned the signing bonuses, they could get the files back.

MB gathers that they don't trust Tlacey, and Maro confirms it, but the group still wants to go to the meeting. MB can't imagine a good outcome from it, but this is exactly the job it's designed for.

MB asks if they think there's something Tlacey wants out of the meeting besides killing them. Maro makes a gesture that's vaguely threatening until Art identifies it as emphatic agreement. Rami says the work was incomplete, but Tlacey must have been listening on the security feeds and thought they were closer than they were to done. They might have realized the progress isn't worth anything without the team to finish it.

Essentially, Tapan is optimistic, Maro is pessimistic equivalent to MB, and Rami is the undecided tiebreaker. This is why they wanted to hire "Eden", to help and show they have backup.

MB accepts the job, and Maro asks how much it charges. Art offers spreadsheets, but MB asks how much they were getting paid, and asks for their daily rate. Rami is surprised at the lowball, and MB can't correct the mistake, but decides to give them a partial truth to explain it: it needs the employment pass to go to RaviHyral. Tapan asks why, and when Rami nudges her, she clarifies she knows they don't have a right to ask, but she's asking anyway. MB is a little unsettled to realize it's the first time that's ever applied to it, and offers some more truth: it has research to do for another client.

At that, the team agrees to put in for the employment shuttle pass, and they separate with a promise to meet again the next day. MB promptly goes back to Art, and they spend three hours calming it down watching serials.

ART monitored the transit ring’s alert feed in case someone had realized what I was, but there was nothing. I told you so, ART said. Again. I ignored it. I hadn’t been detected, so now it was time to think about the rest of the plan. Which now involved keeping my new clients alive.

=====

(1) Nothing worse than organic bits leaking, amirite? (2) Art is being a Good Friend, not getting grumpy with MB or calling it childish for not being at full function. Good Art. (3) See? Good friend! MB is not the only benevolent non-human consciousness in this universe and I'm so pleased it found a friend like Art. (4) Which is part of the point… but it's also a huge turning point for MB's life. After four years of confined-freedom, it can now have a much truer form. It's leaving everything it knew behind, and that's scary as heck even without all the trauma MB carries and is making itself face up to. (5) And, here, the reason I never went too deep on Murderbot as agender representation being a construct/robot. We're kind of overrepresented by non-humans like aliens and robots, it's very true true, but there are nonbinary humans in this universe as well. They're just not the main characters, for obvious reasons. (6) We get our names from everywhere when we change them. Some flip as close to the gender of their birth name as possible, some choose a name that speaks to them, and sometimes you take the first name that comes to mind that you think you'll respond to appropriately in public. (7) Lots of familiar ground in this scene for it.