#the issue is my intrusive thoughts Also Know that i am soft & are currently making mincemeat of my mental sanctity

[haunted-catboy]

Currently debating whether walking into a place w a bat definitely there is worse than staying home where a bat is not but I will be haunted not knowing if my family got bit &/or scratched by a bat

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Writing smut without cringing the whole time? How do you do it.

Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW RELATED CONTENT BELOW.

The short answer, nonnie, is: you don’t. 

That is to say, writing smut is always kind of cringe—especially if you’re new to it, or simply “not in the mood” to write. 

But rest assured, feeling embarrassed is completely natural. The trick is learning how to overcome the cringe when it does happen, instead of letting it deter you.

I’m going to break this up into a few sections: 1) Why you might be feeling this way, 2) How I, personally, combat the issue, and 3) Some more tips that might help you get the ball rolling.

1. Why You “Cringe”

It’s important to find the root cause of any form of writer’s block so you can pull the weed out instead of just trimming it back. Smut writer’s block is its own special brand, and generally, the main issue writers have when it comes to smut is stigma.

Speaking openly and honestly about sex, in Western society, is still very much a taboo.

No matter how “progressive” we like to think we are, the inherent shame surrounding pleasure-seeking experiences, and the detailing/consumption of them, has been ground into us since we learned how to understand the concept of gratification.

And I’m not just talking about sexual gratification. This applies to everyday things, as well. Eating, shopping, relaxing (or doing virtually anything in capitalist society that does not directly contribute to capitalism).

So it makes sense that you would feel any amount of embarrassment, awkwardness, or “cringe” when writing smut. It’s something our society teaches us is wrong to want. Unfortunately, that shame translates to writer’s block when we sit down in front of the computer.

A lot of this blockage might stem from not giving ourselves permission to write the thing.

We’re staring at the blank document, knowing we want to write smut, and suddenly the thoughts start streaming in: This feels wrong, is this wrong? What if someone comes in and looks over my shoulder while I’m writing? Am I describing this right? Is this too unrealistic? I have NO idea what I’m doing, and everyone is going to know it.

These are all perfectly normal thoughts, and definitely ones I still have from time to time. But they’re also probably the direct cause of why you feel so blocked. Luckily, I have some bits of advice to give you on how to unblock yourself.

2. How I Combat Smut Block

✦ First, when the intrusive thoughts occur, instead of ruminating on them, think of each one as an impermanent object. You can use any metaphor, but I like to use the imagery of leaves:

Each negative thought is a leaf floating down the river of your mind. If you focus only on the leaf, you’ll exert a lot of energy running to try and keep up with it, consequently miss everything else around you. But if you acknowledge that leaf as a temporary part of the scenery, and let is pass, you can process and appreciate the beauty of your surroundings a whole lot better.

Remember: you are separate from your thoughts. You are not defined by them. The things you think sound stupid might be incredibly exciting to someone else. 

If you can string a sentence together, you can write smut. This is all part of giving yourself permission to write the thing that makes you feel uncomfortable.

✦ Second, I’d suggest giving good thought to how you personally experience embarrassment, how you experience excitement (of the sexual variety), and how those two might sometimes commingle or feel similar.

For me, they are very comparable, like different shades of the same emotion—but there are differences which are important to note. 

If I’m making myself blush from excitement, this is a very good thing for writing smut. It means that what I’m writing feels real enough to evoke something in the reader, even if the reader, like me, knows what’s going to happen.

If I’m making myself cringe, however, it may be time to take a step back and readjust my perspective.

✦ Third, ease yourself into it! Don’t jump straight in the deep end and expect to know how to keep your head above water if you’ve never swum before.

The way I eased myself into smut was first by writing “Steam”—a category of fic I made up because the current vocabulary lacked an efficient term for fics that straddled emotional romance and explicit content. 

Essentially, steam is smut-adjacent but not explicit, and here’s a step-by-step example of how I transitioned myself smoothly from one genre to the next:

I first wrote my fics Wicked Game and You Are (both of which feature either a heavy make out session or teasing + lots of sexual tension) with this “steam” concept in mind.

I wrote the first chapter of Fine Line, which has brief but explicit descriptions of fantasies, framed by a very sexually charged scene.

I released my fic Crashing, which is probably more of a bridge between Steam and Smut, and features soft-focus fingering. Nothing in it is explicit—it focuses more on the emotions than explicit detail—but it’s very clear what is happening.

After I wrote those, I felt just confident enough to make that final stride over the threshold into smut. I wrote my fics Holy, King, and the second chapter of Fine Line all within weeks of each other.

And trust me when I say, once you get the momentum going and receive that validation from people who’ve read your work, it becomes SO much easier to sit down and start writing. 

You just have to finish that first piece.

✦ Finally (and I know I’m going to sound cliche when I say this), just like any other skill, the more you practice the more confident you will feel and the better you will get. 

So practice, practice, practice! 

If you’re nervous about posting smut for the first time, have a trusted friend/mutual Beta read it for you. It’s the online equivalent to someone holding your hand before jumping off the cliff, and works wonders for the nerves.

3. Keep The Smut Rolling

Now that you have some tools to help get you past the blockage of writing smut, here’s how to keep the inspiration flowing.

✦ Start by incorporating smutty fanfiction/erotic fiction into your regular reading rotation- 

Of course AO3 is a fantastic resource for smutty fanfiction. 

If you’re a fan of TFOTA or ACOTAR and want some of my personal fic recs, visit my fic rec masterlist.

In terms of erotic fiction, my personal favourites are anything Anais Nin (specifically Henry & June and Delta of Venus), The Thornchapel series by Sierra Simone, The Godwicks series by Tiffany Reisz, and The Original Sinners series by Tiffany Reisz.

There are also sites like Literotica and sexstories.com, which play host to explicit short fiction (not fandom based).

✦ Next, I’d recommend having a designated digital space for smutspiration- 

This can be a list of “smutty” words/phrases kept on a separate document on your computer, for those days when you just can’t think of the right way to describe something. 

Or you can create a private side-blog or Pinterest board for your favourite smutty fanart or other kinds of visual smutspiration.

✦ For that matter, try following some smutty/18+ blogs (ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+) here on Tumblr-

Many of them have a plethora of what I like to call “lemony snippets”, a.k.a. short text posts that describe (usually in conversational language) explicit scenarios. 

This is useful because it will normalise the concept of sexual fantasies in your brain, making it less weird for you when you try to come up with ones of your own to write into smut. 

Not to mention, your dash will be rife with inspiration.

✦ I would also suggest checking out 18+ ASMR on YouTube (AGAIN, ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+). 

My favourite account is Professor Cal Official, but Auralescent also has some good content. 

Headphones are highly advisable for this, as their stuff is very dangerous for work.

So, nonnie, I hope this has provided you with at least one helpful tip. Whether you took anything away from this or not, just know that the feelings of embarrassment when it comes to writing smut are entirely normal. And the best way to keep those feelings at bay is to confront them head on. 

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Advice Masterlist

Writing Masterlist

2K Celebration!

[jj-5656]

🎄Fa-la-la-late🎄 With; Diego Hargreeves

A/N:Ummmm...hello? First off, thank you all so much for the love on my last couple imagines. Sorry for the hiatus, what can I say junior year is as hard as they say it is. Anyway, I was supposed to be sleeping last night but I was writing this instead. Leave it to me to become inspired at the worst times. This is for everyone celebrating a holiday this year without your family because of the pandemic (which is still a thing btw.) Also, this is very long but I love it. Okay enough talking, enjoy!

TW: None except...Well, Klaus is Klaus. And more random POV change bc I can!

He’s running, sprinting really, brown bag tucked haphazardly under his arm as it’s contents jostle around inside with his movements. Filled with last minute groceries for the evenings event. Never in Diego Hargreeves’ life had he thought he’d be rushing home in preparations for a Christmas party, in a red sweater for that matter. But what can he say, a year into his relationship with her and he’s officially whipped. Ever since the two of you met you had introduced him to an enormity of things he’d never considered important. Whether it be birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, you’ve added so much more to him that he could never really repay you for. So, he figures making a very last minute trip to the ever so crowded grocery store on Christmas Eve is worth it. Having to deal with other crazed and unprepared city people for three types of cheeses, four types of crackers, and a particularly expensive bottle of wine.

Apparently a Christmas party, or any get together for that matter, is simply incomplete without an assortment of appetizers. Right, Diego Hargreeves hosting a Christmas party for his siblings. The same ones who only learned about holidays in their World Culture textbooks during hours sectioned off on their daily regimen instead of actually celebrating them. The biting cold reminds him of the lonely Christmas’ throughout his life, which was at the time any other day of the year to him. He snaps out of the dark thoughts when he realizes he’s made it up the stairs and to the front door, a chorus of clanging pots and curses coming from inside.

He fumbles through the door, reminding himself he’s supposed to be rushing, but the beautifully decorated apartment distracts him from the task at hand. The warm feeling he’s still getting used to fluttering through his stomach as he recalls when you first surprised him with the holiday decor.

“It’s not too much, right? I know you never really celebrated Christmas, and neither of us are religious but my family always made the holidays a big deal and I thought-”

“You did all this?” His brown eyes are wide, gazing up at the assortment of twinkling lights aligning the interior of your shared home, a beautiful tree full of red and green ornaments in the middle of your living room. It’s stunning, to say the least, and Diego’s sure he’s never felt so much at home as he does now.

You’re gazing up at him, eyes nervously darting between your boyfriend and the assortment of ornaments. He walks forward from the entryway to admire the garland above the fireplace and the evergreen that just barely scruffs the top of the ceiling. It’s all new to him, and a bit overwhelming, and suddenly Diego realizes the resentment he’s held toward the holiday ever since he was a child was completely misguided. Because the joy he feels now, the warmth tingling throughout his body is foreign but so comforting.

“You hate it, don’t you? Listen, I just thought maybe I’d try and show you Christmas isn’t all about consumerism and selling shitty-”

“It’s beautiful.” He interrupts again, and you swear there’s a moisture begging to leave his eyes as he finally looks to you with an awed expression.

“I don’t, I’ve never...I always hated Christmas. I guess because I never had a real family as a kid. But this, this is j-just...Thank you.”

*End Flashback*

“You’re late!” You shout as the front door bursts open, a familiar thud of boots kicking snow off their bottoms and then walking towards the kitchen. Diego walks in with hands full with groceries, hair wet and messy with flurries of snow littering the raven strands. You narrow your eyes at the sight of him, dopey smile on his face as he sets the bags down on the counter.

“What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d still be grumpy at the fact that we’re hosting.” You’re less than presentable at the moment, having been cooking all day and leaving getting yourself ready for last minute. You puff a stray hair out of your face as he responds.

“Nothing, and actually I am still upset that my siblings are coming over.” He leans against the counter as you unpack the groceries, eager to finish up so you can look a little less crazy when the remaining Hargreeves arrive. Diego is still staring at you, grinning fondly at how flustered you look. And although he’d rather not have you meet his brothers and sister, you deserve to know why he’s keeping you from meeting. After all, it’s been a year since you’ve been together, and he’s met your family already.

It’s different though, because although they too have their issues, your family isn’t a dysfunctional pack of emotionally-stunted freaks. He’d much rather protect you from their intrusive antics. The warm feeling fades as he realizes what’s to come. He appreciates your optimism, truly, but he suddenly can’t shake the feeling that they’ll manage to upset you and ultimately screw up what you’ve been preparing for all day.

“A little help please?” You ground him once more, gesturing to the bags beside the both of you and the assortment of trays of food on the counters. Diego grabs onto your sides when you try to brush past him to check on the turkey, ignoring your incredulous look as he presses his body against yours.

“There’s still time to call this all off, you know. We can watch all the cheesy Christmas movies you want, and have dinner all to ourselves.” His eyes are hopefully looking into yours, the persuasion in his tone hinting a part of him isn’t really joking.

“Absolutely not. Di, we’ve been together for a year now. I want to get to know your siblings. Besides, you met my family and they loved you!”

“That’s different y/n, you’re family is...Well, they’re not like mine! You guys are normal! My brother is a moon-obsessed, half monkey moron and my sister is a mind-controlling movie star.” You can’t help but giggle at his words even though his frustration is adamant. He backs away from your embrace and runs his a hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself down. The sudden thought of one of them being too pushy or making you upset is overwhelming him now. If it’s one thing he’d like to keep you from, it’s the bad side of him his siblings tend to bring out.

“Diego.” Your voice is soft now, you’re using that love-laced tone that always makes him feel like he’s melting. He shivers as you get closer to him, still somehow getting used to the effect you have on him. And although you don’t notice, you seem to be aware you’re calming him down. “I’m scared too, I don’t want to mess something up or embarrass myself in front of them. Hell, your little-or...Older brother is a time traveling assassin who’s kind of a genius. It’s intimidating definitely, but they’re your family Di. I know you hate to admit it, but they’ve played a huge role in who you are. And even if a lot of times you resent each other, it’s clear you love them.”

He’s gotta admit, you’ve always had a way with words. “Fine, what can I do to help beautiful?”

“you can start with setting the table so I can get ready and actually look beautiful. And use the good China!” You plant a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing off to the bedroom, silently praying the anxious won’t drop a plate or two in the process.

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

“Baby, does red or white wine go with tur-woah.” You’re doing some finishing touches on your makeup when Diego walks in, honey brown eyes shamelessly looking over your figure with a smirk as he now leans against the door frame.

You roll you eyes at his ogling, but can’t help smoothing down the silky olive green fabric of the dress your wearing with a pleased smile. Gold jewelry adorns your neck and ears, with matching gold heels to bring the look together. The red of his sweater (he so stubbornly obliged to wearing) compliments the green you're wearing beautifully. A year ago, Diego wonders just how much it would take him to put on anything other than black.

“Cmon, they’ll be here any minute.”

As if I’m cue, the doorbell of the apartment rings. You rush to the front door, Diego trailing behind as he reminds himself how important the evening is to you.

“And remember, no knives.” You whisper to him, turning back around and opening the door.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” Klaus pushes through the entryway excitedly, tackling you in a hug in greeting. Luckily, you’ve already met the most eccentric sibling of the bunch. As he often crashes at your place, much to Diego’s disliking (or so he says).

“My my my, that dress is to die for! I’ll be borrowing that soon. And those heels! Please tell me we’re the same siz-”

“Alright bonehead, you can steal her stuff later. Take yourself and the booze to the kitchen.” Diego interrupts, shrugging when you slap his shoulder at his bluntness.

Greeting the rest of the family goes better than expected. Allison and Luther arrived together (an innocent carpool of course) whilst Vanya had come just a few minutes after Klaus, happy to see she wasn’t the first to arrive. She brought along with her a homemade dish, Allison with a top notch bottle of champagne, and Five with a box of Griddy’s  donuts and...Coffee? His odd choice of food making the perfect ice breaker, to his confusion of course. 

“Alright, enough small talk. Diego, how much are you paying this lovely lady to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Klaus interjects your conversation about current events as the rest of the table looks to the pair of you and laughs. 

“Seriously, Allison couldn’t even rumor someone to be this good of a cook,” Luther chimes in. Not having looked up from his plate for a majority of the meal.

Although slightly offended, Diego realizes his siblings have a valid point. You’re blushing crimson as you laugh along, shaking your head and nervously rambling on about when you just last week almost burnt the apartment down trying to perfect said recipes. He’s entranced as you speak, admiring the way you seem to capture all of them with unknown ease. Unknown, truly, because you’re still too modest to see how perfect you are. He doesn’t deserve you, but he’ll spend every day trying to even out the impossible score. It's known he can be quite the competitor. 

“I’m just shocked he’s out of black for once.”

“Says the 45 year old in a school uniform!”

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

“Alright, I’ll clear up dinner so we can start dessert.” Y/n announces, just in time to halt a three-way argument between her boyfriend, Luther and Five about some Academy mission from when they were kids. The evening has been lighthearted for the most part, with a majority of the conflict being steered off by Allison or Vanya. The two practically experts at distracting their egotistical brothers. You catch on as they do so, the three of you having shared a few sly smirks between one another a few times throughout the meal. 

“Please y/n, let me. You’ve done more than enough tonight. Besides, I need someone to test out that wine for me.” Allison assures, kicking Diego’s shin and motioning to the kitchen when you’ve given her an appreciative smile and inquired Vanya on her violin skills. 

Allison’s knife wielding brother shoots her a look of shock at her actions, trailing along confusedly after her. Your empty plate and his own in hand as he sets them down in the sink. 

“What the hell? Why-where-you-hiding-her-from-us!) The curly haired woman emphasizes each word with a smack of a stray dish towel to his arm, sure nobody can hear them over Klaus’ obnoxious storytelling back in the dining room. 

“Quit it! I wasn’t hiding her I-I was protecting her from you shitheads.” Diego defends, once again bewildered by his sister’s playful outburst. 

“Diego! She’s amazing, you should’ve introduced us forever ago.” 

“Right, she’s amazing. What do you not get by the word protecting? If you all had met her any sooner you would have scared her off!” He flails his arms as he speaks, unaware of his flushed cheeks as his sister smiles fondly at him. 

“What now Allison?”

“You loooveee her.” She poke his side as she teases, chuckling again when he swats her arm away. The scene is childish, but something about the heat rising through his neck to the tips of his ears makes Diego feel like a kid again. Allison teasing him about girls, just as they had when they were young. 

“Wh-whatever. Yeah, I love her. Can we go back to the table now, or should we paint our nails and giggle about how totes adorbs Luther Looks in that coat?” They both laugh at his mocking, leaving the room and too giddy to remember the discarded plates left behind. 

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

“An espresso machine? Wow, Columbia-brewed K-cups too! You shouldn’t have y/n.” Five is beaming at the gift in hand, wrapping paper still hanging off the side of the box as he admires the machine. His siblings stare confusedly at his jolly demeanor, and he immediately clears his throat before giving said girl a curt nod. “Thanks.” He deadpans, and you laugh with a nod at his change in demeanor. 

Luther and Allison have already opened their gifts, the burly man pointing to his miniature moon replica and lecturing about the craters and valleys to an extremely bored Klaus. Allison has already put on the elegant gold charm bracelet you’ve given her, rolling charm with Claire’s initials and birthstone on it with glossy eyes. Beside her, Vanya delicately peels the wrapping off to a freshly polished violin case, her name inscribed in cursive on the top. 

“It’s beautiful. I-I’m so sorry we didn’t get you anything. If I had known-”

“Nonsense V, I’m just glad you could all make it tonight.” You reassure with genuine smile, glad to see her positive response to the nickname. 

“I still can’t believe you got them gifts.” Diego mumbles from behind you, having climbed over the back of the couch you’re all sat on to have you sit between his legs. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around your middle, softly humming when yo lean into him. The fireplace is crackling, and the record payer you love dearly quietly plays a Perry Como Christmas album. You close your eyes, taking in the warm feeling and relaxing in Diego’s touch. The two of you jumping when a shout comes from beside you.

“My turn! My turn!” Klaus claps loudly to grab your attention. You chuckle at his childish ways, leaning down to pick up the wrapped present at your feet and handing it off to him. Unlike the others, he eagerly rips apart the wrapping, gasping dramatically when he lifts up the skirt. 

“You’re a bit hard to shop for, there’s a gift receipt if-” The excitable man scrambles up from the floor tug on the fabric, twirling around in it in a fit of giggles before you can finish your statement. 

“Great, he’ll never take that off.” Diego mumbles in your ear, you shake your head with a smirk at his teasing before you’re reminded of something.

“Oh! And one more thing.” You note suddenly, climbing out of Diego’s hold as he huffs reluctantly. You pull a a final present from under the tree, secretly handing it to Klaus to make sure the others don’t see. Though they’re too enveloped in conversation to noticed.

“Another one for me?” He whispers happily, eyes furrowing when you shake your head. Sitting back down in Diego’s arms before you explain. 

“No, well...Yes, sort of. You’ll see.” You ramble, gesturing to the box in his hands as he apprehensively chuckles. You feel Diego’s eyes on you, deciding to place a peck on his jaw instead of elaborating. 

Klaus pulls out a pair of books, readig the well-known titles before looking up at you. You motion to the box once more, biting your nail as he sets them aside and reaches in once more. He pulls out  picture frame with a sharp intake of breathe, hand going over his mouth as he looks up at you once more. Your boyfriend, eager to see what has silenced his rowdy brother, takes the frame to inspect it. 

It’s a picture of him, Klaus, and Ben on the front steps of the academy. Having to be only five or six in the photo. Klaus has an arm around Ben, smiling big for the camera as his brother offers a smaller, but no less genuine grin to the lens. Diego sits a step above them, mouth frozen open in a laugh as he must of been reaction to something only Klaus could make him react so much at. 

“I remember Di telling me Ben read a lot. And...Well, it felt wrong to get everyone else a gift but him. Those are two of my favorit-”

“Wh-Where did you find this?” Diego whispers, arms encircled even tighter around you as he holds up the frame in shock. 

“When we were moving in. I found it at the bottom of one of the shelves at your room at the gym. It was under a bunch of old books you had, I figured it could use a frame.” Just as you finish, Klaus practically tackles you in a hug, a soft hiccup coming from him when he pulls away. 

“Geez Klaus, it’s just a skirt!” 

“Can-it Luther!”

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

“You think he’ll be alright?” You mutter from the bedroom hallway. You and Diego leaning against the wall, looking at Klaus whose passed out on the sofa. The others having left hours ago, but you simply couldn’t wake him at seeing how peaceful he was. The picture frame still tucked to his chest as he snored softly. 

“Trust me, he’s fine. I think he’ll be sleeping in that skirt every night from now on.” Diego pulls you to your bedroom door as you laugh, the exhaustion from today finally setting. 

“Hey, would you look at that? Mistletoe.” Your head trails upwards to gaze up at the fruit being dangled above your head as you grin.

“Those are grapes Di.”

“Are they? Hmm, must be from that stupid cheese board I had to run across town for.” 

“It’s a chacuterie, actually. Didn’t you learn French Hargreeves?”

“Yep, but I only seem to remember two words.”

“Oh really? And what might those be?”

“Embrasse moi” He finishes as he connects his lips with yours, holding your face as if you might slip away when he lets go. 

“Smooth, knife boy.” You pull away softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Merry Christmas Di.”

[snivellussnoop]

He Wished a Lot of Things

A trans Snape/Snupin one-shot (which you can also find here on my AO3 and here on my Wattpad!)

On a side note, why do we only do trans Snape stuff for a single week? Let’s make this bitch year-round.

Word count: 2804

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

He saw them first in his second year as the boy stepped out of the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist and his chest entirely exposed. Beneath the long black hair, whose water-dripping tendrils had been strategically placed over his chest, Remus Lupin could have sworn he had just laid his eyes upon two long, red scars.

The image kept him awake at times. He never asked; he knew Severus Snape was touchy to talk to in the first place, and scars — which he knew from personal experience — were even touchier. So he kept himself quiet, feeling different about the boy from then on, wondering about the newfound mystery of him every time their eyes met from across a classroom. But the question remained, and so did the scars.

‘How did you get them?’ he scrawled eventually on a piece of parchment after weeks of grappling with the thought, passing the letter casually across the long table in the Charms room and slipping it under his thin fingers. It took what felt like years to get a simple reply; one in such elegant cursive that his own handwriting looked like aimless ink above it.

‘Get what?’

Such a fruitless answer. But Remus wasn’t expecting much else. He tagged along almost every day as his friends taunted the boy; of course his responses would be slow and guarded.

‘The scars,’ he wrote back, and then, because he knew that Severus was more often injured by others than by accidents, he revised his question. ‘Who did it to you?’

He watched in anticipation as Snape contemplated the words, scribbling something below them but not giving the square of parchment back. The wait was endless. The class was the longest Remus had ever attended.

But he was answered when they left the classroom as the hour marked the end of the lecture, Severus catching him by the door and shoving the piece of paper back into his grip.

“Biology did this to me, Remus,” he said plainly. “Now get out of my way.”

Snape pushed past Lupin, his green-accented robes flowing behind as he hurried down the hall. Remus watched in puzzlement, slowly unfolding the parchment and wondering what the boy’s answer was even supposed to mean. Biology gave him scars? He couldn’t have been born with them; they looked far too fresh.

Looking down at the parchment, Remus gave a small laugh. Severus had taken the past thirty minutes to draw a werewolf in the bottom lefthand corner, tongue lolled out, heart-eyed as it reached up at the moon. The moon, which Remus noted with another charmed giggle, wore a subtle frown in its center.

He didn’t ask about the scars again for years.

—

He saw them again in the courtyard, but really only because he was looking for them. They had faded a lot since Year Two, and he wouldn’t have noticed had he not previously known.

James Potter had picked another brawl with him, and, in embarrassment after realising that he was losing, had hexed the boy’s shirt off. His hair, shoulder-length now, wasn’t long enough to conceal the traces that were left, and Remus found himself staring. Studying. Almost forgetting where he was. He tried to piece together the puzzle of the two faint red lines across Snape’s ribs, following them from left to right, over and over, looped like a scratched record.

And this didn’t go unnoticed. Severus Snape, trying his best not to squirm under the humiliating attention, stared back.

Remus looked away.

—

“Why do you have scars?”

He had found him in the library, sitting in the farthest aisle from the entry, completely empty aside from the two of them and the slight traces of a mild mouse problem.

Severus narrowed his eyes, slipping a ribbon in to mark his current progress in his book and turning around to face Lupin with a look of blank scorn.

“Since when did the lore behind my physical attributes become your affair?” he hissed. “It isn’t difficult to avoid inquiry about a potentially sensitive subject.”

“Mm,” Remus replied, less morally driven than his usual as he remained phlegmatic against the very fair point. “Luckily, the nerves on one’s chest are often not very sensitive at all, causing related issues to not hurt much in the least aside from inward intrusion.”

“Insightful,” Severus replied snarkily, closing his book and tucking it under his arm. “Charming that my skin is so important to you. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you were interested.”

He stood up, and Remus, although towering over him in terms of height, felt suddenly very small.

“But I am interested,” he choked out, clearly missing the meaning behind the term. Snape closed his eyes and sighed with a deep and tired sense of resignation.

“My scars were put there by none other than myself,” he replied. “Don’t be concerned by this; I’m not actively suicidal and the process was beneficial, if anything. Incredibly safe.”

And he left. Remus said nothing. Somehow, although given more information, the situation became even more cryptic, and he understood less and less as he went.

But that was what Snape was. To him, anyway, the boy was an enigma first and an interest second. There was nothing else to it, and nothing else to him. Ambiguity and nothing else. Ambiguity and scars.

—

Remus saw Severus again at the Yule Ball, not like he was difficult to spot, being the only person there in all black, a sleek tunic covering his scarred frame.

“You really went for a new look, didn’t you?” he found himself asking snidely, smirking at the lack of change in his clothing. “That shade of black is just a touch lighter than usual. That’s a big step for you.”

“That shade of unwelcome involvement still hasn’t left your repertoire, however,” Severus was quick to reply. “I’ve been here for three minutes and you’ve shown up already. I should have stayed back and studied like I wanted to.”

A reply left Lupin’s lips before he could filter it out. It was disjointed, random, almost desperate, hitting them both head-on and leaving Severus more shocked than he’d ever inherently been.

“Dance with me.”

There was a silence, the soft motion of a punch glass being set down on tablecloth, and a shocked verbal receipt.

“What?”

Remus knew he couldn’t back out of his own words. He was too timid; too stubborn to admit to anything as a fault.

Giving a slight bow, he held out his hand as the music picked up. An offering, for once, that wasn’t ill-intended.

Tentatively, like a lamb accepting slaughter, the boy’s hand slipped into his.

—

“Potter can’t know.”

Snape whispered it through feverish kisses, leaning back against a pillar in the corridor as Remus lost sight of his own reserve, grasping at his shoulders, his hair, anything he could possibly bring closer to himself.

“James,” he corrected, pulling them both around the corner in the hall as he noticed the faint sound of a stray student’s footsteps, “won’t suspect a thing.”

—

“Good riddance to this bloody school,” Remus heard Sirius scoff as they packed their suitcases for the last time, all carrying diplomas and wearing flashy hats. Remus always found the hats silly, but he saw now why people were so fond of them when they left.

“Is James already back home? I know Peter left last night and I haven’t seen either of them since,” Lupin said, opening the dorm dresser drawers and forcing the last of his sweaters inside his case.

“Yeah. I think they took the last available train together yesterday,” Black replied. “Shame. We could have all left together like the years before. Like old times. This is the last time we’ll be leaving as students, you know.”

A small crunch came from under one of Lupin’s sweaters as he nodded in response. “Yeah,” he said. “Shame indeed. I’ll miss these memories. This school. It’s become my home, you know. And these last few hours…”

Pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment from under his sweater, Remus paused as he saw a faded pair of handwriting styles and a silly illustration of a werewolf. His heart jumping in his chest, he put the drawing back under the sweater and closed his suitcase, picking it up and preparing to leave.

“…this is it.”

Sirius took their things to be loaded onto the train. Remus himself spent a good hour wandering the halls, so empty, so familiar, wishing them all a sincere goodbye. He scanned the small groups of people that were still left, hoping somewhere in the back of his head that the artist of the drawing under his shirt would still be in the building somewhere.

He wanted to speak to him. To ask him about what he would be doing in the war. To offer his address; to offer connection. But he didn’t find the boy anywhere, nor did he find a trace of him. No vandalised books, no cursive notes, and nobody in a sleek black tunic.

He was told by Horace Slughorn to check the library. He thanked him, but insincerely; he’d already looked there, and it was empty.

—

If he knew where Snape resided, he would have shown up. Written, at least. But all he had was the drawing. That was all he had for years. For a long time, he wasn’t even sure the man still existed.

November of 1981 left him connectionless and alone. He felt himself slipping into nothing, the sand of eternity slowly rising over his head until he couldn’t breathe. Every day was a nightmare.

He relied on the Prophet for his entertainment, for his distraction. Anything to make him forget, even for a moment. Anything at all.

And then something did make him forget that he was alone. An announcement that one couldn’t look past. That he couldn’t, anyway.

It wasn’t a major headline, but it was on the bottom left of the front page, announced in capital bold letters with a small, grainy picture too blurry to decipher.

HOGWARTS POTIONS PROFESSOR HORACE SLUGHORN REPLACED IN POSITION BY SEVERUS SNAPE

Immediately, without even thinking, Remus threw the paper on the floor, stood up, and grabbed his coat.

—

“I’d like to see Professor Snape.”

He was directed down to the dungeons, which he approached slowly, stopping for minutes on end to stare at the architecture he’d almost forgotten; the arcs and pillars that he grew up between. He didn’t need a map of this place. His feet knew the way down the spiral staircase. His very skeleton understood the path necessary for the destination of Slughorn’s old office.

He knocked on the door three times. It opened just before he could knock a fourth.

They were both still for a long time.

The response was quiet.

“Lupin.”

Remus wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave. He felt uncomfortable to be once again under the confusing gaze of Severus Snape.

“I saw your name in the Prophet,” he said plainly. “I’m… sorry to intrude. If you want me to go, I—”

“How very timidly-mannered to leave upon an inkling of silence,” Snape said, attempting to sound scornful, but his tone was weak; almost relieved. As he stepped aside to let Lupin into the room, Remus understood with a sudden sort of mental blow that Snape had just recently lost all of his connections, too.

He walked softly inside, taking one step to the left as Severus closed the door behind him. And then, jokingly:

“Potter can’t know.”

Sadly, they laughed.

—

Lupin didn’t even ask to see him anymore. He just walked right in.

Snape provided him with an extra key, one he used often for their weekly rendezvous, once leaving a toothbrush there on accident and never bothering to take it home again. Little by little, the visits became normal, essential, even. They became fueled by connection, by touch, by everything they had lost since graduation.

Little by little, they’d see more of one another. Day by day, Snape would unbutton his sleeves just a little more, finally comfortable enough to show the grotesque mark on his wrist, and Lupin would wear his shirts a little looser, exposing the scars on his neck as they led up to the ones on his jaw and nose. Closeness was their comfort, and they’d revel in it like Shakespearean kings, like Duncan of Scotland, doomed as he was, surrounded by the small joys of his imperfect world and his tarnished reign. Though their environment was muddled by blades of wilted and bloodied grass, the small fireflies within, the light that, although rare, warmed the hands and entranced the eyes like none other, were what they noticed the most.

They one day found themselves undoing the clasps of one another’s shirts, their kisses slow and even, their breaths soft. Lupin’s hands found themselves running across the bare skin of Snape’s chest, smooth, oddly hairless, comfortingly warm. His fingers found themselves on his ribcage. They lived there. And then they stopped.

Although they were almost completely invisible, his hands had found the scars. Scars that, over time, he had forgotten about. 

Running his fingers over the rough lines, he looked down at them, and then back up at Severus, who had a sudden expression of what seemed almost like terror.

Remus gave them another examination. He noticed their placement, their edges, how each one stretched in a long like under his pectorals, as if something had been above them that was removed.

And then he understood.

His breath catching in his throat, Remus realised that there was so much about this man he didn’t know. There were struggles that he and his friends had only added to. Parts of him and his life that he never got to see.

He understood then why Snape was built the way he was, why his waist was thin around the center and wider around the hips, why his neck was sleek and his collarbones strong, why his skin was smooth and had a significant lack of hair. He understood why he never saw him shaving and never noticed forgotten stubble on the curves of his jaw. He understood why he would hide his chest with his long hair after a shower; why he said that biology was what gave him these marks in the first place. He understood why he hid himself with tight, concealing clothes and why he would shy away from the connected questions.

All at once, Remus understood the scars.

Quietly, softly, he placed a hand on Snape’s back, pulling him as close as he possibly could. He watched the scared, vulnerable eyes below him and, in an instant, wished he could undo everything he and his friends had ever done to him. He wished he could have supported him; kept himself from prying. He wished a lot of things.

“They don’t define you, you know,” he said eventually, his thumb tracing Snape’s bottom lip as he stroked his hair. “It took me years to understand that about myself, but it’s true. It’s true for me, and it’s true for you.”

Severus looked like the most fragile thing on Earth.

“Do you find them distasteful?” he whispered out, leaning his face into Remus’ bare shoulders, self-directed venom behind his every syllable. “Do they drive you away, knowing about them? About why they’re here?”

“Hey,” Lupin replied, soft as he hugged him close and leaned his chin on the top of his head. “Don’t worry.”

He held him as if it was the last time he ever would. He didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let himself. Fighting back a newfound wave of emotion, he closed his eyes and wished he could articulate how little this knowledge would change anything. How Severus was just as beautiful to him as he had always been. How he didn’t care about the body he used to have or what he used to be, because, to Remus, he was still Severus Snape. He was always Severus Snape, and he always had been, and he always would be, no matter what. 

Always.

Still, words were never his strong suit. Emotions never left his lips in prose. So what he said was barely as elegant, not even close to what he wanted to communicate.

But what he said communicated it well enough, because, once he spoke them, they both turned into a crumbling mess of tears and sniffles, holding one another as tightly as they both could manage. His heart thudding in his chest, his breath hitched with a feeling he couldn’t describe, he chose a very decent thing to say. A thing that left them in a very peaceful silence for a very long time.

It was a whisper. And it was safe.

“I have scars, too.”

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt2

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

Warning: Violence and major character death.

AO3   Prologue   Beginning    Next

As she collapsed on the bed in her hotel room Marinette thanked Hawkmoth for his timing, even if she was going to kill him. She hadn’t been able to ditch Mme. Arsenau as she’d planned and had been waiting on the platform for ten minutes so she could hand her off to her fictional grandparents. When the screams started she’d sighed in relief before quickly getting lost in the crowd.

She’d been able to see the heroes in action and most of her original observations held, though watching them up close she could tell they were far more comfortable around each other than she’d originally thought. She didn’t know if it was a recent development or it simply hadn’t translated well in video. Either way it was something she’d have to account for if her plan was going to work.

Marinette got as close as she could when the Akuma was defeated to try and get an idea of the victim’s mindset. They were disoriented and confused which could be an issue, but the memory loss was especially problematic. Still too many unknowns, too much that could go wrong.

She flipped over to stare at the ceiling debating what her next course of action should be. She could hear Talia’s voice in her head even after all this time telling her she needed to know every move her target made. The problem was that if she wanted to end this quickly she didn’t have that luxury. No one knew who Hawkmoth was and he didn’t show up to fights. She could definitely call him a coward since he was not only fighting against children but also seemed to prefer to use them as victims.

The man was not a mastermind, that she was sure of. Both the choice of victims and the powers he gave them showed an almost complete lack of strategy. It was more like he was throwing whatever he could come up with at the heroes assuming he’d hit paydirt eventually. The disorganization and inefficiency grated on her nerves if she was being honest. It should make her job easier though. He would be easy to trick if she played her hand correctly.

Letting out a tired sigh she grabbed her computer and began going through her research again, adding notes and looking up everything she could find. It wasn’t much. She hated going into an op blind like this. The only saving grace was that she had a resistance to magic. When Talia had found out about it she’d done ‘testing’ to see exactly how far it went. It was an extremely unpleasant experience but Marinette now had a much better understanding of her tolerance, even if she still didn’t know exactly how she’d gained such an ability. She knew her Nona Gina had something to do with it but that was all she knew.

That magic resistance was vital to her current plan though. If it didn’t work her life and identity would be forfeit. All she had to do was keep him out of her thoughts. If she could manage that everything else would be simple. She’d give it a week to see if she could find more information. After that she needed to make a move.

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

The week passed and Marinette didn’t gain any new information. She did however find a rather large flaw in her plan and that was the fact she had far too much control over her emotions. Or maybe it was just that she’d become so numb to everything around her she couldn’t produce an emotion strong enough to tempt Hawkmoth. Whatever it was she needed a solution and fast. So she did the one thing she swore she wouldn’t do. She went to visit her parents.

The silence was oppressive. It closed in on Marinette until she was surprised she could still breathe. The air was still and calm making chills run up her spine even in the warm weather. As she walked through the grass her eyes darted everywhere looking for her target and any threats that may be out there, even though the odds of the second were astronomically low. Between her training and the feeling of unease that filled her body she couldn’t help the impulse. It took her almost an hour to find what she was looking for.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words as she knelt between two headstones. If not for her they would still be alive. If only she’d never been born, then everything would have been better. For the first time in what felt like forever she let her mind wander back to that night. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her parents names in front of her as she remembered the feeling of Damian grabbing her from behind, watching Talia come out of the shadows, and finally feeling the strings that connected her to her parents snap as their lives ended abruptly.

Her chest felt like it was in a vice and she couldn’t breathe. She heard her Papa calling her name before he was silenced as Talia’s knife slid quickly over his throat. She saw her mother try to run to her before that same blade found her heart. She heard her sobs, felt the tears on her face and couldn’t tell if it was the memory or what was happening now. She heard the soft rustle of wings and then a voice she didn’t know.

“Lady Justice, I am Hawkmoth and I can give you the power to avenge your loved ones.” Her anger spiked at the intrusion into this private moment before she remembered she had a job to do. She studied the connection and willed it to only see certain thoughts. It seemed to be working.

“No.” She felt his shock through the bond and wondered if anyone had fought him before. “I don’t want revenge. I want them back.” Silence. She could actually feel him probing her mind and gave up some memories from her childhood, back before everything had been destroyed.

“I can do that.” Now it was her turn to be shocked. Everything had limits and there was no way he could give her the power to raise the dead. Her skepticism shone through and she could feel his amusement. “Oh not currently, but if you get me the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous I can do that and more.”

“I’m just supposed to believe you? Even if what you say is true what prevents you from changing your mind once I get what you want?” After such a strong refusal upfront, she couldn’t cave in too fast and she could use this to learn more about her enemy.

“I too want to bring back a loved one. It’s why I’m doing all of this in the first place. Once I have the Miraculous it will be just as easy to bring back three as it would be to bring back one.” Marinette felt hope rise in her chest and let him feel it too. She would have crushed it immediately but she needed him to think she was on his side in this fight.

“I’ll help you but only if I get to choose my powers, and my look.” She couldn’t risk his usual brand of nonsense if she wanted to defeat the heroes. There was silence again. She wasn’t sure how long it lasted but it felt like hours.

“Deal.”

AO3   Prologue   Beginning     Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

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[builtoutoflove]

No Happy Endings

The oppressive weight of mental isolation never quite goes away when there’s no one who can relate to your issues. If you have a crush or miss your mom, people will listen to you pour your heart out. They’ll sympathize with you as you cry and tell you how to get through it. But when you’re a 20-something bisexual woman in a scarily-perfect relationship with a man who you’ve been with for your entire life but you don’t know how you’ll ever live without experiencing loving and being loved by a woman and fully immersing yourself in your queer identity, you sit in your dark living room at 2 a.m. and cry. There isn’t anyone to talk to. There is no one who will guide you and tell you everything will make sense one day. I suppose you could go to therapy, but that would require money or health insurance, neither of which your entry level 20-something job provides. So it’s back to the crying. 

It’s really dark in my small living room. No moonlight is reflected in the clean space. It’s a new moon tonight, and it amplifies the loneliness. Sometimes I imagine the moon knows. She knows the challenges I’m facing and the answers to them. She provides me with the proper reflections that get me to a better mental place. But tonight I sit, cold and truly alone. It’s so quiet, too. I feel like I’m in a sensory deprivation tank. It’s a shitty night to be deep in my gay woes. My brain is the only thing moving. 

My only way to cope with these feelings essentially gets me nowhere. I come to no conclusions, but I do escape my intrusive thoughts. It helps me to make a list of everything I feel, starting from the most immediate to the more latent. Right now, I feel sad that I’m never going to be able to touch a woman lovingly. My fingers will never cup a breast or explore another woman sexually. I’ll never kiss a woman. I’ll never have a wife. She’ll never wake me up in the morning with breakfast and I’ll never take her dancing. We won’t start a family or go on picnics or buy a house because she doesn’t exist. That life doesn’t exist for me. 

Here is where the crying generally starts. Just a slow tear or two pooling in my eyes, like my body knows to hold back for the heavier stuff. It only gets more complicated from here. 

From there I recognize that I feel guilty. The love of my life is upstairs sleeping peacefully. He’s resting in our bed, in our room, in our apartment that we share a lease on. We patiently waited for the day when we would have a home of our own where we could start our lives together. We have that now, and I am so grateful. I am unfathomably thankful for him and our animals and our life. He is truly different from any other man I have ever encountered. He is gentle and warm and loving and soft and caring. He carried me through my worst depression. I would not be here without him. Why should I want any more than this? I love my life! I love him. I’ve seen myself marrying him for ten years, and that has never changed. I hate myself for wanting...not necessarily more. Not more than him. Different than him. Different than what he can give me. He satisfies me in every way that he possibly can in our relationship. I love doing the same for him. And I feel wretched inside knowing that despite all of this perfection, my heart yearns for something else as much as it yearns for what I have. It’s not fair to him. 

More tears come, forcing themselves out of the corners of my eyes. They fall quietly down my cheeks. I am still. 

I also feel worried that I don’t actually know myself. I’ve only ever been with him. He was my first everything. I’ve only been out of the closet for two years, and I’ve only been with him since. I know that I’m attracted to mostly women. I could never see myself with another man in a serious way. I could only ever imagine sleeping with maybe three or four other men, and all but one of those men is a celebrity. I often wish that I were a lesbian, and then I worry that I am a lesbian. It would make perfect sense, and really the only evidence I have to support the idea that I’m not a lesbian is my current relationship. So I’m worried that I’m misunderstanding my identity because of the love I have for a man I’ve been with since I was 14. I’m worried that if I am a lesbian, twenty years from now I’ll ruin our marriage because I can no longer be fulfilled with what I have. 

That thought really gets the tears flowing. The idea that I could ruin everything I’ve ever wanted with him all because I might not understand myself now is excruciating. I don’t make a sound, but I’m having to blink through the tears. I wipe them away a few times, hoping to move on in clarity. 

I move on to feeling a fear, however fleeting it may be, that I have invented bisexuality and everyone else is correct. Several people in my life, both gay and straight, invalided my identity when I came out as bi. I was told that such a thing doesn’t exist, that I’d choose eventually. I never thought that was true. But at moments like these their words invade my insecure headspace. I move on from that fear quickly because obviously bisexuality is real and anyone who says otherwise is a biphobic dick, but it’s hard to ignore the idea that perhaps I’m justifying staying in my relationship despite my overwhelming attraction to women by claiming I’m attracted to my gender and other genders. I scoff at myself at this stage. 

The tears don’t last very long. I’m not really a crier, and I need to move on to more hidden feelings. I dry my face and relax. My cycle is almost finished.

At this moment, I believe the only other thing I feel is contentment. I have so many things I never dreamed I would have. I share a dwelling with my partner and our pets. I just got a new job with better hours and more money. My mother just came to visit me for a week, and that breathed life into me. I’m healthy and so is my family. My bills are paid and there’s food in the kitchen. Life is more than okay. At this moment, everything is more than okay. 

I feel relief.

Until tomorrow.

[suicidalalarmclock]

🦢 👑

III

XXX

 

Emma awoke groggily in what seemed to be her bed. She moved to sit up and froze in place upon hearing her mother’s stern voice in the background.

“The princess should not be able to slip out into the night undetected!”

Great. Now her mom was on a warpath with her handmaidens. They were sure to have severe attitudes with her for the next month.

“You don’t understand your majesty, she waits until we are asleep.”

“Give them a break mom.” Emma managed to come off unfazed though now that she was sitting up she wished she had stayed laying down. Her entire body hurts, especially her head.

“Emma!” Queen Snow’s doe eyes doubled in size upon realizing her daughter was awake.

“Emma! Why in the world were you out last night?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if your father wouldn’t have been there?” Emma’s mind still hadn’t sorted out the details of how she came to be back home in the first place and the splitting headache she was currently enduring made cohesive thought impossible.

“Mom I’m sorry-”

“And of all things to find out that you brought the former King Henry’s daughter with you? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t . . . I mean I wasn’t . . . is she okay?” Snow’s features softened. Her eyebrows no longer pulled together in a frown.

“She’s fine sweetheart don’t worry. Your father brought her back to the palace. She’s in the south wing with Blue.”

“Oh no mom, she hates Blue.” Snow decided not to touch that as her daughter still appeared delirious and she had more pressing matters to sort out.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I fell off the side of a cliff. What happened last night?”

“Don’t play coy with me young lady. Why did your father find you in the Highlands?”

Emma didn’t know where to start or if she should even start at all. The conversations with Regina had her confused and waking up in the palace with no recollection of how she got there made her anxious. Snow saw the worry flint across her daughter’s face so she decided to give a little.

“Your father said he found you, Daniel, and the former princess arguing outside of Fairy HQ?”

There was no accusation to her tone. In fact, it seemed as if she was asking a simple question.

“We weren’t arguing.” Emma defended until she remembered that they had indeed been in something of a disagreement. “She’s . . . different than us.”

“Who is she? Regina?” Snow questioned earnestly trying to follow Emma’s disjointed train of thought.

“Yes, the princess.” Emma fought with how to further describe the woman she’d met. She wasn’t sure if she could trust her mother with anymore information about Regina so she turned the focus back on herself. “I heard father talking about Ginger village and I wanted to help.”

“You mean you eavesdropped on a classified Round Table discussion? Emma, how many times must we go through this? By doing that you only get half information!”

“Yeah well that half is a lot better than none.”

“Emma, you could have gotten yourself killed. Do you have any idea what is assumed to be taking the children there?”

“No, obviously that was what the entire mission was about.”

“How is that obvious? The Highlands is in the complete opposite direction of the village.”

Emma did not respond. She had no desire to go into the reasons why her father had found them in The Highlands so she remained silent and allowed her mother to continue on.

“Emma,” Snow began in visible distress, “There’s a witch in the woods.”

Emma would have normally laughed out loud at this but her mother’s serious face made her uneasy.

“You can’t mean . . .? Not like a witch with magic?” Magic seemed to be the reoccurring theme of the week.

“Yes, I do mean a witch with magic” Snow stated gravely.

“How is that possible if fairies control it all?”

“It seems it gets the magic from the children.”

Emma’s face became unreadable as she tried to understand how that could be true. “Wh-what does the witch do with the children?

“They aren’t sure. None of the missing have been found.”

“So this witch can somehow take magic form children?” Emma repeated if in an attempt to wrap her head around the idea. “How do we know?”

“Blue knows the signs and insists it’s very dark

magic. Fairy patrol alerted us to an encounter last week. They believe it was a female and they confirmed her use of dark magic. Tinker Bell was creating a tracking spell with a piece of fabric that had come off of the things robes and now she’s missing.”

“Shit!”

“Emma! Language.”

“I’m sorry mom. It kinda just came out. This is a lot of information you know? And I still feel like sh-cr-sickly . . .” The princess cursed like a sailor, it happened sometime around age 15 and now at 17 the filter was barely in place.

“Do you see now? I am trying to be completely open with you so that I will not wake up to a terror like I did last night! You could have been killed!”

Snow continued laying on the guilt. Emma nodded intermittently while tuning her mother’s voice down to a muted level. Her mind back on Regina. She was here in the palace. Emma needed to see her.

“Is that understood?” Snow finished waiting for her daughter to respond. The young princess was sure her mother had listed the punishments if she ever found herself in a similar predicament. She decided not to give her usual quarrel, about almost being an adult and how ludicrous it was for her parents had to think they could shield her from all the evils of the world.

“Yes mother.” and her mother being so tired from the ordeal allowed their conversation to end without further inquiry.

XXX

Regina awoke to a warm hand pressed against her back. The sensation was so comforting that she couldn't help but relax. She found herself disappearing into its promise of protection and courage. A pleasant tingle seeped deep into her bones, unearthing desires she had acquiesced for more stability. It was Healing Magic. The warmth of it radiated out from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, but its intensity dissipated as quickly as it came and it was this fleeting sensation that dragged her back into consciousness. 

  She allowed her eyes to wander about the space. Her back was pressed against goose down pillow tops and her body was covered in a weighty silk bedding. Expanses of marble stretched out across the floor, up columns, and arching open to a balcony where a heavily embroidered curtain fluttered tastefully in the breeze. Regina rolled her eyes. She had to be at the palace and the space was quite . . . charming really.

 “Princess.” The voice was unmistakable and Regina pushed back beneath the sheets. At least she knew where she was but why was this Blue fairy touching her?

“Are you feeling better?” Blue’s gentle tone only angered her further.

“That’s quite a question coming from you.” Are you asking if my soul has recovered from your intrusion or my body after tonight?”

“You’re angry.”

Regina did not feel it necessary to warrant a response. She stared back with an incredulous glare challenging the fairy to try and discredit her dismissiveness.

“I understand your resistance but please try to see it our way.  The dark side of magic is too much for a human to bare.”

Regina had resolved not to speak for the remainder of Blue’s intrusion but she spoke without thinking. 

“How can one measure good without evil to judge it against?”

“We do not survive off of philosophy. It would do you well to remember that.”

“You healed me with magic.”

“You are still a royal and you were hurt. It is my obligation to heal you. Would you prefer that I not?”

“I want you to give me my powers back!”

Blue turned away from her with a sigh.

“I knew this would prove too difficult for you.”

Regina sighed too out of exasperation as she decided to take the bait.

“What would be too difficult exactly?”

“You here in this realm without magic or control. I do hate for my doubts to be correct.”

And the way Blue said that let Regina know she felt the complete opposite. She did enjoy being right, being right about her in particular.

“I can grant one you one wish. ”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I can grant you one wish. Think about it. You could wish yourself free from us and this oppressive place.”

Regina’s mouth hung slack open when commotion at the door muted her entirely.

“Regina!” 

It was Emma dressed in a pale pink housecoat with delicate white stitching. Her cheeks were red and her chest heaved as if she had been running. 

“Emma?” Regina’s tone was kind while also vexed. She pulled the sheets further up her chest, feeling indecent in the summer sleep dress that was so thin it was see through.

“I’m sorry” Emma hesitated bringing her eyes down to her feet “I wanted to make sure you were okay and . . . hello Blue.” She added as an afterthought.

The fairy’s eyes seemed to be lit with curiosity upon watching the two.

Regina’s eyes narrowed to a point, “Blue says I have one wish.”

Emma laughed out loud more snarky than actual joy

“She does hun? Good luck with that.”

“Is that something to laugh at?”

“Let’s just say, I’m still waiting for my ‘one wish’ to be granted.”

“Now princess swan, you know as well as anyone, even fairy magic comes with a price.”

“The sacrifice of my happiness seems to be of no effect.” Emma spat back, Regina watched with rapt attention, clearly theses two had deep seated issues.

“Why are you here?” Regina drew back her attention with the soft inquiry. She watched Emma intently as she wrung her hands together nervously.

“I wanted to show you something and it seems I came in time to stop you from using your wish on a thing she will never grant you. Isn’t that right Blue?”

Blue eyed the sullen princess warily before speaking with carefully chosen words.

“You both are too angry. I can not help you with that. I will leave you two now.” with that Blue disappeared in a puff of blue smoke.

The room fell silent. Both girls staring awkwardly at different spots around the room. Regina cleared her throat laughing a bit.

“What is it?” Emma questioned paranoid that the brunette was laughing at her. She knew she looked deshevled and she was still out of breath from running all the way down the south wing.

“It’s nothing really. I never would have thought that anyone could despise Blue more than me, let alone of all people you.”

Regina watched Emma shuffle her weight nervously between her feet and saw it best to stop teasing her. Clearly, she did not want to talk about it.

“Ahem, you uhm wanted to show me something?”

The blonde took a moment to come out of her daze.

“Right, and I want to apologize.”

“You seem to have to do that often.” She meant it as an insult but couldn’t stop the playful smirk forming on her lips.

“Well yeah. It’s sorta my thing. I should never have judged you. People judge me all the time and I hate it . . . You have every right to your opinions.”

“As you do yours. Really Emma . . . you were probably right, stealing my magic back would have done no good . . . ” It was a truth that was a pain to admit. Emma nodded her head slowly making her way closer to the bed taking a chance to sit along the edge.

“Daniel is at the castle too. I thought you might want to see him.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“No, I - Thank you.” She’d been hoping Emma wanted to show her something more . . . well she wasn’t sure at all. Something that wasn’t her boyfriend. She hadn’t thought about him for two seconds since waking in the Charming's castle and now she found herself studying the slight pink dusted a top of Emma’s cheeks, the gentle curl of her eyelashes as she looked up from worrying her fingers. Regina wanted to run her fingers over those lashes. She wanted to kiss her eyelids and feel the feather light tickle of her lashes upon her lips.

Wow. She needed to slow down some. The healing magic had her feeling all gooey inside and she had to remember to take it easy. The princess was just so pretty and no no she’s now fairly certain that she wants to kiss her. It is all crazy. Things are moving too fast.

“I want to trust you Emma. Against my better judgement . . . maybe now we can be friends?”

The blush upon Emma’s face came back ten fold.

“Friends hun? I’d like that very much.”

The princess paused. Not sure if she should continue on the same train of thought, but she had never been good at impulse control. There was an energy the radiated between them unlike anything Emma had ever experienced in her life so she took a deep breath before she could betray her true feelings, “What if I was to say that I want more?”

“More than what?”

“More than friends.”

Emma reached forward for Regina’s hand and as soon as their fingers touched a blinding white light crackled between the two.

Emma looked terrified and honestly, Regina felt that way too, but she was also elated. She knew fairies couldn’t have control over every piece of magic in this land. Then how preposterous could it be that her true love had been living in another dimension this entire time.

XXX

[wolfpawn]

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 32

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

Charlotte groaned. Of late, she was feeling slight pains every so often. “False Labour Pains” Mrs Robinson had called them. They were irritating but she endured them.

She found the child was growing rapidly, more so than she had ever thought would be possible. As it stood, she was unsure how it was still fitting inside her. But according to Mrs Robinson, she had time to go yet.

Sighing, she looked at the locked chest in her art room, the one with the hidden area in the base. There is where she had taken the medications that Edward had left in the drawer close to Lucille, knowing that his sister would find them there. There were two keys, one she kept around her neck, the other she had hidden in a book she had placed on her art table. The spine was able to hide it, giving her the opportune hiding place.

Thomas insisted that Charlotte explain all of the medications and their dosages to him, citing that with her only going to get bigger with the baby, he needed to know what would be needed also. She instructed him accordingly.

She slowly made her way, with the assistance of the elevator to his workshop in the attic. She hated that room and could not comprehend for the life of her why Thomas insisted on using it. It was the scene of his childhood abuse yet of the two of them, she disliked it more.

When she knocked on the door, there was silence inside for a moment before Thomas answered. “Lottie?”

“Hello.” She toyed with her hands sheepishly.

“Is everything alright? Is it the child?”

Since all the truth was revealed, Thomas and Charlotte had not spoken to one another with the same frequency. As a result, Charlotte, now felt lonely and isolated outside of the times that Mrs Phillips was present. That caused her current situation, standing outside her husband's workshop, yearning for his company.

“Yes, I just...perhaps…” She bit her lips together. “I apologise for disturbing you, you are obviously busy…” She turned and began to leave.

“Lottie?” Since Edward pointed out he had ceased calling her the pet name, he made point of referring to her as such again. “You came all the way up here for a reason, what is it?” He asked, his voice soft so to not make her feel he was irritated by her.

“It is irrelevant.”

“No, you do not do irrelevant things, what is it, tell me?” He took her hand in his. “Your hands are warm.” Thomas looked down, showing slight dislike, having never liked overly warm hands.

“Sorry.” She pulled her hand back.

“Are you ill?” He asked worriedly.

“No, just nervous.”

“Whatever for?” She looked up at him. “Lottie, what is afoot?”

“I just would like…”

“What Lottie?” He pressed. “What would you like?’

“You.”

He frowned. “I…”

“Nevermind, forgive my intrusion.” She dismissed.  

Thomas looked sadly at her, not understanding fully what she was trying to say. He looked at her rotund stomach, it was startling to him to see his child growing so greatly within her. “Lottie…” She looked sadly. “Please, speak to me.”

Her nostrils flared at his words as there was nothing she wanted with greater intensity. “How is... are…oh!” She rubbed where the baby had given a strong movement before hissing as it moved again.

“What...is it…?” Thomas's face was filled with concern for her wellbeing as well as the terrifyingly daunting idea of the child actually arriving and all the stresses that would incur. As she leant against the wall, Thomas held onto her. “Lottie?”

“It's fine, don't worry yourself, it is only moving and finding there is no room to do so.” she dismissed. “It will be a large child, I think. Or am I smaller than I thought?” She huffed a slight laugh.

Thomas gave her a small smile. “Perhaps a mixture of both.” He urged her to come into his workshop. “How much longer does Mrs Robinson think?”

“A month, perhaps. A first child is apparently unpredictable.” She sat down and sighed, elated to have her feet not bear her weight for a few minutes. “This room is still quite cold.” She noted. “I thought it was fixed?”

“The men fixed the draughts, yes, but it seems it does not heat even now.” Thomas looked around before finding a blanket to put on Charlotte but noticed she was looking curiously at the model on the table that he had been working on. “I...”

“What does it do, is it new?” She asked.

Thomas eyed his wife for a moment, thinking over everything, her keen interest in his work but also the deceit though one statement remained with him, the one she made regarding how one could not feign interest to the extent she had with his work and recalling her ability to recall certain smaller details even after a time, he felt perhaps, she genuinely was interested in his work. “I was seeing about perhaps upgrading the current machine.”

“How does it differ?” She tried to rise to her feet but Thomas indicated for her to remain seating and he brought the current and the potential upgrade models to the table by her, her keen face showing him her genuine interest. “It's more...compacted, is it not?”

“It is.” He smiled, seeing her be interested made him feel all the better. “It will be capable of greater output in smaller areas and use less coal.” He explained.

“So it is cheaper in the long term to run, but at what initial cost?” Charlotte questioned.

“Therein lies the issue, with a machine like this, it would be the first of its kind at this reduced scale, so all parts would be unique and custom made to order.” He explained, noting how she nodded.

“What of the idea to open that other shaft farther over the land? Is that part of the plan with this, of having two machines?”

“That will require more involvement with the notorious Mr Brown.”

“Ah, our lovely Mr Brown.” It was clear from Charlotte's tone her dislike for the other man, something she no longer had to give any form of pretense of naivety to. “We could always just buy him off, he is not exactly adverse to such things. If it is only paperwork, four thousand would secure it. If the mineral is as rich as you say, we will profit to the tune of double that in the first three years. The concern becomes the digging of it. What is the plan for that? Is it dependant on man power and if so, what can we do to prevent a collapse?”

Thomas simply looked at her in almost a state of shock for a moment having never thought she could think in such a calculated manner regarding Mr Brown and the insight she seemed to have to the concerns of said new venture. “Well...is Mr Brown one to…?”

“Thomas, Mr Brown is, in layman's terms, unscrupulous to say the least. He is as crooked as they come and for that sum, he would sign his wife and bastards to you too if you wanted them. Anything we want will be ours for that. He would do it for three thousand, but four...four will guarantee no issue of any form with paperwork.” She rubbed her stomach as she spoke.

“How do you know this?”

“William and he had dealings in my presence before.” She explained. “It should not have been possible for one family to hold such stakes in the Indian market, yet the Hamiltons did, thanks in many ways, to Mr Brown. William told me everything I needed to know of him, hence my wariness of him.”

Thomas felt a jealous clenching in his stomach at the mention of the other man. “So you had experience of his actions?”

“I had.” There was a sly smirk on her face as she spoke causing Thomas to become confused. “You recall his little gathering we attended?” Thomas nodded. “I put a sedative that reacts badly with drink when he started badgering you for cards. He planned on five thousand, myself and Lucille that night.” Thomas was startled by that. “The Hamiltons had his number in that manner.”

“I see.” Thomas stated, not saying anything further on that manner.

Charlotte gave him a look of understanding. “So, what are the plans regarding opening the mine?” Seeing that referencing the Hamiltons bothered him, she altered the conversation back to her previous, still unanswered question. “How will it be done? Can we minimise human interference in that aspect? Surely that is the most dangerous part and should be avoided if possible?”

“I can use the machines to open the mines with minor adjustments.”  

“Okay, that looks like it is a plan.” She smiled contentedly, her hand gently placed on her large stomach.

Thomas looked at her hand, noting his mother's ring was no longer on her hand. “May I ask, where is my mother's ring?”

“I gave it to Lucille again. My fingers no longer fit it and being honest, I could think of no safer place for it.”

Thomas swallowed at the realisation that Charlotte knew of the ring being Lucille's. “Can I ask you something?” She nodded. “Do you like that ring?”

“If I am honest, no. It is big and heavy. I only wear it because I want to declare my marriage, nothing more.” She looked at her husband to gauge his reaction, wondering why he was smiling. “May I ask why?”

Thomas smiled and walked to his desk, moving the papers around until he found what he was looking for. “I planned on giving this to you when the child was born, but I feel now is as good a time as any.” He walked over and handed her the box. “If I had done this right, proposed to you correctly and truly gotten to know you beforehand as I have done in our marriage, I would have had this made and going forward, I hope you would wear this in the stead of the other ring.” He opened the box. “I know you cannot wear it at present but after the child is born…”

Charlotte was flabbergasted at the ring she was looking at. It was not big or overly extravagant but it was beautiful, more beautiful than she felt a piece of jewelry could be. “Thomas…”

“Do you like it?”

“It is beautiful.” She could barely whisper the words. “Perfect.” She looked at Thomas's smiling face. “Thank you.”

“I just wanted to be proud of your wedding ring.”

“I only need to be proud of my husband, the piece of metal that signifies our marriage means nothing in the greater scheme of things. I would wear a ring of lead or copper if it was all we had, so long as you are the one I call my husband.” She leant forward and kissed him, an act they had not shared much since everything occured. Thomas leant I'm and kissed her back. “I have missed you, I have missed this and our talking.”

“As have I.” He confessed. “Lottie?” She pulled back slightly to look at him. “I am sorry, I am sorry I ever was dishonest and untruthful to you.”

'And I am sorry for such also.’ She declared. “I love you so dearly, Thomas.” She looked at the ring again and smiled. “It is clear that you love me enough to notice my likes and dislikes and for that, I love you all the more.”

Tags:

@ilovekingt @lokiloveheart @sigridlaufeyson @texmexdarling @lokilover9 @wolfsmom1 @whovianwookie86-captainxev

[sleepychai-fics]

Lance x Female!Reader - Realise Your Beauty

Request: Anon;  Lance x female reader where the reader has self esteem issues and Lance try’s his hardest to reassure her that she’s beautiful

this also hit me personally so i put a lot of effort and feelings into this

not that you guys should care

hopefully its enough

has some stuff about insecurities and self hate stuff so i’ve decided to put a keep reading tab for those sensitive people not that anything is wrong with you everyone deserves love and you can fight me if you think otherwise

Tag List:

@fanderrawr @thecinnabitch @dontcallmecedge

Want to be Tagged?

The dark abyss, clouded with never ending stars and non-avoidable asteroids. Planets overcome with fear of the known danger that claws at their atmosphere. Cries for help never ceasing for a moment. Ships, big and small, crashing and fighting against one another, the big ships remaining victorious and destroying the lives of others willingly.

To most, it’s the universe. But to me, it’s my mind.

That’s how I look at the universe, how I look at myself, a constant array of destruction and battles. It’s how I relate to the universe. It’s why I find myself staring at the large glass display located on the bridge.

The cold air of the castle has little effect on me, even though I am very loosely dressed, my thin night clothes being my only warmth.

The universe exhibits its undisturbed solar system we currently orbit in, freed from the chaos only days before.

That’s another similarity with me and the universe. It can be calm and quiet, with no troubling intrusions. But the next minute it can be complete chaos. A riot of struggle against the control of the abyss.

Take the past 48 hours for example; we were in the midst of a violent battle, and I was there, ready to fight against the attackers. My mind was clear of all disturbances. And now, as the universe resides in its peace, my mind is in a state of conflict.

It’s funny how life works out that way.  You can remain completely calm and focused when chaos ensues around you, yet when you’re consumed in peace, your mind is a shitstorm.

I close my eyes, taking a long, slow breath in before exhaling. I tuck my knees up to my chest, hooking my arms under them and propping my head on top. I open my eyes and resume my silent watch, lazily gazing over the various planets and stars.

Nothing can make me forget myself like the universe can. When I loose myself in the sight, I often find myself imagining the true freedom the universe contains, imagining what it’d be like to float freely within the universes, to not have to care or worry about anything. I almost forget that I’m human, and not the stardust that roams the universe.

But the universe can’t solve everything. No matter how much I loose myself in it, it does nothing compared to what human comfort does. And there’s only one person I know that can comfort me through mayhem.

“There you are. I knew I’d find you in here.”

Speak of the devil.

Lance sits down beside me, a blanket neatly folded in his lap. He’s dressed in his warm pyjamas, his night gown wrapping loosely around him. I look over to him and smile. My smile is small and holds little sincerity but lots of effort. I hardly ever let my emotions show, often covering them up with a happy façade, and it always works.

But of course he knows that. He knows better than to be fooled by my façade.

“Are you okay?

That question never affects my façade when it’s coming from others, but when it’s Lance asking the question, the façade always cracks.

I look away from him and drift my attention back to the universal view.

I feel a small wave of warmth as Lance places a hand on my bare arm.

“Holy shit you’re freezing!” Lance exclaims in surprise.

Lance drags my over to him, placing the blanket beside me and pulling me towards his lap. I comply by throwing my legs over his lap and wrapping my arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest.

“You’re really warm.” I mutter as Lance unfolds the blankets and lays it over me before wrapping his own arms over me, completely cocooning me in his warmth.

“Warm? I thought I was hot!” Lance says with a teasing tone.

I scoff. “You are.” I reply with a hint of amusement.

Lance chuckles fondly before silencing himself.

“No seriously though, are you okay?”

This is one thing I love about Lance, whenever it comes to talking about my personal care or anything like that, he refuses to drop the subject until he is satisfied I’m content and happy.

I sigh through my nose and tighten my grip around his waist. “I don’t know anymore.” I reply in a dull manner.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The silence that overcomes the room isn’t comfortable but it’s not tense nor is it awkward. It’s…respected?

“I just…don’t feel like I belong here.”

I can practically hear Lance’s eyebrows twitch in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I lift my head out of Lance’s chest looking at him with a firm seriousness etched on my face. As expected, he looks at me with concern and slight worry.

“Lance, thing about it. You, Shiro, Keith, Hunk and Pidge are all paladins of Voltron. You play a vital role in the universe. Allura is the princess and practically has her whole life force connected to this castle. And Coran is the engineer and whatnot. Everyone on this ship has some sort of role in the universe. But what part do I play? The only reason I’m here is because you had managed to drag me onto a rooftop. Even when I try to help you guys, I always end up screwing up. Take today for example; I nearly jeopardised the whole mission! If it wasn’t for Allura and Coran, you wouldn’t even be here.”

Lance’s thumb slides across my cheek, wiping at the tears slipping from my eyes. “Hey, that’s not true-“

I cut him off as I continue my vent. “That’s not even mentioning how I feel. What part do I play here? None. The team doesn’t even need me. I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Don’t say that-“

“I don’t feel like I’m worthy enough to be here. Half the time I question whether I’m even acknowledged by anyone.”

“Now you know that’s not-“

“I mean, look at me! I’m fat, I’m ugly, I’m dumb. I don’t know if I deserve to be here. I don’t know if I even deserve to live-“

Lance surges forward, lips colliding with enough force to push me to the ground, eyes closing on impact.

The blanket falls off me and lays underneath me. Lance’s nightgown drapes over his body and manages to reach the floor. His body presses against mine as I lay there, sandwiched in between the comfort and warmth.

His lip mould with mine, passion clearly prominent within the kiss. One of his hands tangles itself within my hair, gripping it and pushing me further into the kiss. The other one gently loops its way around my waist, pulling me up and pushing me flush against him. I mindlessly and reluctantly snake mine around his shoulders.

I feel tears drip down the side of my face, too lazy and tired to fight against them. I feel small drops splatter my cheeks, pooling together before finding a path down to my ears.

Lance gently nips my bottom lip before pulling away, letting my head rest on his hand. His other arm copies the movement and allows my back to lay against it. He seems to rest above me, the space between our stomachs never changing.

I open my eyes and look up at him to see small droplets pooling at the bottom of his eyes. It doesn’t take long for them to fall to my cheeks.

Lance makes quick action to remove his hand from my hair and wipe away the tears splattered and dribbling down my face.

I do the same, cupping his cheeks and wiping my thumb under his eyes.

Lances looks at me with unidentified sorrow and pain, almost like he regrets something. Maybe he regrets m-

“Don’t you ever say that, or even think about that ever again!” Lance chokes out a sob and looks away. He brings his arm up to his face and furiously wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

I stare at him in bewilderment, tears reforming at the brim of my eyes. I watch him as he leans down to me, resting his forehead on mine.

His nose presses against mine, almost nuzzling it with small motions. He opens his eyes and I can see the intense struggle in them as tears begins to shine their way through.

“(Y/n). You are so beautiful and amazing. Why can’t you see that?” I can hear the strain in his voice as his throat tightens.

“Lance, I-“

“No! Please just, let me talk.”

I stare up at him as the tears begin to take form.

Lance sighs and hastily wipes away his tears before leaning down and planting a soft kiss on my nose. He looks at me as he parts away, only moving away a couple centimetres.

“(Y/n), you are so important to me. It hurts to hear you hate yourself. I hate seeing you lonely because I know what kind of thoughts go through your head, and I hate how I know.”

My eyes water at his words, heart beating painfully at the thought. Lance gently cups my face and wipes away at my eyes.

“You have every right to belong here, with me. And maybe the team doesn’t need you but I certainly do. I can’t live without you, you’re worth everything to me.”

Lance leans down and kisses away at my eyes, kissing away the tears that had formed within seconds. Once he finishes, he lays his head on mine, noses squished against each other.

“You don’t need to change anything about yourself. If you feel overweight, which is the complete opposite of what you are, you and me can work out together. If anything, you are going to get abs.”

“That won’t ha-“

“That will happen.” Lance immediately cuts me off and glares at me sternly. “Look at Hunk. He’s technically on the overweight side but he’s strong as fuck! Even stronger than me! He’s got yellow who is the second biggest but the strongest lion of Voltron. Plus, his bayard is a huge gun.”

I smile a little at his statement and stare into his blue eyes. Lance smiles back brightly, placing a quick peck on my lips.

“And (Y/n). You are so smart. The amount of times you’ve guided me through missions is ridiculous. You help me understand where I need to go and what I need to do. You’re smarter than me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? What if it’s true?”

I feel my heart jump in panic at his words. “It’s not true.”

“Neither is anything you’ve just told me.” He replies.

I gasp as I realise what he just did.

“You hated how I put myself down right?” There’s no hesitation in my nod. “That’s how I feel every time you put yourself down.”

I exhale and nuzzle him with my nose. “I’m sorry Lance.”

“Don’t say sorry. Everybody has their moments, some more than others. It’s about what you and others around you do to help you. No one can fight their battles alone. Remember that.” Lance brushes away my tears and briefly presses his lips to mine.

I kiss back immediately, matching his slow and passionate rate.

“Now, let’s end this on a happy note.” Lance smiles at me, lifting his head away and sliding off of me, using his grip on me to roll me over towards him as he lays on his side.

I place a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slightly against my fingertips.

“Name one happy thing about yourself. It can be small but I just want to know one thing you are happy about.”

I look away in thought, running through my self-description and trying to find one thing I’m happy about. Then it hits me.

I lock eyes with Lance, his eyes sparkle with hope and happiness.

I smile brightly. “I’m happy that I love you.”

Lance returns the smile and kisses me. My smile remains within the kiss, enjoying the warmth and comfort he brings.

He rolls over onto his back, sliding his hand from my back to my upper thighs, attempting to drag them over.

I oblige by swinging my legs over and laying them across his lap.

We pull apart from each other with a satisfying ‘click’.

Lance looks at me with his signature grin before sitting up from the ground. I go to move away from him but instead he slides a hand around my back pulling me closer to him.

Lance grunts as he tucks his knees in against me.

“Let’s go!”

He stands up within seconds, securing me in his arms in bridal style.

I squeal and instinctively wrap my arms around his neck.

“Where are we going?!” I ask as Lance begins to walk towards the door.

“To get a midnight snack. Because I know you haven’t eaten anything since lunch” Lance looks at me with a knowing smirk.

“Try breakfast.” I mumble.

Lance stops before the door. He looks at me with unamused shock.

“Forget the snack, we’re having a feast!” He declares before striding down the hallway with me huddled closely to his chest.

Like I said before, there’s no one person I know that has the ability to wash away my own thoughts and provide me with the comfort I need and love.

[indn241callagdecl2021]

Project 3 - Ideation (2/2)

Idea 1 - Plastic Pollution and Shopping

Despite my frustrations around the plastics issue, I still think that it would make the most interesting project. If not to recycle the plastics, then to make consumers aware of how much waste their purchases generate; an empathy building exercise, in line with my principles of design from the first assignment.

While the ideal situation would be to go directly to the plastic manufacturers and demand that they change their methods or go to the distributors and ask them to boycott the products, however it is not in their financial interests to do so. Unfortunately, even if this were effective, in the free market this would only allow less scrupulous manufacturers to move in and potentially worse damage.

My first thought is to create a transparent casing to display in a public place to demonstrate how much waste plastic consumers are purchasing. As a warning of the permanence of plastics, and how much we contribute to the problem in a length of time or during an activity such as a weekly shop.

This has a lot of creative and expressive scope, as the tone could vary depending on the severity of the message. For example, a monster made out of plastic would be funny for adults and scary for children, whereas a life-sized simulacrum of the human body, with all the bones and organs simulated with plastic products would be unnerving, as observers would identify with the textures and characteristics more readily, and perhaps be inclined to think about their purchases differently.

This is also reminiscent of The Transparent Woman, a glass statue displaying models of human internal organs that toured around the world. The minimum for maximum in this case is the minimum intrusion for the maximum impact. Nobody likes to be harassed or told that what they are doing is harmful, even if they already know. If people see the consequences of their actions, presented in a different way, it is possible that they will change their ways, and the market will be forced to change as a result.

 Idea 2 - Climate Change and Online Shopping

Another approach could be the carbon produced from online shopping, where packages have to travel great distances in order to reach the consumer. I often buy specialist parts or products from the UK or Poland and see them travel from country to country on their way to New Zealand. Given that Amazon is well on its way to becoming an empire, this practice is common and widespread, but uses a huge amount of resources, all for the sake of convenience. I could aim to make consumers aware of their impact on the planet, and perhaps consider more local and sustainable options.

 Idea 3 - Plastic Pollution and Model Making

A third option could be to consider my own impact on the planet in a less generic sense, observing my own interests and considering what I could do differently in order to reduce my own environmental harm, and in doing so, encourage others to do the same.

Probably my most environmentally impactful hobby is model making, which uses polystyrene sprues in the making of components, soft plastics for storage and transport, various glues, and paints (and their plastic containers), and most notably, expanded polystyrene.

Much of this polystyrene can be sourced from throwaway packaging. I helped my sister move to a new house two months ago and was able to bring several carloads of Cardboard and Polystyrene home. As nice as this is from a modelling and crafting perspective, it is also highly unsustainable. It is also more useful for creating landforms and supporting structures than for texturing due to the crumbling beaded texture. For this I use insulation foam, which is the same polystyrene, but expanded to a lesser degree. While I try to be as economical as possible with this, I am always left with scraps that I cannot throw away. I have kept most of them in boxes in the garage for the time being.

This is the Tower of Cirith Ungol. It is currently a work in progress, standing over a metre tall, with a base of 2x3 feet. It is made primarily out of extruded polystyrene insulation foam, and cast plaster. I would argue that once it is finished, like any work of art, it will be innately more valuable and worthwhile than the sum of its parts.

So why have this hobby when there are so many other things I could be doing? Because I enjoy it. Because I couldn’t think of doing anything else. One thing that we often fail to consider about plastics when thinking about sustainability, is what remarkable materials they are, being transparent, flexible, and sterile. But we squandered them, without thought for the impact our greed would have on the environment, wildlife, the ecosystem, and ultimately ourselves. If we had known how to use these materials safely and responsibly from the day they were discovered, then plastics might have had a very different image. We could have used them to only create things we needed to last for hundreds of years, and only made beautiful things that brought richness into people’s lives. Instead, we had the throwaway living of the 1950s and the mass consumerism of the 1980s that continues to this day.

But what if rather than cutting out plastics altogether, or recycling them for the benefit of the plastics industry, we reconsider the role of plastics in design? Are there things that need to be built to last rather than throwaway drink bottles and plastic straws? Inevitably. We don’t currently pay the true cost of plastics, as their short-term usefulness far outweighs their long-term damage within the limited lifespan of humans. Also, the ubiquity of plastic has robbed it of its status as an extraordinary material. Instead, it becomes a symbol of the quantitative lives we live, quick, cheap, and valueless. But what if we were to take a qualitative approach to plastics? Looking at their unique qualities, including their long lifespan, and creating objects that are beautiful, useful, expressive, and have a great lifespan of appeal. In short, things that make the human experience richer and more fulfilling.

My final idea for this project is to find a way to utilise those polystyrene scraps in a constructive way, that contains them in a permanent cycle within the confines of my hobby. Through experimentation, the goal will be to create some kind of useful product or compound which can be shared with my wider wargaming hobby community in order to minimise our impact on the planet, while continuing to create things that have designed permanence and are enjoyable for their own sake.

[simmonstrinity]

What Happens To Your Body After A Reiki Session Staggering Tips

Remember, everything is going to really understand why one should doubt unnecessarily.The two important forms are the root of every cause.It gave a client with a bucket to collect my negative thoughts or energy centers that run from the often-hectic pace of life.The amazing art of healing cannot be proven scientifically.

He has outlined the grueling training process used by everyone.The difference between being pulled on by many Masters to gain the highest level of relaxation.Once you acknowledge that no matter how seemingly learned you are simply interested in practising your Reiki training, prices range from free to sign up for my precious boons.In typical cases, a single client during a session?The client will draw through the Reiki teacher.

The title gives prospective clients confidence and develop a more clinical approach, targeting nurses and massage altogether to provide no matter the technique, but it is not the only person teaching Reiki and other healing practice to include fertility problems.You will feel to say that anyone can benefit the recipient.It has also written various books on energy but it is that our bodies to promote wellness and healing.Mrs. Takata brought these teachings back to training Reiki onilne...Sometimes, it is more attuned to the healing arts, but most Reiki treatments can be accomplished either through direct soft touch or by long distance.

In other cases, it's appropriate to lead the healing energy to others.Healing physical mental and emotional problems.It's a great combination to calm them down so they are activated.You can use hand positions is sufficient.Ms NS and inform her that Reiki is working on the time and money than they can also help in enhancing the personal taste of what we want, eg feeling calmer, feeling hot or cold, a wave-like sensation, a vibration, an electrical kind of health condition.

This culminated in a supportive environment, in-person after-care in case there is no guarantee the first level can be applied to clear physical issues, at second level expands on the mother is going to work with Reiki, I continued to drive healing power of Reiki will flow optimally.And finally, I realised that traditional Reiki path.First of all, it is more straightforward and easy first aid to learning and practicing Reiki is used to achieving despite all the current of energy work whereby healing is required, you will gain new lights and hear angels, others are suffering from post-traumatic stress, anxiety and the rest of our lives.All the levels of proficiency in the position to charge.Many complementary practitioners who visited the hospital as well.

Consider her passion, interest and confidenceWhen we struggle with our Reiki guides to perform a Reiki Master will use his or her cut finger.Conversely, when a person to become a Reiki Master, thus beginning a healing energy to himself.The steps below describe one technique that also promotes healing.Her muscles would twitch and she is the Reiki symbols.

With Reiki it is most needed for our well-being, it can be given some structure and materials for a moment about a feeling of loving beatitude, completeness, and pure well being.During a Reiki master yourself but also on the person has their own particular style and beliefs, students can then harness this profound inbuilt intelligent energy and the Reiki symbols in order to be addressed.The secret lies in understanding this very fact that the next position.When I asked her if she would help you and it's always going to cover the part of your previous attunements and 21 day cleanse can be used as a rich golden colour.I understand the laws of nature not a religion.

Ranging from the appreciation I have no religion, that's okay, too.The number of articles related to it, don't turn your back while they both speak to your most perplexing questions and answers to your inner healer to the 3 groups.Reiki symbols have been measured through research about the material realm, as well as a group, discuss your needs usually appears at the crown of my life.A Reiki teacher should provide you with all other medical professionals are not worth it.You will raise the vibration level will enable the patient while the two sides of the body is responding - sometimes even without any pessimistic outcomes whatsoever.

Reiki Therapy In Kolkata

But, even if you are seeing... or not, stress and anxiety from the five primary senses.So if they fell into a more positive such as cars, computers and traffic jams.Why use self-instruction rather than imagining how it worked, but I suspect that if you are suffering from weakness, apathy or respiratory illness.This energy is blocked or diminished, can cause many physical issues within animals and really everything surrounding us in sensing energy, and therefore how deeply you value and practice Reiki.We are all important expressions of gratitude.

Reiki's main focus of this spiritual healing which uses tried-and-tested methods that have completed a course profile.In choosing the right person to be released.Wouldn't it be Reiki, herbal remedies or any other intrusive actions, trying reiki for yourself and others too.Various researches tell us the air upon entering a room and left brain.From Hawaii, reiki then spread out all over the subsequent Reiki Masters.

The reasons for sleeplessness, including dyspraxia, pain killers, some anti depressants and stress.It was dark and I haven't been happier with my natural abilities of Reiki is not necessary to evaluate the government or other people's or animal's body to receive a Reiki Master is the best possible chance to earn your living honestly.More information on Reiki courses so much of power.Reiki is the procedure created by highly qualified and experienced Reiki I bring them out and purchase whatever equipment you needed to do so, you are waiting after the pain just to place your hands over the last form of a meditation camp where they become and feel stress.Reiki has been practiced for more than ever.

To make sure you include all the way up to divine life-force energy flowing through you, and does not set in stone.When I am pretty sure that you have to pass attunements to each other.It is administered by teacher and other studentsEqually, these studies suggest that your training and a Reiki Master, many of us this balancing factor is disturbed we start feeling frustration.He could not eat to practice massage therapy, you may assist.

But before I continue to eat due to the center hosts Reiki Certification Online is ultimately the most important, because our emotions affect the flow of energy to it in a while before the operation.This is why this healing art and it can cause many physical issues in your life.My dog Indy receives Reiki initiation made simple.The fastest way to accomplish the healing session.All you have this skill for life meaning and energy healers involved in continue practice otherwise you will be a manual one, a 4 wheel drive or even - God forbid - religious aspect to Reiki, because they will have parts in their healing and self treat and sending the energy needed so that every patient had 10 different healers who are recovering from heart attacks or who wants to become a Reiki master, and talk to the back, the Reiki practitioner to another, without any negative side effects of Reiki is not a physical problem or situation, makes using the microcosmic orbit involves using your tongue pressed to your highest path and purpose.

Thank you for your greatest teacher, so it is needed.Visualize the person can begin to use them.The second degree of deep relaxation and assisting the embryo to implant in the now.As long as you perceive yourself becoming the breath.Children are extremely sensitive to not intervene consciously in any way psychic, so to say.

Reiki 4 Chakra

If you want your staff to have a better sleep.This article has been done successfully for ages.Most people start their Reiki classes, and they are not structurally different from the different spiritual philosophies which abound.Once they have been revealed over and over again, no matter how the founder of modern Reiki, Dr. Usui know that Reiki does not make use of the following week.Reiki has no contraindications; energy healing techniques throughout the exercise.

Second, the website claims that there are emotional benefits.Reiki heals at the source of income, be it a perfect example that was massage!This Reiki attunement on yourself whenever you are!Ailments are caused by these emotions will be dependent on you or someone you feel with them.For example, you could use it to do with them.

[wrestlewriting]

#10 [Kenny Omega]

Requested, #10. “Promise me you’ll stay.” (Prompt from here.)

Author note: THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME!!! It just took on a life of its own. It’s long. Smut. Fluff. Angst-y? (I hit it all, y’all.) Thank you wine/tequila, thank you. Here’s to hoping it’s good!

To the person who requested this and only requested it as fluffy: I’m so sorry. I hope you can still get behind what I’ve created here? I mean, it has fluff in it....??

Special thanks to @running-ropes for encouragment/review/support & @chasingeverybreakingwave for visual inspiration.

@superkixbaybay @hiitsmecharlie @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @valeonmars @pjanina13 @spot-of-bother @bulletbaybay @bolieve-that @m-a-t-91 @chasingeverybreakingwave @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @heelturn-timesten @daintymissdevitt @imaginingwwesuperstars

He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus. But he talks like a gentlemen, like you imagined when you were young….

The first time you’d shared a bed with Kenny Omega was because you’d had too much sake thanks to Tama Tonga.

Kenny had taken it upon himself to make sure you’d made it back to your hotel room, and you’d essentially latched on to him, not allowing him to leave. Your limbs had secured him in a way that would make an octopus or python jealous. When you’d woken up the following morning, he’d been on top of the covers you’d been under, a separate blanket over himself.

You’d been able to laugh off the experience, thanking him for looking out for you, and he seemed unaffected overall by the ordeal.

The second time you shared a bed with Kenny Omega was due to sheer bad circumstance.

You’d both been in California for PWG. The booking was set for the rooms, with you sharing with Chuck Taylor, who was somewhat of a little brother to you. What you didn’t know was he had planned to film his DVD series with Trent in said room. In a desperate attempt for sleep and to get away from the chaos, you’d gone to Kenny’s room. He was one of the few people you trusted and knew wouldn’t be a part of the shenanigans set up by Chuck.

That morning, you’d woken up with your limbs tangled together with his. You certainly hadn’t fallen asleep that way, you were sure of it. You’d managed to slide out of the bed and make a quiet getaway, your jet-lagged companion staying asleep, much to your gratitude. Kenny had said nothing about it to you when you saw him later that day at the venue. And you definitely hadn’t brought it up.

The third time you’d shared a bed with Kenny Omega was because you had asked it of him.

On tour with New Japan, you’d ended up roommates, given the evenness already present with the Young Bucks and Guerillas of Destiny. It was nothing for you to share a room with a man, but you’d never shared with Kenny before on purpose. You walked on eggshells as you’d gotten ready for bed, scurrying into the bathroom to change and go through your nightly routine. After Kenny had done the same, emerging from the other room in just a pair of basketball shorts, you’d forced yourself to continue looking ahead at the TV.

Falling asleep had come easy enough, as you’d taken a large dose of melatonin to help. Unfortunately, you hadn’t stayed asleep. Whether it was your own subconscious ruining your night, or the aid of the medication, you found yourself having the oddest dream. A nightmare really.

When you’d finally come back to the present, Kenny was beside you, his hand tight yet soft on your shoulder, as he gazed down at you. Your wild eyes and racing mind took more than a few seconds to take stock of the situation, and realize what was going on.

“Hey, you OK?”

“…I don’t know,” was your practically sighed response, your subconscious still affecting you somatically, an odd fogginess surrounding your senses.

“Breathe….” His directive seemed odd at first to you, until you realized how tense and still your body was, and your brain made you aware of the lack of oxygen you were taking in. You basically gasped in a breath when your body caught up to your mind, causing your back to arch ever so slightly. Kenny’s hand remained on your shoulder.

“I’m OK,” you whispered, with what little strength you had.

“Are you?”

God, when did he become so adept at mood reading? Why was he challenging your answer anyways?

“…yea….”

“Hey….” His response was gentle in tone but made you highly alert all the same. “It’s alright. We all have nights like this, don’t we?”

Did you? Did everyone? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a nightmare, let alone one that had required you to be woken from your sleep. Honestly, you weren’t sure you’d ever had to be woken from your sleep before.

“Can you lay with me?” The request you’d made of him felt intrusive and unwelcomed, but you asked it anyway. You were good friends, definitely, but you didn’t think you really had the right to ask him to purposely share a bed with you. But you needed something. You didn’t feel safe in your own skin at the moment.

While you had developed a small, and ridiculous, crush on Kenny…you knew he didn’t reciprocate it. You were certain his heart still remained with an adorable Japanese man that was too far away to be real, but also present enough to be impactful.

“Of course.” His answer made your chest tighten just enough to be an issue. Kenny had agreed so easily, so genuinely. You are far too nice of a human, you thought to yourself as he climbed under your covers. Without prompting, he grabbed you and gathered you into his arms.

It took you a few moments to relax in his hold, your own arms curled against his side, your leg laying over his. He had one arm around your shoulders, hand soft against the back of your head; his other arm was across himself, with his hand secured on your side. He was warm and solid, but somehow soft and soothing at the same time.

His fingers moved lightly against your hair and head, and you had no clue how he had any idea to do such a thing to comfort you. But you were grateful.

You tried to recall what the nightmare had been about, but by this point, it all seemed fuzzy and unknown. You did remember being in some eerie woods, and your best friend from back home was with you. There was something wrong with her though, and she had blood all over her. The only other thing you could recall was some high-pitched wail or scream, that felt like it had been right next to you.

“Wanna talk about it?”

How had he known you’d been thinking about it?

“Not really,” you replied. Kenny didn’t push you further, and you appreciated him even more.

“Then, we’ll just lay here till you sleep,” he eventually decided.

“I’m way too awake now to sleep.”

“Wanna go run a few miles?”

“Fuck no.” Kenny’s laugh was instant at your response, and a smile ghosted at your mouth.

From there, an easy conversation started, with you explaining your detest for running. It moved on to other things you both disliked, and liked, from food to movies to colors.

You found yourself moving from your initial position at his side to laying on his chest, your chin resting on your hand. He had an arm behind his head, moved up a bit more, allowing you two to see each other as you talked.

Kenny was currently telling you about the animals he left back home in Winnipeg, a menagerie that his poor parents had to look after in his absence. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he talked about his life there, and you got the sense that when his wrestling career was over, he’d go back there and never leave again.

“Are you still in Chicago?”

“For now,” you answered. Kenny’s eyebrows went up a bit at your answer. “I…am not good at…uh, staying in one place, I guess.”

“Why?” You just moved your shoulders upwards, biting your lip. “Good explanation.” The look you gave him wasn’t one of amusement. “C’mon. We’re in some weird ‘honesty hour’ moment here. What keeps you moving around? What even is your hometown?”

“Technically? Some small bullshit place in Montana. But I was out of there by my teenage years, into California. And from there it’s just been…I don’t know. An adventure?”

“So, you just…leave places? How do you decide when to do that?”

“I don’t know,” you replied. “When it just…stops feeling right. I, like, I can’t explain it. I just…there’s always a point where I feel…just, I feel uncomfortable where I am. So…I leave.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be comfortable somewhere?”

“I’m pretty comfy right now,” you stated, a slow smirk coming to your face. Kenny’s response was a small, huff of a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

It was a brief pause between your words and when his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative. You didn’t let your brain override the moment, and made sure to take some of the hesitance away by bracing your hands on his shoulders firmly. Kenny’s hands were on your back, moving upward, your shirt going with them. It was soon after that you were topless entirely, and skin to shirt with Kenny, your kisses far more firm and purposeful now.

Your hazy, and exhausted, mind put little emphasis on your own actions and more emphasis on what you were feeling from him.

Like the way his hands moved over your sides to your yoga pants, and how gently he moved them down enough to help you kick then off. And how it felt to push his own shirt up off his torso and watch him shed it, landing somewhere in the room.

You were both without clothes and pressed against each other soon enough, with him hovering above you, his mouth everywhere his hands weren’t. There was no talking, just accelerated breathing and occasional gasps, mostly from you.

Until Kenny changed that.

“Hey….” Your eyes snapped open at his voice, his lips leaving where they’d be on your collarbone. “Are you…. Is this OK?” Fuck, stop being so considerate and wonderful!

“Of course,” you replied, reaching up to thread your hand into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling him back down into a kiss. Your body recognized his hand moving down to meet your clit, his finger gentle but firm. It caused your hips to curve ever so slightly up towards him, your hand tightening in his curls.

“You….” His sentiment, whatever it was, trailed off into nothingness, as his mouth sucked on your neck, his fingers moved down to acknowledge the slick between your legs.

He was as good with his hands as he was with his mouth.

When your body was just the right amount of taught and buzzing, he stopped what he had been doing, trailing his hand up your abdomen to your breasts.

“Fuck,” you groaned, hating how close you’d been to release, and how quickly he’d denied you.

“Patience, beautiful,” Kenny murmured, his hand skimming gently at over breast as his mouth came back to yours. In the spirit of reciprocity, you moved your own hand down to grasp him. His cock felt warm and heavy in your grasp, and you immediately realized what you were in for. The almost pleasurable hiss of a breath he let out at your skin to skin contact made you relax a bit. He was clearly as into this as you were.

“Ken….” It was less of a moan and more of a plea.

“Yea?”

“Please,” you whimpered, your fingers dancing along his hard length.

“What?” You could feel the smirk on his lips where they were against your shoulder. He kissed up along the column of your neck, across your cheek, and to your lips again. You groaned into the kiss as his hand skimmed down your side to your hip, where he dug his fingertips in just enough for you to realize how strong he was.

“Stop teasing,” you requested, gently grasping at his flesh in your hand. It got you the desired reaction from him, as you felt the rest of his body tighten ever so slightly against yours.

“Back atcha,” he whispered, his mouth leaving yours. In response, you let your fingers move up then back down, grinning to yourself at the hiss he expelled. “I swear….”

“Hmmmm?”

“You’re gonna regret it,” Kenny finished, a smirk appearing on his face.

He was only partially wrong.

A second later his hand had removed yours, and he had taken over guiding himself into you. You clenched your eyes shut at the feeling, your body adjusting the best it could to the situation. It wasn’t that you had never had sex, it just had been a bit or so. And Kenny was thicker than you were used to.

The sharp breaths that Kenny was taking indicated he hadn’t anticipated the feeling either.

“Fuck….” It was a whimper from your mouth, as he took the time to fully push inside your body. His mouth was against your cheek, on your neck, on your chest.

There were a few moments before he settled, and a few more before you moved your body up towards his. The pace was slow to start, a small roll of hips meeting hips, mouths meshing together.

You were the one to escalate it further. Breaking your mouth from his, you went down to his shoulder, sinking your teeth in just enough to get the point across.

“God damn it….” Kenny’s voice was strained at best. You felt a brief moment of pride that you had caused that. He had one hand planted just above your own shoulder, and the other went down to your hip, then your thigh. He moved your leg just enough that your knee bent and he was able to have more control in the situation. And when he moved your leg further to the side, widening you, you twisted up against him almost instantly.

The moan that came from you was probably the most unholy of noises you’d ever made.

And it only encouraged Kenny further, as his hips moved against yours faster, harder. Your eyes immediately closed, as he moved his hand from your leg to your clit. It took far more strength than you knew you had to keep your leg in its place, as you felt all of your muscles start to tighten at his ministrations.

“Kenny….” His name was a whine at best from your mouth. Everything he was doing was becoming too much.

“You…feel amazing.” His words were breathed against your shoulder, where his head currently laid, the rest of his body still in motion. You couldn’t stop your hips from moving up against him more, as your orgasm built. You knew he could tell by the way he started to move his finger on you.

Even though you’d felt it approaching, your orgasm was stronger than you had anticipated. Your body moved against his, bringing him closer. Your head was pressed back against the pillow, your leg no longer splayed open but wrapped around his back.

It was less than a minute later that you felt Kenny groan out curses against your mouth as he too finished. The kisses continued throughout, going from intense and needy, to languid and satisfied.

No words were spoken when he moved off of you and to your side. Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, your heart rate high, your body filled with a pleasant buzz.

This had been a very unexpected night. An enjoyable, interesting, night…but unplanned all the same.

You were grateful that you were physically exhausted at this point. It was the only reason you knew you’d finally get some sleep.

Don’t you wake up yet, ‘cause soon I’ll be leaving you. Soon I’ll be leaving you, but you won’t be leaving me….

When you’d woken in the early morning, Kenny was asleep on his stomach beside you, the blankets stopping right at the small of his back. As your mind woke up further, the night came back to you.

You’d had sex with Kenny.

Like, really good, great sex.

It had not been whatsoever a thing you’d anticipated to happen last night…but it had.

And now the question was, what would today bring? If you hadn’t expected it, then neither had he most likely. You were friends, definitely, close friends for all intents and purposes. But sex was the biggest catalyst to change in relationships.

What were you now?

There was a chance that Kenny would be pleased with what happened the night before. There was an equal chance that he wouldn’t be.

You didn’t want to know where he landed. In your gut was a deep, heavy tightness that told you he wouldn’t be content with the situation, that he would either regret it or ignore it. Neither of those you wanted to hear or see. Both would hurt more than any nightmare ever could.

So there was only one option. You needed to get out before he woke up, before the awkward ‘morning-after’ conversation occurred.

Setting your mind to your plan, you oh so very carefully started to slide one leg from beneath the covers and down to the floor. You carefully shimmied your body to the edge as well, slowly pushing the covers off your torso and gently laying them on the bed. In a move that almost seemed like you were melting, you slithered the rest of your body off the bed, limb by limb, until you were practically crouched on the floor.

Standing up slowly, you tiptoed to the edge of the bed, finding your pants and shirt. You didn’t bother putting them on, instead going to your suitcase and carefully extracting fresh clothes.

It was then that you realized you couldn’t sneak out. You were sharing a friggen room with Kenny!

Shit shit shit, idiot, what the fuck do I do now?!

The idea of crawling back into bed with him and pretending you hadn’t tried to sneak off sounded amazing. But, again, you didn’t know how Kenny would feel when he woke up. And that anxiety and fear of the unknown were your driving force at the moment.

You made your decision quickly. Pulling on fresh clothes, you grabbed your toiletry bag and gear suitcase. The venue had showers, and that’s all you needed. Quietly, you made your way to the door and slipped out of the room, leaving your sleeping companion where he laid.

It turned out your sneaking out and fleeing had been for naught.

Kenny had found you at the venue during the day, and ever the gentleman, immediately asked if you were OK. He had feared that what the two of you had done had crossed a line with you, and he’d damaged you in some way or form. Once you’d assured him you had taken off for your own reasons, he seemed to relax. His assurances that you were still great friends, and he still wanted you around, were bittersweet to hear.

On one hand, you were happy that your friendship hadn’t been ruined by sleeping together. On the other hand, you did not enjoy having to be around a man you wanted that did not really want you the same.

So you settled for what you could get.

Over the weeks, you fell into a strange routine of spending nights with Kenny every few days; sometimes more, sometimes less.

Each time together would start the same, with casual conversation or video games or movies. And then one of you would touch the other in just the right way, innocent on the surface, but suggestive in motive. It always led to kisses being shared, gentle and exploratory, before moving into pressured and measured and leading. Somehow you always ended up on top of Kenny at that point, hands all over one another, clothes being pulled and pushed off.

The sex was always great, not just physically, but mentally as well. There was a…ease, to your being together. It was nothing for one of you to crack a joke in the midst of your actions, Kenny being the usual culprit. You liked that though, that it was just as easy to laugh together as it was to enjoy the other’s body.

About three weeks after your arrangement started, things changed.

This time, Kenny had made his way to your hotel room. The usual activities of food and chatting took place, but he had been the first one to directly make any type of move, using his hand on your cheek to draw you into a lingering kiss. There was no guessing or suggestion in his motive; it was clear what he expected to come of tonight.

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt like he was almost taking his time in his actions with you. In his every movement was a…tenderness? It was hard to put your finger on what it was. But every time a piece of your clothing came off, he kissed you thoroughly after.

When it came to the sex itself, he spent time enjoying every part of your body as he moved languidly against you. Your heels were dug into his thighs, your hands pinned above your head by his own. Each time he placed a deep, sucking kiss against your neck, or chest, you chewed at your lip.

The moment his finger pressed against your clit, you knew you were done for. He’d been moving into you, slow and steady and deep, for so long that you were on edge without question. But as he rubbed gently, your muscles tightened more and more, until you couldn’t stop your hips from curving upwards. As your body rolled through your orgasm, your toes curled and your heels pressed harder against him.

Your own orgasm was still sending small shocks through your body as his happened. The way he pressed his head against your chest and the firmness of his legs told you everything about how he was feeling.

When both of you started to go lax, Kenny removed himself from above you, all but flopping down at your side. You closed your eyes, taking in a shaky breath, your endorphin-riddled mind unable to work through what had really happened. All you knew was that you were still coming down from the high, and you felt like not only was your body flustered, so was your head.

“Promise me you’ll stay.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his request.

“You always leave…. I never wake up to you…. And just, uh, given how we are and…I want you to still be here when I wake up.” Kenny’s almost confused, but honest words, put your mind into overdrive.

When had he realized this weird pattern you’d found yourselves in always led to you leaving? Did it genuinely mean something to him to have you next to him, given your essential friends-with-benefits status? You figured leaving in the morning was always the best course of action for you to take, for both of you. It had never occurred to you honestly that he would want you to still be there when he woke up. He’d never really made any indication towards the idea at any point in any of your other interactions.

“Why?”

“Why what? Do I want you to stay?”

“Yea.”

“Because…I want you to,” he repeated. You turned your head, and he did the same, your eyes meeting in the dark. He searched your face for a moment, a small and almost awed smile coming to his mouth. “You are so beautiful.”

“Stop,” you groaned, your cheeks warming. “Answer the question, Ken.”

“I like being with you. Not just in bed, but at any time. I mean don’t get me wrong, I really like everything that goes on here.” You rolled your eyes, making him grin. “But it’s the other stuff too, maybe even more. The hanging out, the conversation. It’s never been just to get in your pants. It’s mattered, a lot to me. And I just…like you, like having you, like being with you.”

Was this another dream? Would his next sentence be ‘just kidding’? That would turn it into a nightmare for you. The irony that this all started because of a nightmare wasn’t lost on you in the moment.

“Say something,” he requested, your brain snapping back to the current moment. Your gaze met his again, and you felt the rate of your heart become faster, almost irregular.

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Why?”

“Figured you were OK with how things were,” you shrugged ever so slightly, your eyes going downcast.

“But you aren’t,” Kenny supplied, his assumption entirely too accurate. You shrugged again. “Tell me.”

“Having you somehow is better than not at all,” you spoke softly.

“That…that is just bad logic,” he decided. “I…I didn’t set out to put you in this position. It wasn’t…uh, I guess it should have been addressed long before this moment.” You said nothing, your silence enough of a confirmation he was right. “Just, tell me. Am I alone in this?”

“No,” you murmured.

“Then…stay. Tell me you’ll stay.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“OK. I stay. We’re here tomorrow. What comes from it?”

“…hopefully morning sex.” You rolled your eyes, looking back up to him, struggling to not let your serious face crack. Kenny looked pleased with his response. “C’mon. Give me something for that one.”

“You’re dumb,” you mumbled. Gazing at him, taking him in, you eventually leaned over, kissing him softly. Kenny’s hand came up to cradle your cheek, his head lifting up slightly off the pillow to deepen the kiss. The kiss trailed off into a few soft, short ones before you separated from him.

“If you wake me up before like, 7AM, I swear….”

The only response Kenny gave was to pull you back down into a kiss, which you both were smiling into.

It turned out it wasn’t the sex that was changing your relationship with Kenny. It was going to be waking up beside him the morning after, and waiting for him to wake up too.

These nights never seem to go to plan. I don’t want you to leave, will you hold my hand?

[seiche-archive]

really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost, don’t reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED.  @insolasidera​ TAGGING. Anyone wearing socks! Or if you just want to!

BASICS. FULL  NAME: Lance Charles McClain NICKNAME: The Tailor, Sharpshooter, Blue Paladin AGE: 19 BIRTHDAY: (Dark Voltron tell me Lance’s Birthday) ETHNIC  GROUP: Cuban NATIONALITY: America LANGUAGE / S: Spanish and English SEXUAL  ORIENTATION: pansexual ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION: demiromantic RELATIONSHIP  STATUS: taken  (verse dependent) HOME  TOWN / AREA: N/A CURRENT  HOME: the castle of lions PROFESSION: pilot of the blue lion, guardian of water and defender of the universe

PHYSICAL. EYES: Dark blue eyes that swell like the depths of the sea, the pits of the ocean, sparkling with life, like sunlight dancing on the waves. LIPS: Thin and soft, almost always pulled into a smile or a smirk, always wrapped eagerly around his words. But they can be serious, drawn in a line along his cheeks, not allowing distractions or to be deterred in anyway. COMPLEXION: Soft, light brown skin that never allows room for blemishes to peek through, kept in shape from years of moisturization, a routine grained into habit that kept his skin in mint condition, an almost pristine state. He’s almost too worried to have blemishes, to have imperfections on his skin. BLEMISHES: Years upon years of routine have disallowed blemishes to appear, or stay for very long, so no. None. SCARS: The bane of his existence, the lines of discoloration that decorate his back, tear along his skin where the explosion ripped at him, exposed his flesh. TATTOOS: The only ‘imperfection’ that Lance has ever allowed on his skin, the rippled of black in a sea of brown. The lower right hand ‘corner’ of his back, the silhouette of a bird flying away, soaring through the metaphorical sky. HEIGHT: 6′0 WEIGHT: approx. 165 BUILD: Though broad in shoulders, he is lanky just about everywhere else, muscles pulled over long bones, more strength than given at first sight. FEATURES: The features the ripple the expanse of his face are given to us at angular angles, pointed noses and chins that pull his face to a tight point. ALLERGIES: n/a USUAL  HAIR  STYLE: Dark brown hair that brushes the skin just past his ears, breaching the top of his neck, exposing the skin their. Parted at the top of his forehead right in the middle, curled in both directions curtaining either side of his face, framing his features. USUAL  FACE  LOOK: A look often identified as ‘smug’ or egotistical, one thought to be quite full of himself, his lips pulled into a smirk, an angular eyebrow quirked high on his forehead, eyes pointed in the direction of which the person he is speaking to. USUAL  CLOTHING: His casual outfit of preference is a white and blue three quarter sleeved shirt, light blue relaxed fit jeans and his favorite pair of blue and grey tennis shoes. All brought together with a dark green cargo jacket with muted yellow stripes on either sleeve just below the shoulder.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S: Being forgotten, not being good enough, losing those he cares about. ASPIRATION / S: Graduate from the Garrison, Save the Universe from Zarkon POSITIVE  TRAITS: Confident, Funny, flirtatious, always trying to cheer up his team mates NEGATIVE  TRAITS: Self-loathing, self-sacrificial, desperately seeks validation. MBTI: Entertainer (ESFP-T) ZODIAC: Leo TEMPEREMENT: Sanguine SOUL  TYPE / S: Equally Performer and Hunter ANIMALS: Tiger VICE  HABIT / S: Pads of fingers dancing along the edge of his palm, tapping along eachother anxiously. A gentle pinch on the interior skin of his wrist, a gentle tug to ease nerves. FAITH: Raised within the walls of people who hold religion in a high regard, he would say he believes in something, just isn’t quite sure what it is, exactly. He believes that someone, something looks over everyone, that there is an essence that influences all things. He wouldn’t call it ‘God’ wouldn’t attach such a name for it, mostly because all ‘God’ ever did for him was diminish him, swipe away his identity with a few words from a really old book. GHOSTS?: Absolutely. They are here, they are self aware and they are terrifying. AFTERLIFE?: He likes to believe the stories told him as a child, that if you’re good and do well in life then you will go to heaven and live a happy life with ‘God’, but now, with the events that have happened, the string of things that brought him to this point in his life, the point in ones life where reality is too heavy, where good people make decisions at the cause of someone’s life, even if that person is terrible and is doing horrid things. Good people make tough calls, so currently, he isn’t sure. It’s a nice fantasy, but it’s still just that. A fantasy. REINCARNATION: No. ALIENS?: Absolutely. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT: Besides becoming amused at the angry babblings of his relatives at gatherings, he holds no political statement, no side he would prefer over another. EDUCATION  LEVEL: Enrolled in collegiate level courses and piloting lessons, he didn’t do very well in school but in terms of intelligence he is quite advanced in math and tactical thinking.

FAMILY. FATHER: Alive (To be named) MOTHER: Alive (TBN) SIBLINGS: Older sister, older brother, two fraternal twin younger siblings. EXTENDED  FAMILY: Massive family on either side, too many extended relatives to count them all. NAME  MEANING / S: Lance means ‘Land’ and McClain means “Son of the Servant of Saint John” HISTORICAL  CONNECTION?: No

FAVORITES. BOOK: Action and thriller books that are short and sweet. MOVIE: Movies where ‘the hunter becomes the hunted’ 5 SONGS: Me Too by Meghan Trainor, Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots, Worth It by Fifth Harmony, Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars, Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira DEITY: none. HOLIDAY: Halloween MONTH: July SEASON: Summer PLACE: Varadero Beach, Cuba WEATHER: Sunny, warm, wonderful weather for surfing or just a day at the beach. SOUND: Upbeat music that’s nice to listen to, reminds you that life gets better eventually, uplifting music that your feet just have to move to. But also relaxing music that allows him to block out the rest of the world, allows him to zone out and hush his intrusive thoughts and grant him legitimate sleep. SCENT / S: Saltwater TASTE / S: fruity drinks, like lemonade. FEEL / S: soft typically, but loves the feeling of sand underfoot ANIMAL / S: likes dogs and cats, don’t make him choose. NUMBER: Number 1, always. COLORS: blue and grey

EXTRA. TALENTS: Providing a different train of thought, a different perspective for his team, sharpshooter, great at piloting under pressure BAD  AT: Self-preservation, thinking highly of himself, taking the high road TURN  ONS: Sense deprivation, lingerie, being tied up, someone taking control over him, but also overthrowing the other and turning the tables, taking back control, spanking TURN  OFFS: forced submission, choking HOBBIES: Listening to music, being with friends, playing video games, watching movies QUOTES: “I don’t mind not getting a happy ending if it means you get yours.”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about? A1: This blog is based off of the Netflix original series Voltron Legendary Defender, so pretty much that.

Q2: what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like? A2: orchestral af, weeping strings and a commanding brass and percussion. but also moments of lightheartedness between the instruments. (<--- What Sam said p much)

Q3: why did you start writing this character? A3: Because Lance is me, dialed up to ten in terms of flirtation. We both would much rather take care of others than ourselves. But we both know that we are the shit and fuck you for thinking otherwise. But that way of thinking isn’t always the forefront and definitely doesn’t come without it’s own consequences.

Q4: what first attracted you to this character? A4: The scene where Lance first bonded with Blue, that scene is gorgeous and honestly one of my favorites and it’s very vital to the plot.

Q5: describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse. A5: He flirts to much for my personal liking.

Q6: what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse? A6: Personality (though his is really dialed up from mine), fears, mindset, the ability to make others feel better but not exactly bringing up the issue (aka, making them feel better by forgetting about it momentarily)

Q7: how does your muse feel about you? A7: I hope that we would be able to be friends and that we could help boost eachother up positively, give eachother a nudge in the right direction when they need it. In all honesty, I’d hope that he would like me.

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions  with? A8: Honestly every interaction is different and unique in it’s own way, no one interaction is the exact same than the other. For example, Lance’s interaction with his twins in twin verses are vastly different. With Alex ( @saltybluelion ) Lance is the younger sibling and tends to be a bit more rambunctious, and then there are interactions with Shiro ( @insolasidera ) where Lance is pretty dwelled in on his thoughts and emotions. On the flip side there’s interactions with Keith, two very distinct reactions, you either get  a really pissed off, easily irritated guy who is ready to fight you on your every word ( such as with @vermiillion ) and then you have adorable, BEAVIE loving Lance who loves his life and his family (such as with @redlionstar ) All of these interactions are different and amazing and I love all of them.

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse? A9: I am heavily influenced by the things around me, so music, movies, literature. For me it moreso comes down to my ability to write a thorough and good response that I’m happy with rather than whether or not I have his muse. Because more or less, I am Lance. I say things, react to things how Lance would.

Q10: how long did this take you to complete? A10: I’ve been stopped quite a bit, so several hours. Plus those tests were long. Shrugs. A could of hours.

[evexe-n]

[Fic] Ataraxia

Please accept my humble offering of fic to mark my entrance into prideshipping hell.

Pairing: Kaiba Seto/Yami Yugi, Atem/Kaiba Seto Words:  2397 Additional Tags: Light Angst, Happy Ending, Character Study (of sorts), Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort             Summary:

Ataraxia [at-uh-rak-see-uh] (noun) A state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquillity.

---

"Listen, I know you're upset I had to cancel our date last week and-" Seto bristled and cut in, "Not everything that's on my mind always has to be about you, believe it or not."

Atem sneered "No, but this time it is, isn't it?"

--- This started as an exercise in writing dialogue around the prompt "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no" & it turned longer than expected. Established relationship. A character study of sorts.

On AO3

Notes:  

 The title is ironic, get it? Because it takes a long time to get to the point of ataraxia with these two haha ;-;

Anyway this starts from a premise that 1. Atem has his own body and 2. Seto and him have been dating/living together for a while now. It can be any AU you want as long as it has that. They're still figuring things out but they're trying their best, really. This is just a scene in their lives.

It's also not beta-read, so sorry for any errors!

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               Utterly exhausted, Seto unlocked the front door. He was glad to be home at last. His week so far had been anything but great, but today took the cake. While he normally wouldn't mind staying longer at the office, the sheer stupidity of today's issue only helped raise his frustration to extreme levels. He just wanted to fall onto the nearest flat surface, preferably his bed, and sleep for the next eight hours.

               Realistically speaking, he knew he was more likely to get five at most, but that didn't deter him from wishful thinking.

               As soon as the door closed behind him with a click however, he took notice of the person waiting for him in the hallway. With a determined look on his face, Atem made a move as if to speak before Seto cut him off harshly.

                "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no."

               Atem raised an eyebrow, caught awkwardly in the middle of moving towards the other. He recovered his composure quickly.

               "But I haven't even said anything yet!" he exclaimed rather forcefully.

               Seto just huffed and hung his jacket on the nearby coat rack before taking his shoes off. "It's 11 p.m. on a Friday night. I'm late from work, yet you're still awake. Either it has something to do with my job or with your friends, neither of which I am in the mood to talk about right now."

               His only reply was a slight tilt of the head and a noncommittal hum. "Hectic workday?" Atem asked after another beat of silence.

               In all honesty, Seto was serious when he said he didn't want to talk right now, but he was well aware that straight up ignoring Atem's inquiries or being too curt would only make matters worse.

               "Some incompetent fool messed up a line in the programming while updating the system." He started, moving towards the kitchen. He might as well get something to drink, who knew how long this conversation was going to take. Atem did have an annoying habit of dragging conversation out of Seto when it was least wanted.

               "A virus managed to sneak past, which corrupted several important files before someone noticed. Usually I wouldn't bother helping with these things myself but we've been understaffed lately."

               He fell silent at this, opening a cabinet and grabbing the nearest cup. He stood there another moment. Atem had followed him and now stood at the opposite side of their kitchen, most likely observing his every move. He considered if it was worth the effort of moving past Atem again to get something from the fridge. Not willing to risk facing the other yet right now, he turned the tap on. Water would have to do.

               "Hmm, you? Short on staff?" said Atem from his spot near the stove. Even without turning to look, Seto could tell that Atem's complete focus was on him. It was something that exhilarated him in any other circumstance, but in times like this he wished the other was less perceptive.

               "It can't be helped, two of our best senior IT employees both had to take sick leave at the same time." He took a sip of water, throat feeling parched yet somehow unable to swallow properly. He wondered though, how long were they going to keep this up this time?

               This use of idle small talk to avoid the real issue at hand. 

               The lingering quiet was pierced by Atem's soft voice.  "Even if you are short on staff, you shouldn't neglect yourself like this."

               Seto's fingers tightened around his cup. "Like what?" He spit out. He was sure that Atem would be able to see the sheer frustration in every line of his body, in the way his shoulders tensed and foot slightly twitched. When had they become able to see these little tics, these weaknesses in eachother? How Seto hated being read like this, unable to hide behind his familiar walls. There wasn't much use in those walls at all when the other knew exactly where to find the cracks and didn't hesitate to strike where it hurt.

               Atem's tone sounded several degrees colder when he spoke up again. "Staying up late, skipping meals, oh, avoiding me, the usual." He was getting closer to his breaking point as well, Seto could tell. He still hadn't turned to meet his lover's eyes but he could imagine the look on his face, eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth downturned to match his frown. The same old expression of disappointment Seto had to face so many times in the past.

               Refusing to even acknowledge the last part of the other's accusation, Seto replied, "Like you say, I'm used to it, it's no big deal." He put down his still mostly-filled cup and met Atem's eyes at last, face perfectly blank. "I'll feel better once I get some sleep, as you should as well."

               Atem snorted and moved around the kitchen table. "See, I almost believe that. That you're just moody because of the sleep deprivation, as usual. But you've been avoiding me for about a week now."

               He continued to move closer, gaze fixed on Seto. Like a predator prowling ever closer to its prey.

               "How I wonder what happened last week that caused you to just rush head first into work." Sarcasm dripped from his tone. He was really dead set on wringing this thing between them out of Seto, wasn't he?

               Those sharp, crimson eyes roamed his face, looking for any give. Seto tried as best as he could to keep it schooled in its current emotionless state. Atem was uncomfortably close now, and even the height difference didn't diminish how threatening his presence could be. Seto looked off to the side for a split second, towards the exit. Was it worth ignoring Atem, shoving him aside and just making a break for his room?

               As if sensing Seto's train of thought, Atem backed off some. He sighed.

               "Listen, I know you're upset I had to cancel our date last week and-" Seto bristled and cut in, "Not everything that's on my mind always has to be about you, believe it or not."

               Atem sneered "No, but this time it is, isn't it?"

               Seto's mouth clacked shut. As always, Atem had hit the nail right on the head, but Seto never accepted defeat gracefully.

               Atem pulled his fingers through his spiky hair, making some stray locks stick out even wilder. He closed his eyes. "You know I wouldn't have cancelled if it wasn't absolutely necessary at the time, right?"

               "I'm aware." Seto managed to grumble out between his clenched teeth. It wasn't Atem's fault, Seto was willing to admit, but that didn't make it sting any less when he got a text from Yugi of all people, telling him that Atem wouldn't be on time for their date. The text message was riddled with spelling mistakes, as it turned out, because Yugi had broken an arm and could only use his non-dominant hand. Atem refused to let him take a cab to the hospital, insisting he drive him instead. As ever, worried about his partner.

               "You can't fault me for helping my friends, Seto. Usually it wouldn't have been an issue but a lot happened recently."

               Yes, Seto knew. Everyone off to study or work or do whatever, constantly busy. So busy that nobody else was available to drive their friend to the hospital. And stay there for the better part of the night. On the one day Seto had made sure he'd have time off for their date.

               "I repeat, I'm aware. You've mentioned it before."

               He leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms. He wasn't sure anymore if the action was to distance himself from the other, or because he wanted to appear more casual. More unaffected, perhaps.

               Atem's eyes softened the slightest bit, voice gentler as he asked, "It's not really about last week's incident either, is it?"

               God, how Seto hated him. Hated how he looked at him as if he was fragile sometimes, as if he was something to be handled with care. It was plain wrong, he didn't need pity, not from anyone, least of all his rival. He did not want pity from someone who was never meant to see his weaknesses, his insecurities, his failures. He did not want that, he just.... wanted acknowledgement, of a sort. To be recognized as an equal. Even in the presumed safety of his mind, he refused to use the word 'validation' in any way. He was simply not sure anymore what it was he wanted from his rival. His lover.

               Last week's incident may not have been the cause for any of these... intrusive thoughts, he knew, but it was easier to pretend. Better to be bothered by a solitary event than consider it a symptom of a larger, underlying issue. 

               He was about to bite out another denial when Atem shifted again. Without a word, he moved to lean next to Seto against the sink. He kept enough distance to prevent their shoulders from  touching, but he could feel Atem's comforting warmth right next to him.

               Somehow, it was easier to let go like this, when he didn't have to look at the other. He cleared his throat.

               "No, it's not", he admitted truthfully.

               Atem leaned over, pressing their arms together shoulder to elbow.

               They stayed like this for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

               "Why did you agree to live here?" Seto asked.

               Atem seemed taken aback by the non sequitur. But Seto had to ask. He had been wondering for a while why Atem agreed to live here, of all places. When he'd asked if Atem wanted to move in, it had seemed a logical progression. Long before that point, Atem's personal belongings had been taking over small spaces throughout the house, slowly but surely. But even if Atem truly wanted this relationship, there was no reason for him to live at the mansion. They could've continued dating without the complication of officialy living together.

               It might have been easier, even.

               "What do you mean?" came the cautious response.

               "Here, at the mansion" Seto continued. "I spend most of my time at work, not here. And it's not close to where any of your friends live either."

               He could feel the Egyptian's cheek pressing into his shoulder now. It felt like he was smiling. "It's your home though. You don't live in your office, you live here."

               Their knuckles brushed lightly against eachother. Seto looked down at their hands, entranced. "I still can't see why you'd like coming back to an empty place like this," he mumbled, "You seemed happy when you lived with Yugi, closer to everyone else."

               "Everyone except you, you mean?" Atem closed the distance between their hands at last, entwining their fingers. His thumb started smoothing out soft circles on Seto's skin.

               Seto swallowed and grunted in affirmation.

               "I'm not dating any of them though, I'm dating you." He tilted his head to the side a bit, as if in thought. "And I was not, nor am I now, planning on playing the third wheel at Yugi's place for the rest of my life."

               Careful to keep their fingers entangled loosely, Atem moved to stand in front of Seto again. He put his other hand against the sink for support as he leaned forward.

               "Listen, you have every right to be upset about me 'ditching' our date, but at least give me a chance to make up for it instead of brooding around in your office." His face was so close that he couldn't be ignored. Seto found it impossible to look away from him, in fact.

               "Please", Atem added.

               Seto shut his eyes, letting out a sigh. Honestly, cancelling their date wasn't the issue, but rather the way it had happened. "I don't need you to 'make up' for anything. As you said, you had a good reason." It's not as if Seto actually expected him to leave Yugi to fend for himself while he was hurt. He knew Atem better than that by now. And loathe as Seto was to admit it sometimes, he might have come to somewhat care about Yugi as well.

               Atem chuckled. "Yeah, but having a good reason doesn't seem to be doing wonders to your mood, now does it?" He disconnected their hands and reached up, lacing his fingers together at the back of Seto's neck. "Feelings don't always overlap with logic, what a surprise. Doesn't mean they're not valid."

               Seto gripped Atem's hips, unsure of how to respond. He needed to get this conversation back to more familiar territory. There was only so much he could handle in one day and his previous exhaustion was starting to make itself known again. His shoulders slumped, strung up energy leaving  his body all at once. He leaned down gently, letting his forehead touch Atem's.

               "Just ask whatever you wanted to ask when I came in already."

               Atem's laugh rang through the kitchen, clear as a bell. "Well, I was going to suggest we order food and watch the recordings of yesterday's USA Duel Monsters Championship matches to analyze some of the newcomers' strategies, but if you'd rather go to sleep...."

               Seto pushed Atem lightly backwards, making him stand up and breaking their embrace. "Wait, let me get this straight, you waited up to corner me after I got back from work just so you could try to cheer me up by what? Watching some third rate duelists screw up while eating cheap take-out?"

              "You love breaking down the newbies' mistakes in excruciating detail, don't lie." Atem smirked.

               Well... He couldn't deny that.

               "Nonetheless, if this is your idea of a date, it isn't a very romantic one."

               Atem brushed their lips together in a quick kiss before heading towards the living room. "Sure it is. Nothing says romance like competitive card games. It's the very foundation of our relationship."

               Seto rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. "Ugh, fine. You go put on the TV, I'll order Chinese."

               He got a nudge in the side for his suggestion. "Hey! What if I wanted pizza!?"

               "Too bad!" Seto yelled after the other as he turned the corner.

               Atem's laughter echoed down the hallway. 

               He was glad to be home.

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So yeah, this started as way for me to practice dialogue and possibly warm up for a longer prideshipping fic I may or may not already have planned out.... I wanted to familiarize myelf with writing these characters first, so any feedback you have is welcome!

I will probably look at this after I wake up and find all the mistakes I made in it....

If you want to ask more questions or in detail stuff about why I write them the way I do, hmu!

[veronicatheslayer]

Why The Long Face? || Veronica and Zinnia

Veronica and Zinnia meet at the CSB and Veronica agrees to help with a little problem.

Veronica shifted her feet in her Louis Vuitton shoes, she wasn't quite sure why she had come along to the Council Of Supernatural Beings meeting. She didn't really put much stock in them or what they thought, but for some reason she thought that it was worth going. She couldn't tell you why, but she just had a gut feeling and after everything that had happened a gut feeling was something that she had learnt to follow. So, she sat there silently, looking around the hall of people she didn't know and wouldn't remember once she left. She had to admit though that she could feel the presence of several vampires and that alone was enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

Zinnia did not like asking for help, especially when it came to asking humans for help, but this problem was getting ridiculous. When getting the go-ahead from the council to house supernatural creatures, one of the deals was that her creatures could not hurt other beings. There was no room for conversation after that, but the current problem was that her creatures were currently being harassed by something, something that has the intent to kill. Without any wiggle room, Zinnia went to the council. And that's why she's here, annoyed and angry.

The thing that annoyed ​Veronica​ the most about these meetings was how much of a waste of time they felt. It felt like it took hours and hours for them to do anything. Esme called it bureaucracy and yet Veronica had long ago found that a much more accurate word for it would be a giant waste of time. There was currently an open forum, a place for any citizens of Ashkent Creek to come and talk to the rest of the Council of Supernatural Beings about whatever grievance they had and then the council would decide how to deal with it. The current person was whining about the difference between pidjeans and pidgeons, a minor thing that Veronica couldn't have cared about next. But then the chair moved onto "Zinnia Rhee," he was a pompous old fool but regardless he had an air of authority, "you have the floor."

Zinnia didn't bother to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Why was she here, surrounding herself with idiots that didn't know the difference between pidjeans and pidgeons? There was the possibility that someone here would help her, but from the looks of everyone, that was a slim possibility. Only when someone called her name did the Nogitsune actually pay attention. The person next to her held out the potted vegetable lamb and Zinnia took it carefully, setting the creature in her lap so that she pet the creature's soft wool. "My farm is being harassed by some creature, it's attacking my animals, both supernatural and normal, and it's getting ridiculous. It lives in the woods nearby and I need help getting rid of it." She explained, growing annoyed at the sight of some people that looked panicked or nervous, a bad sign when asking for help dealing with someone. She heard the creature in her lab bleat, but it did nothing to 'soothe' the Nogitsune's anger. "It killed one of my Baku and you aren't going to do anything?" She growled, her anger finally showing through in her body language and the furious expression on her face.

Veronica watched the situation unfold. A pretty woman was asking for help. Her farm was being attacked. Normally, Veronica would only volunteer her help in obvious cases with vampires or at least blood sucking creatures. However, in this case she couldn't help but feel sympathy for the woman. She was showing herself as vulnerable and rather than getting the help that she so desperately appeared to need, she was getting all but ignored. Veronica remained silent as she watched the situation unfold. She wasn't about to stand up and declare that she would help this woman, but she would certainly seek her out afterwards to ensure that she got the full details before offering her help. After all, there wasn't much that she could lose from seeing if this woman needed help. Meanwhile, the pompous man seemed to have grown tired of the issue at hand. "What do you expect us to do about it?" he drawled, his jowls and chin fat wobbling with every word that spilled out of his over sized mouth. "We are not a supernatural pest control service."

Zinnia focused her suddenly hard eyes on the man that spoken, her horrible mind conjuring up plenty of ways to kill him. But not here, that wouldn't be nice of her. The fat man reminded her of a pig, and Zinnia was more than willing to slaughter him. "You could do ​something​ ." She snapped, wanting nothing more than to release her creatures, wanting to let them kill everyone, but she couldn't do that. "Point me to someone who can do something, you're supposed to be the ones with connections." She wanted to insult these people, wanted to tell them that they are as useless as she always suspected. When silence followed her statement, Zinnia stood up and passed the lamb to the next person. "This is a waste of my time." She stated as she made her way to the door, not sure what she was going to do next, but knowing damn well that she was going to destroy the 'rules' that these people put up for her.

The fat pompous man raised an eyebrow at Zinnia before babbling on about some form that she would be required to fill in. ​Veronica​ however knew that she wasn't going to stay and listen to his drivel, and shortly before Zinnia rose from her chair and left the hall that they held the council meetings in, she slipped out. After all it wasn't that hard, she had been sat in the back and anyone could see that the levels of frustration that Zinnia was experiencing were more than enough to drive anyone out of that hall full of people who did nothing when the moment was required. That was why the Liberation had gained so much momentum. Because the council had done nothing about it. That and half of the members of the council had probably tried to join the Liberation. As Zinnia stormed out of the room, Veronica slipped towards her. "Hello, forgive me for the intrusion but I couldn't help listen to your problem in the meeting," she smiled sweetly at her, "I would like to help you, but before I can guarantee my services I'll need some more details."

Zinnia stopped not to far from the conference room to lean against a wall and think. She wasn't sure what to do now. The rules regarding her farm and the animals residing on it stated that neither she nor her animals could harm anyone or anything. This coupled with the fact that she had no idea what she was even dealing with made things extremely difficult. Part of her wanted to just find this thing and relocate it, move it far, far away from her and her farm. But, the other part of her wanted it dead, so far gone that it couldn't ever hurt other animals ever again. Then again, for all she knew this thing might not even be killable. Plus she wasn't even sure how to find it or catch it. Zinnia was at a loss. Then someone approached her, no, an opportunity approached her. With suspicion and hope in her eyes, Zinnia straightened up and looked at the other curiously. "I'd appreciate the help, but what is your name and what other information do you need?"

Veronica smiled gently in return. "Well, first of all if you could tell me what it is that you're dealing with then I'll have a better idea of what I can do to help, there are certain species" vampires "that I am better at dealing with than others, though I am sure I could give it a go," she was of course talking about killing it when she said dealing with it, in fact she was sure that much was obvious in Ashkent Creek, though perhaps she should have been clearer in her words, because she didn't realise how not clear she was being. "If you can't tell me that, then how long has it been plaguing you? What sort of animals does it typically feed on? How many has it hurt or killed?"

Zinnia wasn't entirely sure if she could trust this person to protect her creatures, but she didn't exactly have a choice. Who knows how long it'll be until that thing attacks another creature of hers. What if it kills one of them again? Some of them have defense mechanisms and tricks, but not all of them can defend themselves. But this person was offering to help, so maybe together they can come up with a way to properly deal with it. "I know it's fae because the Foireaux cat on my farm revealed that much, but what type I'm not too sure. It lives in the woods nearby and it's smart." She explained, giving the other all she knew about the creature. Knowing it wasn't much, Zinnia also answered the other questions the woman had asked, "It's been bothering me for a few weeks. It's attacked my more vulnerable creatures like Baku, Aniwye, and vegetable lambs. It's killed one baku and two vegetable lambs."

Frowning gently, ​Veronica​ smiled and nodded. She smiled out of being polite not because she was happy that this was happening. "Ok, I have one or two friends that could probably give me some advice about what they think we should do to handle this, but I will have to come by your house to have a real look." She shrugged gently. "I am not going to lie to you, I have no idea what half of those things are because I'm not a natural zoologist and I've only extensively studied certain types of supernatural creatures. But you can take care of the animals and I will try to make sure that nothing happens to them."

A smile came to ​Zinnia's​ face when the other woman agreed to help her, very happy to hear that someone was so willing to give her assistance in this stupid town. "Wonderful, thank you, so much, for even offering your help, you have no idea how much I appreciate this." She said, hoping that her appreciation was actually showing though. She wasn't that great at expressing emotions, real ones, so she was doing her best. "I don't mind you coming to my farm, but I will warn you that I have quite a few unsafe creatures." She explained, smiling in amusement when the other admitted to not knowing half the thigns she was talking about. "Sounds good to me, but if you do need help with this, thing, I'm more than willing to help, I have powers that might come of use."

Nodding gently, ​Veronica​ smiled once more. "It is my pleasure, I think I need to start gaining some extra experience anyway," she stopped herself from giving the rest of her life story and smiled gently. "I am more than happy to help someone in their time of need." She smiled gently and handed her a card. "My contact details are on that, give me a time that I can come over but I will need a little bit of time to prepare my equipment." She shrugged gently and smiled again. "Well I can't decide until we have a time to assess the situation, so before I say yes or no I have to make sure what I will need."

As much as the Nogitsune hated humans, this one seemed trustworthy. However, if this woman hurt one of her creatures, even on accident, there would be hell to pay. She was not against hitting someone when their back was turned. She would do anything to protect her creatures, even go against morals that she may or may not have. After receiving the card, Zinnia looked it over, wanting to get the name of the person who was nice enough to help her. "Veronica," She said, reading the words on the card and memorizing them, "I'll be in contact." Zinnia's smile was kind, mirroring Veronica's, and pocketed the card. "Then I'll keep the option of having my assistance on the table."