#there's so many tornadoes there all of a sudden and that's very unusual... and then!!

[ruvviks]

hey mallory! say cheese!

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners;

@mnwlk

[angel-ponders]

Twister vs. Real Tornados: Part 1

An analysis of fictional tornadoes and similar real life examples.

I’m going to be making three posts about the tornadoes in Twister vs. Real Tornadoes. This first post will cover most of them, and then the last two will have their own posts because there’s a lot more to talk about with those ones.

Disclaimer: I’m not a scientist or storm chaser. Just a hobbyist observer of the weather. Always listen to your local meteorologist when it comes to storm safety.

The 1969 F5

The first tornado of the film is the fictionally historic F5 that killed the protagonist’s dad. After losing her father in the disaster, she dedicates her life to improving the warning system and becomes a storm chaser.

An important thing to note here is that we no longer use the Fujita Scale. We now use the Enhanced Fujita Scale. The way they are measured is a little different, and something that was an F5 isn’t necessarily going to be an EF5. I’ll touch more on that more in Part 3 when we look at the film’s other F5.

Much like the Udall, Kansas tornado of 1955, this F5 struck at night and destroyed several homes. There wasn’t much of a warning system in the 50’s and 60’s so many didn’t realize it was coming. They didn’t really start to use sirens to warn people about storms until the 1970’s. Unless you were listening to the news, you wouldn’t know it was coming.

The Field Tornado

The second tornado (the first one with a grown up Jo) is a small one and would hardly be notable from a historical perspective.

Not all tornadoes are huge, neighborhood-destroying monsters. Most of the time they occur in rural areas, don’t cause much damage, and don’t even get fancy nicknames. Unless they do something special, like the first tornado ever filmed (see below), or they happened to destroy your barn, they aren’t very notable.

The Sidewinder/Waterspout/Cluster

This part of the movie is weird. There’s no break between these tornadoes, so they could be the same one doing super weird things, or couple back to back. But hey, it gives me a chance to talk about unique aspects of various types, so let’s go.

1) “Sidewinder”/Unusual Path

Most tornadoes go from southwest to northeast, but sometimes they do weird things. The Jarrell tornado of 1997 went the exact opposite direction. Sometimes they loop back around or make a sudden turn that isn’t expected.

2) Waterspout

Waterspouts are pretty self explanatory. It’s a tornado but water. They tend to be less powerful than regular land-based tornadoes.

3) Cluster/Multiple Vortex Tornado

There have, indeed, been many storms with multiple tornadoes in one system. When they’re close together, they are known as “Dead Man Walking,” because they sort of look like legs walking together.

The Skipping Tornado

Technically, each time it dropped down it was considered a new tornado, but part of the same tornado family. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if a tornado path is one or multiple tornadoes due to stuff like this.

Thankfully in modern times where everyone has a cellphone, we can more easily figure out if it was one continuous tornado, or multiples. Several historical tornadoes, such as the Tri-State Tornado, may have actually been several tornadoes instead of just the one. There’s not enough documentation of the event to determine it definitively, though.

-

The next two parts will focus on the last two tornadoes of the movie, which have several well known real life counterparts (all of which happened after the film was released). I want to go a bit more into detail with them so they each get their own posts.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[coldshrugs]

vacation, had to get away

featuring: rook and rebecca greene + baby alma word count: 2k note: a @wayhavensummer entry for the 7/11 prompt vacation. warnings for suspense/dark tones and imagery/the feeling of being watched. this isn't what i usually write, but it was a lot of fun!

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

When Rebecca tells Rook she doesn't want to go on this vacation, she doesn't tell him why. The car is mostly packed. The beachfront hotel has been booked for months. They bought the baby a swimsuit, for god's sake.

No, she doesn't tell him why. It isn't tangible enough to be convincing.

"Let's call it off. There are so many things I could get done at work this week."

"Becks, I say this with love: you're a workaholic. We're going to the beach for the week." He punctuates it with a kiss. Rebecca doesn't miss the unmarked beige envelope Rook slips into one of the last minute bags; she's not the only one with work in mind.

The following morning, they pile into the car with a few more duffles and that horribly itchy feeling on the back of Rebecca's neck.

She asks Rook to wait while she double (triple) checks the front door is locked. Of course it is.

The itch lingers as they pull out of the driveway. It sticks with her all the way to the edge of town.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," she beams once they're on the highway, once she can breathe.

Bare feet on the dashboard and sunglasses covering her eyes. The sun hasn't even peaked, but it's scorching already. They roll the windows down, and her hair, free from the usual oppressive bun, whips around her face. She feels like Becks for once. Not Rebecca.

"You know everything about me, B."

"C'mon, there's gotta be something." Her mind spins to the envelope in his bag. "One single thing."

"Okay," Rook begins. Full lips part into a hypnotic smile as he chews on the story. "I had a friend in college, Zack, that taught this contemporary dance class a couple weekends each month. It was a few extra bucks in his pocket and he got a couple dates out of it; a pretty sweet gig, right? One weekend he overdid it the night before his class. He shows up at my dorm, looking like death and practically begging me—" his voice rises— "'Otis, please man. I can't lose this job, can you just go down to the rec center and sub for me?'"

"You?" Rebecca recoils, silent laughter shaking her shoulders. "You can't dance to save your life."

"I know this. You know this. Zack should've known this, but apparently he didn't."

"What did you do?"

"I went down to the rec center, put on some Grandmaster Flash, and did the worst interpretive dance you can imagine."

Rebecca shoves the sunglasses into her hair, helplessly wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

"Zack still owes me," Rook sighs. "Wonder what he's up to now."

Rebecca forgets, for a moment, the nagging in her gut that tells her this is a terrible idea. This is what they need; a week away from Wayhaven, from the Agency, from whatever is... watching.

A week to be normal.

Yeah, this is good.

They stop for gas about halfway to the coast. Rook fills the tank, while Rebecca throws Alma on her hip and heads into the store.

She and the baby jabber back and forth about snacks, and she holds up packages of fruit gummies and crackers for Alma to choose with tiny hands. It's then that her stomach lurches. The unwelcome fingers of dread, cold and sick, squirm against her scalp. She drops both packages, almost drops Alma too. The doorbell chimes, and her grip tightens around her daughter as she turns toward the entrance.

It's only Rook.

And a man in the corner.

She didn't notice him before. He wears a dark suit, and his face is like a knife, and he rushes toward Rook. His sharp features are unsettling even in his haste. He knocks against Rook's shoulder with a rough thud. Rook, transfixed by the sudden touch, watches the man leave. As soon as he's out of the store, the knot of Rebecca's anxiety untangles.

"Rook?" She calls across the store. He doesn't budge. She picks up the small mess she made and calls for him again. "Rook."

Only when she touches his arm does he snap out of the trance with a heaving gasp. And then... he's back to normal.

"What are we munching?"

"What the hell was that, Rook? Do you know that guy?" Her voice is a harsh whisper as she tries to keep Alma from hearing her fear.

His gaze pans slowly, vacantly, from the door to Rebecca. "What guy?"

Like a thick, dry pill, apprehension sits heavy in her throat. She swallows it, along with her growing list of questions. She pays for their snacks and leads Rook outside. Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared for a fight until they're in the car again.

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

The week rips past them like a tornado through a small town. Their hotel room (a ground floor double-bed setup complete with the usual washed out pastel textiles and white wicker furniture) looks the part. Alma's scattered collection of shells too beautiful to part with, tacky airbrushed t-shirts draped over the chairs, and a healthy sprinkling of sand being ground into the carpet are evidence of that.

They spend the days exploring the aquarium, strolling the worn and salty boardwalk for unusual shops, dipping into local eateries for fresh seafood. Every other moment is spent on the beach; building sandcastles or running into waves with the baby between them and swinging her up at the last second. Salt spray in her bouncing mass of curls and her squealing laugh stolen by the wind.

Between the clutter and sightseeing, even under the blazing coastal sun, there's always something dark shifting just at the edge of Rebecca's vision. Faint shadows twisting out of view at the last second. The wound-wet itch of unease prickling her skin.

Someone is watching—of that, she's certain.

And then there's the envelope.

Rook's made an excuse or two to be alone. Just running out to grab more sunscreen, or picking up takeout because Alma's too fussy for a restaurant tonight. Innocuous things, but each time he goes, the envelope seems to follow.

Rebecca is sure it holds an answer, or at least a lead.

On the last night of their vacation, he leaves again. But this time, it's a trip for ice-cream with Alma in tow.

Rebecca watches them through the blinds, and once she's sure they're not turning back, she goes for his luggage.

It's not well-hidden. It's nestled under his dirty clothes, sealed with twisted thread that takes a few seconds to unwind. God, he's so unorganized, and for once she's thankful for it.

Carefully, she empties the contents onto the bed: hastily folded, handwritten notes; a few polaroids; and Agency documents? The documents are completely uncensored, not one black bar, not a single covered word. That tells Rebecca everything she needs to know—whatever Rook's doing, it's beyond either of their clearance levels. This is dangerous.

Shit.

That knowledge only nudges her curiosity over the edge. She skims over the pages, drinking in the information as quickly as possible. ...modern supernaturals seek reparations... inhumane treatment... would lose valuable specimens... Agency officials refuse to negotiate.

His notes list locations all over the east coast, some underlined, including the beach they're visiting. The photos show imprisoned supernaturals, each noxious gas cloud above them and their faces distorted in silent, exhausted screams. She recognizes some of them, though she's never been allowed to view them outside a transport situation.

But what's he doing with this? How on earth did he get all this?

A pounding knock shakes the door. Rebecca, torn away from this unplanned investigation, loses hold of the papers in her hands. They flutter to the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit." She scrambles to collect the documents and put them in order.

The knock booms through the room again, more impatiently this time.

Rebecca stalks to the door, dipping into her handbag for the Agency-standard volt gun as she goes. No one's there when she presses her eye to the peephole, but a third thunderous knock sends her stumbling backward with a choked scream.

"Agent Rebecca Greene." The voice is icy, hollow, and this isn't a question. They know her. "I would like to speak with you. Now."

The words are more instruction than threat. Rebecca expects any inaction on her part to change that, so she scampers to the door and twists it open.

It's him.

The man from the gas station. She knew it would be, but knowing and seeing—feeling, because every cell in her body tells her that being so close to this man... this creature... is unsafe—are very different things.

His skin (pale, and tight, and plastic-smooth) lacks definition, as if he's bloodless, and his blue irises are just a little too small, mouth a little too wide. He doesn't look real, and she's grateful the shadow of his hat obscures some of his face.

It doesn't hide the jagged line of his pointed teeth when he speaks though.

"That's better. May I come in?"

Against her instinct, she steps aside to let him pass. Careful not to touch her, he strolls across the room as if he's been here before. She wonders if he has, while they've been out.

His eyes fall to the half-opened envelope.

"What do you want?" Rebecca backs up until her legs bump against the bed.

He sucks in a breath and looks toward the ceiling. "I want to know why your husband is meddling . I want to know why he is watching a Watcher, badly. And—" he points to the documents Rook seems to keep with him at all times— "I have been waiting for this."

Without saying another word, he picks them up and starts reading.

Rebecca's presence is inconsequential. She waits in silence, the volt gun half raised. She tries to keep an eye out for sudden movements from the Watcher (and what the hell is a Watcher? Her mind swings through random bits of mythology and something between angel-but-not and urban legend seems to stick), but it's tough to look at him.

Finally, he exhales and, in a whisper Rebecca is sure isn't meant for her, says, "Friend and not foe, then." Louder, to her this time, "You read this. You witnessed."

"Y-yes," she croaks.

"And what did you make of it? What do you think?" His voice is cold, even, judging.

She doesn't know how to answer. A couple minutes is hardly enough time to sort out the ethics of this situation, much less her own standing. She's done no research, but she's never had reason to doubt the Agency. The only truth she knows right now is this man feels like death walking.

"I don't know what to think. I need to speak to my husband. If he's in trouble, I can help. The Agency can help—"

"If you so readily walk the line between advocate and adversary after witnessing an injustice, then you have made a decision, Rebecca. We cannot use you."

He pulls a pen from his pocket and gives it a sharp click (the movement and sound almost make her pull the trigger of her volt gun, almost) and scribbles something on the back of Rook's notes. Then, he neatly returns the contents to the envelope and tucks everything back into the luggage.

He turns to Rebecca, and his mouth, his smile is wide enough that the corners of her own throb. Phantom cracks that make her wince. Impossibly sharp. "I mean you no harm, and you will not remember."

In a blurred rush, he squeezes her shoulder. Her knees buckle as the door slams.

--- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ --- ☀ ---

"Becks? Hey. Hey, Rebecca, are you okay?"

It's Rook. An echo of him, anyway.

His voice is caught between the song she's humming and another unnamed voice that floods her mind like ice water. She doesn't want to touch that, so she focuses on the song.

And on Rook's warmth.

Dappled morning light across his rich brown skin. Rook softly snoring, softly singing, softly whispering the ways he loves her. She could stretch those small undeserved moments into infinity, the ones in which Rook smooths the roughest of her edges, turns her in his hands and makes her soft too.

He is the quiet thrill of crawling into already warm blankets, the taste of strawberry pie, the sun and the wind on her skin on a long car ride.

He is endless joy, and he is hers.

Right?

Then the warmth is a real pressure against her cheek.

Her eyes are already open but she sees him, both of them, for what feels like the first time. Rook, chaotically charming even through a cloud of worry. Alma, plump and curious, their brightest star.

"How was the ice-cream? Did you guys bring one back for me?" She leans up for a kiss.

Rook meets her lips, brows knitting in confusion. "You okay? You were really zoned-out for a second—and why is the volt gun out?"

She shakes her head. Not a thing in the world could be wrong. They're on their first family vacation. It's been a wonderful trip.

She doesn't understand why he looks so concerned.

"I'm not sure," Rebecca smiles, "but this vacation was exactly what we needed."

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @theninthdutchessofhell! have some fluff, a birthday!Cas, and an amazing year ahead <3

"Birthdays." Cas declares, eyes flitting across the brothers as he dramatically tosses his head.

Dean ducks his head to hide his smile.

Drunk Cas being talkative, loud and unstoic — well, it was something he could get used to. It'd take way more of an effort to get a hang of Cas being able to get drunk in the first place, but he's sure he'll eventually get there.

"Yeah," Sam grins. "It's yours today."

"I know, Sam." Cas immediately throws back, tone bordering on annoyed. What a baby — Dean snickers, enjoying himself.

Sam shrugs noncommitally.

"Birthdays." Cas repeats, enunciating each consonant painstakingly. Then he turns to Dean, staring with enough purpose to weaken a stronger man — but Dean's Dean, and this, he's definitely used to.

He holds the angel's gaze, lips curving in a smirk.

"Such a weird word." Cas continues, completely straight-faced. There's a graveness in his voice, as if he might as well have just assigned Dean his next political assassination, or grievously informed him that they couldn't save his goldfish.

"Huh?"

"It's almost like —" Cas stops completely, squirming as he tries to remember the word. "Like," He begins, to no avail. Dean looks on with fascination, as Cas's face traverses almost the entire spectrum of human (or ex-angel, he isn't sure what Cas is anymore, but he avoids grouping him in with their unimpressive kind mostly) emotion.

"Bird day?" Sam offers, finishing off the last of his glass, and Cas whips around to stare at him with unbridled admiration.

"Sam Winchester, you're a treasure to mankind." He tells Sam proudly, earning a snort from Dean, and a bark of laughter from the 'treasure' himself, as he lugs himself to his feet with a relaxed 'that's my cue' look at Dean.

"So are you, buddy." Sam pats Cas, smiling toothy and pinkcheeked, as Cas pulls him in for a fierce hug. "So are you."

When they separate, Dean realizes he's almost done with his however-many-th bottle, and flings it at Sam who catches it in a rare stroke of luck. He proceeds to collect as many emptied bottles as he can in his ginormous arms, to drop off at the kitchen because he's a regular boy Scout like that — and then waves goodnight at the two of them before hobbling off to his room.

Cas reseats himself next to Dean, bright-eyed and satisfied.

"Bird day." He repeats, as if for validation, when Dean finds himself caught staring, though it's really not his fault — comfortable, content Cas has always been a weak spot, and he's too beautiful for him to help it.

"That's funny, I guess." Dean manages.

Cas's face scrunches, suddenly doleful. "Bee day would've been funnier."

"Hey, hey," Dean nudges him, as if that could get the sad glint out of his eyes. "Some people — not me, but you know, others — call it a happy b-day sometimes."

"They do?"

Dean nods.

"Oh." Cas sighs thankfully, the frown smoothening itself out. "I'm so glad to hear that."

And with that, he leans over to take a swig of Dean's beer, eyes crinkling at the hunter — back to normal, or as normal as happy-drunk Castiel was ever going to get — leaving Dean stunned in a sudden, overwhelming tornado of emotions.

It's like a switch had flipped.

A switch, stuck for longer than a decade in the middle, apparently the one holding Dean back from giving in all this time, and how badly he's wanted to give in, holy shit —

And now Cas has practically gummy-smiled it to where it should always have been; literally goddamn smiled, hazy-eyed and glorious, his way past the last, assumed-impenetrable wall of Dean's defenses, and his heart, because god-friggin'-dammit, he loves Cas, of course he loves Cas, and —

How had he ever imagined he could hold it in forever?

Blissfully unaware of Dean's revelation, Cas just frowns as he returns the hunter his bottle. "Dean, do you think anyone truly enjoys the taste of —"

Now or never, Winchester.

"— beer, or only tolerates it for the effects it has on their central nervous system, because —"

Dean draws a quick breath, tunes the voices in his head out, and leans in abruptly to press his lips to Cas's cheek.

Cas, obviously, stops speaking entirely.

Dean gulps.

Then slowly, Cas turns, lips parted, and starry eyes directed straight at Dean, and this time Dean doesn't even have to convince himself to go for it, and finds himself leaning closer to plant a kiss on Cas's temple.

Cas's smile grows wider, and Dean thinks he lets out a lightheaded chuckle.

"You humans," Cas ends up saying, shaking his head, tears glistening in his eyes. "And your needless tendencies to overcomplicate everything."

Dean blinks, pulled out of his reverie by Cas's unusual remark, but he doesn't get a chance to ponder — because Cas is cupping his face determinedly, leaning in, and finally, finally meeting his lips in a kiss.

It lasts all of a minute, really, but feels like twelve years worth of promises, and faith, and belonging — and an eternity of love.

"Happy Birthday, Cas."

Dean's voice trembles as he grabs the lapels of his age-old trenchcoat to hold him right there.

Cas doesn't seem like he intends to move either, for a very, very long time — though there's a smug lining to his voice when he speaks, and it's so exasperatingly the Cas Dean fell for, it's unreal.

"Such a weird phrase." Cas whispers back. "Almost sounds like 'I love you', wouldn't you say?"

"You're a little shit when you're drunk." Dean rolls his eyes, and kisses Cas again just because he can, now.

Cas kisses him back eagerly, and Dean wonders if he's accidentally acquired the remnants of Cas's grace when they pull apart, because he could swear this feels like wings.

"Of course. And I love you too."

[lokispettigerr]

To Summon A Witcher: Geralt x Reader Chapter 1 (NSFW) Smut

Summary:  Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city's colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Taglist: In reblog

Word Count: 1769

Warnings: This shit spooky, fam.  Graveyard, and corpse mention.

A/N: This is the first-ever Geralt fic I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Leave me your thoughts in the comments or in an ask!  

“Yeah, it’s this huge guy with stark-white hair, golden eyes, and seriously, a body that could pick me up and snap me like a twig,” I told my best friend, Genny.

“Sounds hot. I’m not sure I understand where this is a problem?” She swirled the coffee mug around, stirring up the settled liquid in her latte. “I mean, unless you are waking up to find that these dreams with the ‘Daddy-white-haired-tree-man’ are really wet dreams that soak your covers through… I could see that as being a problem.” She laughed a musical beautiful laugh. I danced around her comment, not wanting her to know how I felt when I woke up from the dreams of the mysterious man or the nature of some of the dreams which truly did feature bare skin, hard muscle, and moans that rang out in unison.

“Genny, I have never seen this man before in my life, yet he has been in every dream I have had for months now. I just don’t know what it means.”

“Sure, but you��ve had to have seen him somewhere.” She looked around us now, glancing all about the outside patio of the coffee shop that was nestled between a bakery and a uniquities store. People were milling about, their arms full of shopping bags or clutching briefcases or talking on their cell phones. “Honestly, I want to see this guy.” Genny licked her lips. “Maybe he is nearby right now,” she whispered, “Either that or he was the main stud on some porn. Yeah, that’s likely it.”

I stared at her blankly. Why did everything have to come back to sex? I mean, to be fair things always came back to sex for the both of us and this was likely one of the reasons why we enjoyed each other's company so much, but this was serious. Dreams mean something, or so my mother taught me to believe.   And I couldn’t help but think that the man in my dreams had something to do with my current predicament. After all, they had started shortly after things took a turn for the worse.

I’d felt it on more than one occasion, and lately with the way things were going whatever beasty was following me seemed to only be growing stronger.

It had first started on a cold, wet day. The rain had been steadily falling for more than a week, but that day the wind was stirring maddeningly and there had been a tornado warning.

When the storm began I was at work and after the numerous alerts and warnings, me and my coworkers were all told it would be best if we left. In my rush, I dashed out of the door with only my keys.

I had forgotten my bag and my phone and all the contents that I had slowly collected over the years and kept in a satchel as a sort of talisman to ward off evil spirits and the like that seemed to want to attach themselves to me.

The satchel contained an odd assortment of things: a small vial of salt, a clay statue with its own strikingly unusual appearance, a stone of jet, a globe of labradorite, and the tooth of a black cat that all helped me to feel safe, to be protected and to walk unnoticed throughout the world-- at least in the realm of those things not living.

From childhood, I noticed shadows, without shape or form. Most of the time they were harmless. As I grew older, I became more aware of other creatures and entities. The shadows would go from playful to predatorial.

I quickly grew scared and when my mother found out she took me to see a children’s therapist. The apparitions did not stop, they poured forth latching onto my fears, my desperation and hopelessness. It was as if I had become a house for them to dwell within.

I became haunted.

I passed through the hands of multiple therapists, too many to even count. None of them could help me. I was a child becoming a teen that was out of their depth. They either pitied me, despised me, or feared me.

Eventually, my mother heard tell of a spiritual healer, who was no more than a witch, yet she was the only one who could help.

Instead of claiming that I was delusional or sick, the healer praised me for my abilities and told my mother I was gifted, however, the healer sensed the dark energies threatening to consume me and crafted the satchel that had been blessed and enchanted with wards to keep me safe.

And from then on, I carried it with me wherever I went.

That is, until the day the tornado hit.

I’d left work feeling hopeful that I would make it home before the storm became dangerous. But the further I went, the harder the storm raged. I lived in an aged and historic town and was lucky enough to be within walking distance from my work. A few blocks and I would have been home.

I dashed through the rain, taking care not to slip and hurt myself. My keys jangled loudly against my hip.

Rainwater was pelting my eyes and I had trouble seeing. I was soaked. Lightning flashed while thunder rumbled threateningly.

If I would have left a few minutes earlier from my work maybe things would have been different.

If I would have not forgotten my purse with the enchanted satchel within maybe things would be better for me.

Being a human means making human mistakes and mistakes breed consequences that are not often too kind.

I’d rounded a corner at the French district, splashing through puddles when I came to the wrought iron, overgrown with ivy and tangled weeds, entrance of the graveyard.

People often said the graveyard was haunted, cursed.

There were ghost walks and spirit tours that brought groups of people to this very cemetery so they could “Oooo” and “Aahhh” and romanticize about all the horrific deeds that had taken place here. They would return home or to their inns or their taverns and tell the stories they had heard over a beer with a friend, or sitting in front of their fireplace, or tucked into a cool bed on a winter night.

The locals all knew this cemetery was bad news, nothing good ever came of it except for the endless revenue of the ghost tours that the cemetery enticed.

I planned to continue on down the block, straight past the graveyard, but a harsh streak of lightning cut through the sky overhead and thunder cracked so loudly I could feel it deep within my very bones.

Though I cringed at the thought, I knew that if I cut through the graveyard I would be home in half the time.

I gulped and with a look of harsh determination on my face, I ran into the graveyard, pushing my body through the gate.

It closed behind me with a harsh clang, but I continued.

I wasn’t interested in taking my time like some of the tourists do when they come here to meander and ponder while they look at the ancient graves, too old to even have names or dates on them, or too overgrown with tangled foliage for anything to be made out.

There was a worn path beneath my feet, and the rainwater had caused it to be treacherously slick with red clay mud. It threatened to be surpassed and covered in its entirety by tall and leggy green weeds. They slapped relentlessly at my calves and thighs as I ran through.

The weeds made me run blindly. I thought if I stayed on the path it was safest, but I was wrong.

My foot caught on a thick, twisting root that lay horizontally before me. It snaked from one set of graves to another, likely gaining nourishment from the rotting corpses underneath the ground.

I fell, catching myself on the heels of my hands. My pants leg was ripped open and a sharp, sudden pain could be felt above my knee.

I sat up, thoroughly covered in mud and grime from the cemetery, my hair completely soaked through, my clothes stuck against my skin and inspected the gaping wound above my knee. It wouldn’t need stitches, but as soon as I got home I would have to place some butterfly bandages on the wound, or it was sure to leave an ugly scar.

A wet warmth spread along the skin of my knee as my pants soaked up the blood that was pouring forth.

Just then the wind gushed maddeningly, causing the trees in the graveyard to sway and the grey Spanish moss to dance. The trees creaked and groaned with their movement.

Nearby I heard a clicking noise and I couldn’t place it to anything natural. I shifted, sitting up straight, remaining still so I could hear whatever the noise belonged to.

A shadow crossed my periphery and I turned my head towards the movement.

Whatever it was, was using the headstones to hide and shifting between them, manipulating the shadows of the graves to appear “natural”.

But the feeling of dread I had that I often associated with the shadow beings from my past was all too familiar.

My hands fumbled around for my purse. I would grab the enchanted draw-string satchel and would put an end to this shadow thing coming after me.

It was then, I realized my mistake. I had left my purse at work.

“Shit!”

The clicking grew louder and before me, the shadow began to take form.

I knew I couldn’t turn around. All I could do now was keep moving forward, towards home-- towards safety.

The shadow-being before me darkened, swirling and shifting menacingly, and I rose to my feet charging through it.

When I passed through its still collecting form, I felt a cold that seeped into my bones and gripped with a deadly claw around the deepest parts of my being. It was as if, in doing that it knew me. Everything about me.

My darkest desires, my deepest fears, my hopes and my failures.

I ran from the storm.

I ran from the graveyard.

I ran from the shadow that threatened to abolish me.

Things have been a nightmare since and the depression I was treated for long ago with the help of the spiritual healer is slowly lurking back.

I am certain the shadow beast followed me home, and what I am most uncertain of is how to get rid of it.

**** Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! Please get this fic out into the tumblr verse by reblogging, commenting, and even sending asks if you feel like it! If you would like to support me head on over to my Patreon where you will get access to my fics before anywhere else and much more! Or fuel me with Ko-fi! Until next time! Peace, Loki’s Pet Tiger

[always-anxious612]

Magic in the Air: Chapter 3

Description: Roman is struggling. Logan pushes a little too far. Things don’t go well to say the least.

Pairings: roceit, analogical, eventual intruality, platonic drlamp

Warnings: panic attack, sharp objects, yelling, small injury mention, crying (let me know if I missed something or you want something tagged)

Word Count: 2,913

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9

It had been a couple of weeks since Roman had discovered his magic and with Logan’s help, he had actually progressed quite a lot. He could actually manage to lift and control a few small objects on his own now, though he still tended to at least rattle a few objects when he got startled or overly excited. Virgil, who had at first sat in on Roman’s lessons with Logan to make sure nothing went wrong, now found himself going simply to watch the two test what Roman could do. Everything was going great. Virgil would even say things had been going better than ever. He should have known better to think the peace could last. And the first hint should have come yesterday morning at breakfast…

“Ok, Roman. You’ve done quite an exemplary job so far at learning how to control you’re magic. I was thinking that we could perform an experiment or test if you will.” Logan proposed.

“What kind of test?” Roman questioned, ignoring his brother’s jealous grumblings at the mention of his magic.

“Well, I’d just like to test your skills if you don’t mind. I’ll explain it more later this evening when we have another session.” Roman looked slightly wary, but his nod was determined. As Logan let an excited smile flit over his lips, Virgil felt a twist of apprehension squeeze his gut. Strange, but not unusual for him. With an annoyed sigh, he shrugged it off.

Then another hint that afternoon when he’d been attempting to help Roman for a quiz he had in his next class.

“You know, you’re lucky that the university is only like five minutes from our house for the amount of times you run back here to get one of us to help you cram.”

“I can’t focus when I study by myself.” Roman pouted making Virgil roll his eyes.

“Let’s just get started.” He grumbled. They studied for about two minutes before Roman got distracted again.

“Hey, Virge?” he started, staring blankly at the wall in front of the two. “Did you think my prop looked ok?” That—was not what Virgil was expecting.

“Roman, of course. Your prop was beautiful.” Virgil assured, remembering the highly detailed book Roman had turned in a few days after he discovered his magic.

“Hm, thank you.” He replied quietly.

“What brought on the sudden doubt, Princey? You were pretty proud of it when you showed it to us a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh, um, the results came out today. I—didn’t win. I wasn’t runner-up either. The winner and runner-up were both superb, though. They deserved it. I’m surprised you didn’t see the announcement. You should have heard about it in your art class this morning.”

“I was working on a set design for the play all morning. I didn’t bother listening to announcements. Sorry, Ro. For the record, your prop was amazing.” Virgil couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was bothering him, but he tried to shake it off. He was probably just reading too much into things again. Roman offered a half-smile at the compliment before looking at the clock.

“Oh crap, I have to go. I’m gonna be late!” he groaned, scrambling to collect his things. Virgil only laughed, still trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach.

Then, after Roman and Logan got home from classes, there was one more hint. One more chance that he could have actually listened to his gut and spoken his thoughts. How he wished he actually did that.

“Ok, Roman,” Logan began looking at his notes from the past weeks, “The test shouldn’t be too hard to accomplish, but I want to push your limits a little.”

“Push my limits?” Roman questioned, tone bordering on nervous.

“Yes. You have demonstrated remarkable control the past few lessons and have adapted to your special skill quite well. However, so far we’ve only been having you move or float one or two items at a time. I would like to test just how many items you can levitate at a time.”

Virgil chewed his lip at Logan’s words. Of course, the plan was brilliant. It would help them know how much control Roman really had and what his limit was, but…Virgil couldn’t help the odd feeling gut. Especially when he glanced at Roman and saw a flash of apprehension in his eyes. But…it was normal to be nervous. I mean, he was about to really test his ability for the first time after all

“You sure you want me to unleash all of my amazing skills, Lo?” he chuckled, hiding his nerves with practiced ease. Logan only sighed and rolled his eyes, though a small smile briefly flitted over his lips.

“Quite sure.” He replied.

“Ok. Let’s get to it, then.”

Honestly, after that, everything had actually been going ok. Roman had had about ten objects in the air and was balancing them all pretty well. Unfortunately, he did seem to be struggling with holding everything. Which wasn’t a problem until Logan tried to add two more items.

“I can’t Logan.” Roman had protested, trying not to remove too much of his attention from the other stuff.

“Fine, just one more then.” Logan pushed.

“Logan, I can’t.”

“Roman, how do you know if you won’t even try. The most that will happen is you drop all of the items, which we made sure weren’t breakable for this exact purpose.”

“I don’t know, Lo. Maybe you should let him stop here.” Virgil jumped in, the odd feeling in his gut becoming sharper than ever. Too bad he listened to it too late.

“If we don’t push the limits of what you can do, how will you ever learn? It’s just one more item Roman.” Logan insisted.

“I—I can’t Logan. I can’t do it. I can’t—I can’t do anything. Just stop” and just like that everything fell apart. Instead of dropping everything, though, things started to fly through the air, matching the intensity of Roman’s emotions.

           Virgil had felt it. All day he had felt that something was wrong. All the hints that Roman wasn’t having the best day were there. He could have prevented this he knew he could have. He should have noticed how wary Roman looked when he Logan mentioned setting up the test that morning. He should have seen the insecurity behind Roman’s shrugged off disappointment when he didn’t win the prop contest. He should have paid more attention to the fear that flashed across Roman’s eyes when Logan told him what the test was. But he didn’t. And now, all he could do was grip the sofa as objects swirled violently around him. He couldn’t see where Logan had hidden but he knew Roman was at the center of the tornado of stuff.

“Roman!” he tried yelling over the sound of crashing and clanging. “Roman calm down.” But if anything, the barrage only increased. Virgil was just trying to think of a way to make his way to Roman to calm him down when he saw Logan out of the corner of his eye. He was huddled not very far away from Virgil in the corner of the room. The look of fear in his usually calm and collected eyes made Virgil’s heart twist with fear of his own, but not as much as the sharp shard of glass flying directly at Logan did.

“Logan!” Virgil screamed, not thinking as he lunged to get in front of his friend. He tensed, fully expecting to be impaled by the glass, but…nothing happened. That didn’t mean—Logan couldn’t have somehow still gotten—Virgil hesitantly pulled away from where he had landed on Logan’s chest, scared of what he would find. He definitely didn’t expect to find a strange clear dome surrounding them both, glowing a soft purple.

“V-Virgil.” Logan whispered, staring at the glass that had dropped right outside the dome.

“Wha—” Virgil started, dumbfounded

“Protection magic.” Logan gasped, looking back up to him, eyes wide. “Virgil you have magic. You have a special skill. Protection magic. Making shields in any shape in order to protect. It was most likely triggered by your fight or flight response.”

“I—I what?”

Logan was about to answer when another object slammed into the wall beside them right outside of the dome that Virgil had apparently created.

“We have to get to Roman.” Logan said instead. Licking his lips nervously, Virgil nodded in agreement. If he could just keep the shield up, they could get to Roman and calm him down. Luckily, Virgil’s adrenaline was still high, and the flight or fight response Logan had talked about apparently picked fight. He could do this.

“Follow me, Logan.” Virgil instructed, getting up and taking a tentative step forward to see if the dome would move with him. Thank God it did. In no time, they were to the center of Roman’s literal emotional mess, only flinching a few times when things flew against the side of the shield. As Virgil neared Roman, he could feel the dome starting to flicker. He was calming down a little after all. The center wasn’t nearly as bad as anywhere else. Almost peaceful, actually…like the eye of a storm (a few small objects whizzing past the only exceptions). By the time Virgil knelt in front of the panicking actor, the dome was completely gone.

“Ro. Roman, listen to me.” he began, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice “Just take a deep breathe. We—”

“Roman?!” a frantic yell made Virgil’s head whip toward the front door where Dee had just come home. That meant Patton and Remus would be home soon too. They needed to hurry. Virgil quickly turned his attention back to Ro, believing that Dee would be smart enough to keep his distance and find some cover while he and Logan tried to calm Roman. Apparently he thought wrong because soon Dee was right next to them, though his face was littered with quite a few small cuts and a couple of forming bruises. As much as Virgil wanted to yell at him for doing something as stupid as diving into a tornado of flying objects, he focused on trying to get Roman’s breathing regular. After a while of breathing exercises, encouragement, and (after getting hesitant permission) comforting hugs, Roman’s breaths evened out, though he had started crying quite hard somewhere in the mix.

“That’s it, Ro. Deep breaths. You’re ok.” Virgil soothed as softly as he could over the noise around him. After one more deep, calming breath, Roman collapsed sobbing into Virgil’s chest and everything else seemed to collapse with him. Everything stopped mid-motion and came crashing to the ground, leading the way to a silence that seemed extremely misplaced after all the racket.

“’M sorry.” Roman muttered, pulling away from Virgil after he had calmed down his sobs a little.

“I—I was just having a—I was struggling with—I didn’t…I didn’t have a great day and I, um, I got scared when I couldn’t handle everything and stuff flew out of control. I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” He managed between hiccupping breaths.

“No, Roman, it is I who should apologize. I believe I got so carried away with the excitement of doing experiments that I did not stop when I should have. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you are the one who would know your limitations the best.”

“Ro, next time you have a bad day, love, you should really try telling someone. It can help, I promise. I—I used to bottle things up too, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t do anything but let the pain build up until it’s forced out in a less than ideal way.” Dee stepped in, cupping Roman’s face gently. Roman leaned into the touch even as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“Of course, darling. You know we all support you. We love you, Roman. M-Me especially. The—The love part, I mean.” Dee replied, not moving his hand from Roman’s face. Wait…did Dee stammer? Virgil raised an eyebrow at the two. Of course, Roman’s affections were obvious, but Dee had always been a master at hiding his true feelings.

“Um—what? Y-You?” Roman breathed confused. Dee nodded leaning closer and moving so that he was cupping Roman’s face with both hands. Both of their faces were flushed bright red as they hesitantly leaned closer and—Ok that was enough for Virgil. Trying his best not to ruin their moment, he grabbed Logan’s arm and made a quiet but hasty retreat as the other two finally melted into a kiss.

“They had feelings for each other?” Logan gaped, glancing back at the blushing pair.

“Logan. Roman has obviously been into Deceit for a while now. I wasn’t sure about Dee, but I suppose it looks like he returns the feelings.” Virgil snorted, heading to the kitchen to make some tea.

“Oh.” Logan replied, glancing at the broken glass and debris as he followed Virgil.

“We should clean up.” he pointed out

“We will, Lo; but first let’s just relax for a second. A lot happened just now.”

“Right.”

Something in his tone made Virgil glance up, eyeing his friend carefully. He had adopted his normal neutral expression once again, but Virgil knew better. He could see the guilt tinging his expression. Setting down the two cups he had just gotten out for the tea, he sighed and turned to face Logan fully

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right?” he assured. Logan just stared at the floor.

“Lo—”

“If I hadn’t pushed him so hard, he wouldn’t have…This wouldn’t have happened. It was foolish of me to let my excitement get the better of me.” Logan interrupted, with a hard edge to his voice.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being excited.” Virgil urged. He honestly loved seeing Logan so excited. It was rare to see that light in his eyes. It was rare seeing him express much emotion in general other than a brief flicker of a smile or a flash of something in his eyes.

“And Princey—Roman was already having a bad day. You may have added the thing that made everything boil over, but trust me, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have taken much to do that anyway. If anybody is to blame. It’s me.” Virgil confessed guiltily.

“You?”

“Yeah. I mean, I felt like something was off with Ro the whole day. All the signs that he wasn’t ok were there, and I just—I don’t know I had a feeling that something was wrong, but I didn’t do anything. If I had just talked to him…I don’t know, I could have helped. I could have stopped this.”

Logan’s silence was all it took to convince Virgil that he really was to blame. He should have spoken up earlier.

“I should apologize to him. This is all my fault.” He whispered, glancing back to the living room where Dee was now holding Roman close and rocking them back and forth.

“Falsehood.”

“What?”

“Falsehood. It is not your fault, Virgil. There was no way for you know that he was doing so badly, no matter what you felt. Roman is an excellent actor, after all. And even if you had talked to him, Roman is also very stubborn. There’s no guarantee that he would have told you what was wrong or that it would prevent all of this. And—And I shouldn’t have pushed him so much; but I—I suppose that there was no way I could have known how bad he was either…” Logan swallowed thickly before continuing “There is no use dwelling on the past right now, anyway. The fact is that we couldn’t prevent it, but now we can learn from it. I believe it’s good that Roman finally got his feelings out, even if it did cause quite a bit of destruction. Now we can help him and learn to recognize when he’s not feeling the best.”

Virgil nodded hesitantly at his words, before impulsively throwing himself at Logan’s chest. Neither of them had always been the most “touchy-feely” type, but Virgil couldn’t help himself. He needed a hug. After a second of surprise, Logan hugged him back tightly and Virgil sagged in relief.

“And thank you, Virgil.”

“Thank you for what?” Virgil asked, voice muffled from where he was still buried in Logan’s chest.

“For saving me. If not for your forcefield…well, just thank you.”

Virgil glanced up at the softness in Logan’s voice, leaning away from the hug slightly.

“Anytime, Lo. Th-Thank you too. For, you know.”

Logan smiled softly and nodded with an odd look in his eyes before, surprisingly, pulling Virgil back into the hug.

“I love you.” Logan whispered squeezing him tight. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat at the words, his face burning just as bright as Logan’s probably was judging from the heat radiating from his face. But still, he couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his lips as he squeezed Logan just as tight.

“I love you too, Logan.”

His new magic, the mess, and the rest of the world could wait. Virgil was perfectly content to stay in Logan’s arms. Perfectly content to soak in the words they’d just confessed. Perfectly content to—to be in love. And in love he certainly was.

 Taglist: @catolicabuena, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @its-always-the-witching-hour, @sure-i-exist

[horrorslashergirl]

Chromeskull x The Collector- Mutual Destruction

Alright, I don’t know what I just did, but I had to get this out of my system.

Warning: Very NSFW, also if you are uncomfortable with manxman, don’t read.

Pairing: Chromeskull x The Collector; Jesse Cromeans x The Collector

They say that friends are always there in times of need and loneliness. There are so many types of friends out there, some with whom to drink, some who you cry your shoulder on and the list goes on.

Asa didn't have any friends, wasn't exactly your usual butterfly of society, but more like the lonely tarantula that you are afraid to get near. Asas' day to day life was a mystery to most people, he was always absorbed into work at the university with his hobby of collecting all types of insects.

Still, a few knew that Asa indeed has a friend with which he sometimes spends his free time. Jesse was the complete opposite of Asa; confident, smug, a complete tease and pretty boastful.

The only similarity between these two men was that they both had sadistic tendencies of murdering people in the most gruesome ways. Of course, none knew that.

Both were pretty much collectors; the one collecting human beings and transforming them in either insect shaped masterpieces or transformed them into feral animals; the other one collecting videotapes of his disturbing murders.

They were what one could call frenemies, one moment they talked over a coffee drink, then next they were at each other's throats. They on basic occasions would kill together. No, they were not a partner in crimes, but more like they wanted to see how the other kills and moves into action.

Tonight it has been productive, Jesse killed two women after chasing them down a deserted road, video-taping all the action and Asa took the remains to the hotel where his collection was, adding the gutted pieces to his collection, shaping both women into beautiful morbid masterpieces, all the while Jesse observed.

After they were done, Jesse decided to go back to his place for a drink with Asa. Parking the custom Bentley into the driveway they both entered the mansion. They didn't bother to get out of their murdering gear and masks. It was like their second layer of skin, especially at night.

Jesse went to the kitchen pouring two glasses of whiskey and handing Asa one of them. Pulling his skull mask off so he could drink, Jesse sometimes cursed himself that his mask didn't have a mouth-hole like Asas' foam one.

'I must say, you have quite the collection, although your decor is boring.' Jesse signed, making Asa pull his mouth in a snarl. Again with the teasing?

"Talk to yourself. You needed two hours to chase the two?" Asa replied with venom. Sometimes he hated this man so much, he wanted to strangle him to death.

'It's called fun of the chase, grandpa.' Jesse signed, rolling his brown eye as he took a sip of the strong liquor.

"I hate you." Asa growled and then Jesses' face change from the usual teasing smirk to a deep frown.

'You do? Then why are you wasting your time with me?' Jesse signed, putting the glass down and taking steps towards Asa who frowned into confusion.

Yes, he hated Jesse....when he was teasing and mocking him; trying to assert his dominance over Asa. It was that kind of fight between alpha males, who was the strongest. It was natural.

Now Asa didn't know what to say. It was so unusual for Asa Emory not to be left speechless.

Jesse was standing in front of Asa, looking down at him with a hard gaze. Jesse was much taller than Asa, but Asa compensated his lack of height towards the bald man with his thickness.

Before he knew it, Asa was pulled by the back of his head towards Jesse,  pulling the obsidian eyed male into a bruising kiss. His black eyes widened as he felt Jesses' lips on his own.

Jesse was the first to pull away, leaving a breathless Asa to look at him with wide eyes.

'Sorry. I didn't mean it...It was a mistake.' Jesse signed, looking down.

Asa was left with a tornado in his head. He felt something in his chest, a feeling so unknown. He didn't like the kiss. He was no fucking homosexual!

Still, as he looked at Jesse, he couldn't deny that the man was attractive, tall, broad with pale skin that was decorated with tattoos. Even his scarred face was intriguing him.

Plus, Jesse was the only one who understood him. They had so many in common, especially hobbies.

Asa reminded himself that he didn't like men, he was no homosexual. Period.....but....for Jesse? Fuck, he could go all the way up.

Jesse was ready to leave Asa, when the smaller male pulled Jesse by his tie, pushing him into a feverish kiss that surprised the bald man.

Both of their eyes closed as they kissed each other, tongue dancing together in passion. Jesse snaked his arms around Asas' waist.

Asa grasped Jesse by his black dress shirt, pulling him closer, moaning into each other's mouth. They ground their hips together, flush against each other, feeling the other's arousal through their pants.

Jesse moved his hands from Asas' body and began to unzip his black slacks, freeing his hard length for the dark-eyed man to see.

Asa licked his lower lip instinctively as he saw what Jesse packed. He never felt aroused by seeing another man dick, but finding out that Jesse got so hard because of him, made something stir in Asa.

Jesse worked on Asas' pants too, brown eye looking deeply into black ones, as his length was finally free.

Pulling Asas' hips flush against his, Jesse grasped both of their cocks in one hand that was still covered by black nitrile gloves. Then he began, rubbing their lengths up and down, making Asa groan and thrust his hips into the other man's movements.

The precum from both tips smeared together over their cocks that began to glister in the faith light that was coming from the backyard, basking them into an eerie glow.

Jesse pulled out his phone from the pocket of his slacks with the freehand. It was kind of hard to sign with just one hand.

'Are you sure you wanna do this?' the robotic voice from the phone spoke.

Asa looked at Jesse with half-lidded eyes, then down at their cocks, bulbous head rubbing together with each move. Is this really what he wanted? With a man? No. It was Jesse, it was so much more. Asa looked back up at Jesse who had his mouth slightly open in silent moans. Asa only nodded and Jesses' brown eye lightened up in joy.

'Is this your first time?' the voice spoke from the phone, making Asa blush, thank God he still had the mask on. Jesse gave a silent chuckle in his chest.

'Mine too.'

So they were both virgins in this department. Oh God. Jesse pulled Asa into a sensual kiss, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth, making the man groan and thrust his hips into his.

'I want you to do me first.'

With that Jesse let go of both their length, tugging on shoes and slacks, just unbuttoning his dress shirt, leaving it open and on him. Asa was a little nervous when Jesse bend over the kitchen counter. He never did something like this. Fucking women was one thing.

Still, he couldn't help for his length not to twitch when he saw Jesse spread his long legs and see his ass in full view. No time to chicken out. The good part was that Asas' length was still slick with their precum.

Moving behind Jesse, he spread his buttcheeks, finding his backdoor, then he rubbed the slick head of his cock on the outside of Jesses' hole, making the man tense.

It was funny to see two confident and dangerous killers get so shy and nervous all of a sudden. Asa pushed the head inside, making Jesse arch his back and groan silently in the back of his throat.

Pushing inch by inch slowly, Asa was hilted inside the other man. He never knew that something like this could feel so good. Much tighter than a woman's.

Jesse, on the other hand, was beginning to thrust his ass back against Asa, because God, he loved the feeling of being so full, the head of Asas' cock kissing his prostate.

"Want me to move?" Asa asked with ragged breath and Jesse only nodded. Giving one thrust, both were left with mouth hanging open, the second thrust, then third, only to end up in a quick and deep pace.

Asas balls slapped back against Jesses' as said man was gripping the kitchen counter in a deadly grip until knuckles turned white.

Asa would feel himself closing it and was ready to pull out when Jesse shook his head. What? Inside? Really? Before Asa could argue he could feel Jesses' inside tightening trapping him in and that's when he comes undone, filling Jesse up with hot cum.

They stayed connected for a minute to catch their breath, until Asa pulled out, cock slick with his cum. Jesse turned around and pulled Asa in a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues dancing.

'Your turn. On your hands and knees.' the robotic voice hit Asas' ears and he couldn't even argue, his knees touching the cold tiles then came his hands, on all fours.

Before he could ask what Jesse had in mind he came face to face with Jesses' cock. Obsidian eyes looked up at the smirking man.

'Wet it up. I don't wanna hurt you, sweetcheeks.'

Asa could feel his face heat up, opening his mouth and taking Jesses' length in, swirling his tongue around his shaft, eyes locked on the man above.

After wetting it up, Jesse pulled away, moving behind the smaller male, taking in his form.

Jesse had to admit that Asa got a nice ass, so much more beautiful than any woman he ever saw. Getting on his knees behind Asa, he pulled his buttcheeks apart, finding what he was looking for.

Asa was prepared to feel pain and something big, but only for his eyes to widen as he felt something wet and small. Jesse was eating him out! Asa groaned as he felt the man behind him thrust his tongue into his ass, wriggling it.

Asa had observed from their previous kisses that Jesse got a long tongue, and now he was glad for it because it felt so delicious, so hot and he couldn't help but grind his ass into Jesses' mouth, who smirked in pride.

Pulling away with a strong of saliva connecting his mouth with Asas ass, he grasped his throbbing length, giving a few pumps, then pushing the head inside, slowly sliding all the girth to the hilt.

Asa was gasping as his eyes widened at how full he felt, his length twitching as he felt Jesses cock so deep in him.

'Are you fine?' the robotic voice spoke.

"Y-Yeah...Y-You're just too big." Asa gasped, groaning. Jesse grinned with prideful masculinity, grinding his hips into Asas' buttcheeks, making the man on the bottom fist his hands.

'Know I am, lover.'

With that Jesse pulled out, thrusting back in, then repeated the action, grasping Asas's hips tight so he won't even be able to get away.

The sound of sweaty skin slapping against skin sinfully echoed in the empty mansion, the two killers on the kitchen floor fucking like animals, like they just came out of an erotic movie.

Jesse felt Asas' cum dripping from his ass, running between his legs, coating his balls.

If anyone would have told a week ago to Asa that he will end up fucking and fucked by his best friend and probably only friend he would have added you to his collection. Now? He was thrusting his ass back against Jesse, who picked up his pace. Asa didn't know that having another mans cock inside his ass could feel so good, his own length twitching as he was coming closer to his climax.

"Nghh...C-Close." Asa muttered as he let out a growl as Jesse repeatedly hit his prostate. Jesse gave a firm nod, slapping Asa on one of his buttcheeks, then he came, hot spurts of cum hitting the obsidians man's insides as he reached his peak too, finishing off on the white tiles of the kitchen floor.

The room was silent leave for the harsh breathing that came from the two men.

"Ngh...J-Jesse...You can pull out." Asa groaned, Jesses sweaty front leaning on Asas' back.

'Nah...I like to stay inside you.'

Before Asa could give a smart remark, he was slipped over, facing Jesse who was still rested nice and sticky inside him. Jesse smirked down at Asa, getting up with Asas' legs wrapped around his waist, the bald man's hands rested on the juicy buttcheeks of his partner. Sometimes Asa forgot how powerful Jesse is.

Jesse walked with Asa to his master bedroom, laying both of them down on the king-sized bed, brown eyes looking into black ones.

'I loved it.' Jesse signed, making Asa nod in agreement. There was a faint silence until someone decided to break it.

"I love you."

Jesse looked back at Asa with a wide brown eye, like he might don't heard right.

It was the first time Asa said these words to someone; he just felt like it and he couldn't deny that he had something special deep within him for the other man.

"Yes, you heard that right. Don't make me say it again." Asa muttered with a frown.

Jesse pulled out his pinky finger, showing it to Asa, who looked at Jesse in confusion.

'Promise?'

"You are so childish sometimes." Asa groaned out.

'Promise?'

Asa looked at Jesse who had a serious look in his eye. Letting out a defeating sigh, he pulled on Jesses pinky finger with one of his own.

"Promise."

With that, they pulled one another into a passionate kiss, full of promises and more interesting things to come.

[rvnjun]

weather boy | haechan

genre: super power!au 

warnings:  violence, mentions of blood

authors note: first part of The Dream Team series! Finally finished it after nearly two years of sitting in my drafts,,collecting dirt and cobwebs 

probably spelling and grammar mistakes because i suck at proofreading 

all i could think of when writing this 

The Dream Team M.list

Some people were born with their powers because their parents had them, others received them under strange and unusual circumstances 

most people fit into one of those two categories, it was nearly impossible for them not too

however, Donghyuck was a special case

technically he was born with his powers, but technically he received them thanks to a injection

his mother was a scientist working for a laboratory

for years she helped developed a serum that would give someone powers 

his mother was a courageous woman and offered herself up as the first test subject, they didn't know if the serum would kill her or even work

injecting it into herself she stayed under surveillance for weeks and the only thing that seemed to be happening was that she kept feeling nauseous and puking  

they brushed it off as a weird side effect

however, 1 month later she learned about her pregnancy

she left the lab and focused all her attention on raising her soon to be son

the thoughts of the serum still lingered in her mind, she was filled with despair at the fact that it seemed to not have worked 

but she would soon be proven wrong

when her son was born, clouds filled the room and rain began to pour down, wind started blowing everything around

the serum did in fact work, just not on her

Donghyuk had it slightly hard growing up

since neither of his parents had powers they weren't able to understand him

they took him to power therapy, there he learned how to control them and what he could do with them 

he knew that his powers were powerful and potentially dangerous 

watching the news caused him to see how people could take their amazing gifts and do some of the worst things with them 

the hatred and fear they caused, it was because of them that people would treat those with powers like trash and not human 

Donghyuck wanted to do good, he had a gift and he wanted to use it to save the world, to show those out their that hated his kind that they were also good people 

when he met up with people who also had powers, they called him crazy 

“Why would I risk my life for those who wouldn't risk theirs for me?”

“What's the point, its to much work!”

“Your crazy, ya know!”

it made Donghyuck bubble with rage

why couldnt they be more compassionate and understanding

normal humans had a right to be afraid of them, look at all the things “superheros” did to them

superheros were so focused on stopping the villian that sometimes they caused more damage then what the villain would have done 

Donghyuck confronted his power therapist, he went on a 30 minute rant on how he wanted to save peoples lives but no one else wanted to 

which is when his therapist told him about a young boy named Jaemin

apparently “Jaemin” was like him, he wanted to use his powers to help save people 

and that's how he met his best friends 

it was also how he met you

many of the fights and bad people seemed to target the same neighborhood

which was where you lived

it wasn't a bad neighborhood but it also wasn't the richest, it was perfectly in the middle 

there was many times when you would be sitting outside and all of a sudden some person was going off on a speech about taking over the world

you always casually watched from your porch

after awhile of watching them fight you chose to make them some snacks

Donghyuck was completely taken back when you casually approached them with sandwiches and water

it became your thing, you make them some food and bring it to them

while doing so you fell for the weather powered boy 

you were extremely shocked when you learned Donghyucks real identity 

he was the cute kid who never shut up in your chem class

which in hindsight, you should have known

Donghyuck was known for his weather powers

you laughed to yourself, people should have been smarter to realize that the kid in school with weather powers was actually the superhero,,,with weather powers 

he risked revealing his identity to you so you could date

The Dream Team, as they called themselves didn't mind, they all loved you

you had already proven that you were a nice person, that you actually cared about them 

dating Donghyuck was a little hard at first, only because sometimes he couldn't control his powers around you

like the time when some dude was hitting on you, Donghyuck made it downpour in the coffee shop,,,only on the guy 

then there was the time you two were swimming and messing around, he was shooting you heart eyes, the clouds cleared up even more and you swore you heard sweet music suddenly play in the background 

and your personal favorite was when you two were having a pretty intense make-out session and the temperature in the room raised a whole 10 degrees

(fahrenheit otherwise that would be concerning)

other than his rapid emotions he was an amazing normal boyfriend

he loved to show you off, if you ever felt insecure about something 

he would brag about you to everyone around him like you were a first place trophy 

you still brought his friends food after they fought, except this time Donghyuck enjoyed your kisses more than the food 

Everyone at your school was kinda shocked to learn that you were dating 

as far as they knew you never talked before

and then suddenly you were holding hands in the hallway while walking each other to classes 

As much as you loved Donghyuck for fighting,and helping people you couldn't help but feel scared for him sometimes 

the number of times he came over to your house with cuts and bruises on your face made your heart sink

you always told him that he should have gone to Jaemin for help but he said that you made him feel better 

like any other day you were sitting at your desk while working on some dreaded homework

the headphones blasting music in your ears distracted you from properly doing your work, plus its not like you were really trying

a light tap of your window caused you to look up with a soft smile

you were expecting to see Donghyuks smiling face

“Babe?” You asked when no one was in sight

feeling confused you stood up and stupidly opened the window

screaming Donghyucks name when someone grabbed you and pulled you out of it

you knew that Donghyuck wasnt near but you pleaded for him in your mind

begging for him to somehow hear you and save you

everything went black and the last thing you saw was the intruders smiling face

Donghyuck laughed along with his friends at Renjuns joke

suddenly Jisung stopped laughing and looked straight at Donghyuck

“Hyung, Y/n is in danger,” he said very seriously

“What? Don't joke like that,” Donghyuck snapped a bit

not really enjoying being joked with on something so serious

“Im not joking! I just know Y?n is in danger,” he protested growing more and more scared every second

everyone looked at him before Chenle spoke up

“Jisung would joke about something like that, Y/n must seriously be in danger.”

rushing out of his seat Donghyuck made a mad dash for your house

the clouds around began to darken, rain falling slowly

he pulled at his phone and repeatedly tried to call you but got no answer

adding to the sudden weather problems

wind harshly blew, a drastic change from the previous sunny and calm day

when Donghyuck arrived at your house and saw your open window he just knew Jisung was right

as much as he didnt want to believe him

looking around he couldn't see any sign as to where you could have been

tears began to fall down his face

calling Jisung he begged and pleaded for him to figure out where you were

Jisung thought and thought about everything before it came to him 

“I think,,I think Y/n is at the old abandoned factory on 8th str-” Donghyuck hung up before he could finish his sentence

Donghyuck turned and darted in the direction of the factory

people around him screamed as the rain poured harder and thunder boomed, lightning decorated the sky rapidly, cool and warm wind began to mix causing funnel clouds to appear

dangerously threatening the people out the city

back at the table Donghyuck friends stared at the sky in awe, they had seen Donghyucks powers before but never like this

silently praying for your safety they sat and watched the sky, waiting for it to change to show that you were okay 

he quickly arrived at the factory, the door burst open from wind before he could even touch it

he listened for a sound, running towards it

the door burst open as Donghyuck arrived, staring at your tied up and beaten figure

“Y/n,” he yelled, body shaking with anger

the guy in front of you immediately dropped what he was holding in fear

you cried in happiness at seeing your boyfriend, knowing that he was able to find you thanks to Jisung

“How dare you fucking hurt Y/n,” he said angrily

bursts of wind launched the man into the wall and held him there

the room rapidly rised in temperature, clouds formed in the room, replicating the weather outside

the man screamed out

Donghyuck stepped towards him as tornado began to form

he untied you, holding your body as you fell into his arms, knees weak from pain

gently he kissed your forehead “ill take you to Jaemin as soon as im done here baby,” he tone was the exact opposite of the one he used to the man just seconds before

you stared at the room in awe at his powers, not feeling the slightest afraid because you trusted him

a huge bolt of lightening stuck down on the man causing him to knockout

Donghyuck calmed down at seeing the injured man

the boys back at the table smiled at the sky when all the clouds disappeared the sun came out, wind changing to a gentle breeze

“Im so glad you are okay, I was so fucking worried,” he began to cry as he held you

“I don't know what I would have done if I lost you, Y/n you are my everything and I can't live without you,” he body shook with tears

holding him as tight as you could you rested your head on his chest 

“I screamed for you the whole time, all i wanted was to be right here,,in your arms,” you said happily

your eyes started to close, exhausted taking over your body

you placed a weak kiss on Donghyucks lips

“let me take you to Jaemin,”

Donghyuck smiled contentedly and carried you out of the room, ignoring the man, and was happily met with his friends

“Figured you'd need me,” Jaemin looked at you and smiled, healing all your wounds and making you feel like none of it had happened

“Well lets get out of here,” Jaemin said

Donghyuck followed behind his friends, refusing to put you back down

“,,,you aren't gonna heal the guy, Hyung? what if Donghyuk killed him?” Jisung asked in surprise

Jaemin waved his hand and shook his head 

Donghyuck scoffed “Sadly, he wasn't hurt that badly.” 

[therainbowtreasury]

Late Night Static

    It has been three years since Haruka had began talking to Yuzuki. They met online and became the best of friends in that time. Life, work, stress and, mainly, the distance kept them apart. These days the most tedious, back breaking of labour was left to bots and the concept of a maid was rarely seen save for in pop culture and, well, kink. The cafe itself was tucked into an alleyway and could very easily be missed. Haruka had arrived first to ensure they could get a table and she found one by the window. The environment was...wholesome. Cuties of all genders were wearing supremely feminine black dresses complete with frills, caps, stockings and heels. With her elbow rested on the table she held her chin in her hand and watched as a waitress walked past her. “Those heels must be a bitch to wear all day,” she thought to herself. A restaurant that had employed a fully human serving staff was rare in this modern world. Haruka made a mental note to leave a very nice tip for the cutsey maids and tried not to think about how likely it was that some bot was behind the scenes, making all the food, drinks and everything else. Yuck. She ordered a cream soda while she waited. Meeting someone new always made her nervous but… this wasn’t really someone new, was it? Restlessly she dug her phone out of her pocket and re-read the conversation on the screen;

Yuzuki: I can’t wait to see you today! <3 My train should get me there for 3 pm. 

Haruka: ^^ I can’t wait either! I will be at the cafe waiting for you.

Yuzuki: Sounds good~

Haruka: Don’t be afraid to call if you get lost =P 

It wasn’t unusual to see a bot wandering around by themselves. They could take care of all the errands and most could defend themselves or escape if the need arose. However there were places it was unusual to see a bot without an owner. All save the fanciest of bots didn’t--couldn’t eat. This was why when a bot with long purple braids entered the cafe and moved to take a seat with a woman by the window, several glances were passed in her direction. She was an expensive model and absolutely refined. Whoever owned her had gone to extreme’s to make sure she was realistic. If it wasn’t for the red holographic halo floating over head, denoting an a.i, one could very easily mistake her for a human. “Haruka? It’s nice to finally meet you…” said Yuzuki. 

Haruka had been staring out the window and so she hadn’t noticed Yuzuki’s arrival or the attention it brought. She turned to look at Yuzuki, “Hey, Yuzu--” and  then her face fell upon seeing that halo. Then she suddenly became aware people were staring at them and some whispered although she couldn’t hear what. Yuzuki sat down after smoothing her black dress out. “You’re… a bot?” Haruka managed finally, astounded. Yuzuki simply smiled and nodded. Her hands had balled into fists under the table while she tried to process this. They’d traded pictures and did video calls, sure, but Yuzuki had managed to hide the halo. Realising the person she had spent so much time talking to was nothing but fancy algorithms and gears was a sudden blow. 

“But why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You know why, Haru-chan,” Yuzuki said very simply. 

Haruka could feel her nails digging into her palm. In many of their conversations she had made it clear she hated A.I. Now all those things she had said were flashing back to mind. Haruka felt overwhelmed and stared down at the table, unable to look up. “You...should go. This was a mistake,” Haruka said in a very even tone--the kind that is but the calm eye of a tornado. She couldn’t even bring herself to look up. Nothing else needed to be said.

“As you wish, Haru-chan,” said Yuzuki. The smile she had arrived with had already left without her. She had a kind of placid, far away look bots get when they are processing on her features although something… sad lingered in her slate blue eyes. She stood up and reached into her hand-bag to retrieve an all pink envelope and set it down. “I got this for you. It really was nice having met you. Good-bye.” On booted heels she turned and walked back out the door. 

This left Haruka alone at the table with the terrible feeling that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Finally she took a deep breath and inspected the slightly lumpy envelope. On the front was written “For Haru-chan.” Opening the envelope she tipped the contents of it into her hand. It was a necklace with a pendant… of Kirby--an absolute favourite of hers. Seeing this made her heart feel heavy. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and pointer fingers as she looked down at the necklace. “Why do I feel like a total ass right now, “ she groaned aloud, before standing up and quickly making for the door.

Yuzuki covered a decent distance before she heard the sound of someone running, slowing and stopping behind her. “Yuzuki, wait--” said Haruka, stopping to catch her breath. Yuzuki didn’t turn around but did stop. “I… I’m sorry,” Haruka said, still huffing a little. The street wasn’t a very crowded one but people and bots alike still drifted by occasionally, lost in their own business. Haruka sank to her knees and forearms, her forehead just above the side-walk. “I don’t deserve a friend as good as you. The time we have spent talking is something I have treasured.” 

[seirioscanis]

{ low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline }

.

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” -- Albert Camus

“We are unusual, tragic, and alive.” -- Dave Eggers

“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.” -- Richey Edwards

“’Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?’ Will demanded with mock horror. ‘Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be.’ He banged on the side of the carriage. ‘Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.’” -- Will Herondale, Clockwork Angel

“Many atrocities have been done in the name of the greater good.” -- Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Sirius Orion Black NICKNAMES: Padfoot, Pads AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: 3 November 1959 GENDER: Demiboy, not that he has the word for that PRONOUNS: he/they

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black ( 55 ) FATHER: Orion Black ( 51, deceased ) SIBLINGS: Regulus Arcturus Black ( 18, deceased )

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Samuel Larsen BUILD: Slim and muscular HAIR: Shoulder length and thick, normally kept in a bun HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Pale DOMINANT HAND: Right handed, teaching himself slowly to write with his left as well for the hell of it (note: the handwriting is still awful). ANOMALIES: a scar on his upper right lip, ironically a small cluster of star-shaped birthmarks on his left hip (which he hates), a few old cigarette burns on his knees SCENT: leather, old spice, barber shop hair gel, cigarette smoke, motor oil ACCENT: British ALLERGIES: slightly lactose intolerant DISORDERS: Major depression, generalized anxiety, PTSD due to childhood trauma FASHION: Punk rock baby, though probably a bit out of date compared to what muggles are wearing now. He took what he could get during school, and now there’s not enough time in the day to work, be in the Order, and go shopping. NERVOUS TICS: His body becomes more tense, and his eyes dart around the room to search for an exit (or several if possible). He also subconsciously takes a step back from whatever is making him nervous, occasionally messes with his hair to try and act casual (though he does that when he’s bored as well, so it has to be seen with one of the others to be considered a sign of his nerves). If he’s particularly high strung, he’ll lose his nerve completely and lash out, no matter if it’s good or bad for the situation at hand. QUIRKS: Like mentioned above, he messes with his hair a lot when he’s bored, usually pulling it out of its hair tie if up and vice versa if down. He paces when plotting, and purses his lips when he’s thinking considerably. When he’s particularly happy he’ll do a little jump, and he appears to be vibrating a little even afterward. When uncomfortable he’ll try to push that feeling off with either an argument or joke, again no matter whether one of those choices is the wisest at the time.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Points Apartments BORN: St. Mungo’s Hospital RAISED: Grimmauld Place, London PETS: n/a

CAREER: Auror-in-Training EXPERIENCE: He was part of the Hogwarts dueling club for two years before being kicked out for unfair sportsmanship. He also got a considerate amount of training in magic from an early age thanks to his family, and his mother in particular taught him a bit of dark magic--or tried to. Not that he would use the dark magic, but if push came to shove... he has a few tricks up his sleeve (or, at the very least, the theory behind some of the darker magics). EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Sirius, without a shadow of a doubt, believes that muggleborns and halfbloods deserve to be equal to purebloods. It took him years to believe he was allowed to have that thought process, but he grabbed onto it once he did. Despite the years of unlearning what his family tried to instill in him, it wasn’t all successful. He does still have a superiority complex, and most definitely thinks himself above squibs, muggles, house elves, and so on. It takes more effort for him to respect their opinions as equal to his own, and though he knows that’s wrong, it’s taking a lot longer than he’d like to unlearn that--if he ever can. MISDEMEANORS: Illegal animagus, chase down with James on Elvendork, driving underage on an unregistered motorcycle, his entire list of detentions at Hogwarts FELONIES: Nothing officially on record, so really he’s as innocent as it gets DRUGS: n/a SMOKES: Way too much to be healthy for his lungs ALCOHOL: Not nearly as bad as his smoking habit DIET: Generally unhealthy because he can’t be bothered to cook

LANGUAGES: English, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, some German

PHOBIAS: Extremely loud noises, snakes, thunderstorms HOBBIES: Causing general mischief, reading what he can get his hands on, doodling (albeit a bit crudely) TRAITS: { + }: loyal, intelligent, observant, quick-witted, sociable { - }: angry, impulsive, insensitive, defiant, pessimistic 

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Potter Estate, Prewett Household, Hogwarts SPORTS TEAM: Tutshill Tornadoes GAME: Wizard’s Chess MUSIC: Punk Rock, Celestina Warbeck (not that he’d tell a soul) MOVIES: Has hardly seen any, but is fond of action movies FOOD: Thai BEVERAGE: Whiskey or iced tea COLOR: Dark green

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 8 3/4 inches, slightly bendy, yew, rougarou hair core AMORTENTIA: honeysuckles, vanilla, cigarette smoke PATRONUS: Dog BOGGART: His parents standing over him shouting; recently with Regulus by their side asking why he had to die

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good MBTI: ESTP-T MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur

“ ESTPs are energetic thrillseekers who are at their best when putting out fires, whether literal or metaphorical. They bring a sense of dynamic energy to their interactions with others and the world around them. They assess situations quickly and move adeptly to respond to immediate problems with practical solutions. Active and playful, ESTPs are often the life of the party and have a good sense of humor. They use their keen powers of observation to assess their audience and adapt quickly to keep interactions exciting. Although they typically appear very social, they are rarely sensitive; the ESTP prefers to keep things fast-paced and silly rather than emotional or serious. “

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger

” People of this personality type are essentially unwilling to be controlled, either by others or by their circumstances; they fully intend to be masters of their fate. Eights are strong willed, decisive, practical, tough minded and energetic. They also tend to be domineering; their unwillingness to be controlled by others frequently manifests in the need to control others instead. When healthy, this tendency is kept under check, but the tendency is always there, nevertheless, and can assume a central role in the Eight's interpersonal relationships. ”

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

“  The choleric temperament is fundamentally ambitious and leader-like. They have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be in charge of everything. However, cholerics also tend to be either highly disorganized or highly organized. They do not have in-between setups, only one extreme to another. As well as being leader-like and assertive, cholerics also fall into deep and sudden depression. Essentially, they are very much prone to mood swings. “

WESTERN ZODIAC: Scorpio

“ Passionate, independent, and unafraid to blaze their own trail no matter what others think, Scorpios make a statement wherever they go. They love debates, aren't afraid of controversy, and won't back down from a debate. They also hate people who aren't genuine, and are all about being authentic—even if authentic isn't pretty. Because of all of these traits, a Scorpio can seem intimidating and somewhat closed off to those who don't know them well. But what people don't realize is that even though Scorpio may seem brusque, as a water sign, they also are very in tune with their emotions, and sometimes may find themselves caught up in their feelings. This leads to Scorpio's central conflict: Their feelings are what drives them and strengthens them, but their mutability can scare them and make them feel vulnerable and out of control. Because of this conflict, Scorpios, like their namesake, the scorpion, put up an outer shell and may seem prickly. But once people get beyond the shell, they find a loyal, loving person whose passion knows no bounds. Scorpio dives into all life has to offer with 110% enthusiasm. A Scorpio will be your most loyal friend, most dedicated employee—and your worst enemy, if they want to be. “

CHINESE ZODIAC: Year of the Pig 

“  Pig is mild and a lucky animal representing carefree fun, good fortune and wealth. Personality traits of the people born under the sign of the Pig are happy, easygoing, honest, trusting, educated, sincere and brave. The possible dark sides the Pig people are stubbornness, naive, over-reliant, self-indulgent, easy to anger and materialistic. They are sometimes regarded as being lazy. “

PRIMAL SIGN: Squid

“  Squids are powerful personalities that can only be ‘checked and balanced’ by themselves. They are highly capable, intelligent individuals who seem to know everything. Generally good natured, they also have a hidden inner dark side which resides deep within themselves. No one is allowed into this secret place, often not even themselves. Squids will even try to bury painful truths within themselves in order to avoid dealing with difficult emotions and situations. “

TAROT CARD: Justice, High Priestess

“ Justice and The High Priestess have in common that everything is accounted for. Justice examines everything for flaws in order to find its flawless essence. The High Priestess knows the secret of everything as it is in order to encompass everything. Justice demands of everything its true nature and essence, with nothing concealed, withheld or distorted. It tirelessly weighs and measures, satisfied with nothing less than the clear, the absolute, and the irreduceable in everything. Justice is adamant and uncompromising with its sword and scales, loud and clear in its redness, fearless and certain on its throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of the secrets of perfection. The High Priestess finds what is the same in everything, the secret unifying core hidden in the endless variation of detail. She patiently discovers in all differences what is true, original and undisturbed in everything. The High Priestess is accepting and inclusive with her scroll and cross, calm and quiet in her blueness, fearless and certain on her throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of final knowledge. Unintegrated and imperfectly realized, Justice can be given to rage and haste; it can become arrogant and hypercritical, aggrieved and vengeful, or uncertain and vacillating. The High Priestess can be a conceited know-it-all, moody and taciturn, secret and unapproachable; she can be despairing and lost, or given to excess and careless of consequences. Together, they dream of the perfect, the ultimate, and pursue it in more than one kind of undertaking. They continuously seek the truth, and in its service they are drawn to esoteric studies and unusual paths. “

TV TROPES: White Sheep, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, In the Blood, Hot-blooded, Good is Not Nice, Cultural Rebel, Badass Biker SONGS: Gasoline, Halsey; The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack; This is the End (For You My Friend), Anti-Flag; Hate Conquers All, Anti-Flag; Downtempo, Scouting for Girls;

IDEOLOGIES: - Actively cuts out everyone who was part of his childhood unless they’ve somehow proven they can be trusted again; he avoids his family at all costs. - The day he found out he was lactose intolerant, however mild, was a mournful day. He sulked about Hogwarts for about a week. - Legitimately tried to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake and see the giant squid. Never succeeded. - If you bring peanut butter anywhere near him he will chuck it across the room. He hates it. - Genuinely enjoys being a dog more than a human sometimes. Yes, he’s aware of the irony.  - The only people allowed to make puns off of his name are James, Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene. He’ll get annoyed at anyone else who tries (also wise to avoid using the word serious around him for the above reason). - Keeps telling himself he’ll quit smoking someday. The likelihood of that actually happening is about slim to none, RIP to Sirius’ lungs.

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

The summertime of our lives, 5/6

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 5/6.

Pairings: Ninetoo x Rose.

A/N: Written for @doctorroseprompts summer bingo. Five summer-themed words: Party, Lights, Ice-Cream, Fair, Music (BINGO!). Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” - William Shakespeare.

CHAPTER 5:

The Doctor woke up with a pounding headache and a sore body. He was lying flat on his stomach. His position was similar to those silhouettes you could see on crime scenes. He was very alive and very dehydrated, very hot and very unwell. If he was asked, he would say that all of his limbs had been cut off his torso, that they were scattered all around him and refusing to his brain’s orders. Brain? What brain? His head only contained a puddle of brain cells in the middle of a raging battlefield. His fingers scratched the hard surface he was currently embracing. Wood. Definitely wood. His face was crushed against a surface made of varnished wood. A table? No. It looked more like a ground. A ground that was moving. Like a boat rolling on the sea. A sudden rise of bile burnt his oesophagus and he struggled to compel all his limbs to move and pull his body up. He never realised how much you can tangle a body before he messed up with his limbs that weren’t quite obeying to him. It ended up with him crashing back down to the ground. His nausea was forgotten, replaced by the pain caused by the fall. He moaned, more of annoyance than of pain. What the hell was going on? He rolled on his back. The sun was stroking his skin. He was outside. He tried to focus on his surroundings despite the whole nightclub partying in his head. Last time he had felt this awful, he was drunk. The thought made him twitch. Drunk. That was it. He had drunk too much during the pool party and he was suffering from a terrible hangover. Drunk until the blackout What a stupid idea! Why hadn’t Rose stopped him? Had she been as drunk as him? No. She wouldn’t. Would she? She had come back to the TARDIS in a more than wasted condition numerous times when she was accompanying Jack to those parties on foreign planets. He should have gone with them instead of pretending he had better things to do. He was only worrying about her in the end. Where was she now? Was she worrying about him? They were both at that party. He remembered them both walking in the swimming pool hand in hand. They had gone to the bar, ordered soft drinks… He frowned. Soft drinks. No alcohol. They hadn’t wanted to get wasted. They had just wanted to have some fun before going back home to cuddle. What could have gone wrong? Forcing his brain to retrieve missing memories was increasing his headache. Even if he wanted to known where his Rose was, he had to focus on something simpler. A goal he could achieve in this condition. First, he had to find the strength to move and drink some water. Or he could just lay here and list all the types of pain he was in. It would be quite long. There were a lot of them. There were burns and even those burns could be categorised. Stomach burns because of the excess of alcohol, irritation of the throat because of the dehydration, his neck, face and legs were hurting. If he had been there for hours, he probably sunburnt. And then, there were his wrists. This kind of burns was unusual to him. It was nothing he had ever experienced in 900 years of life. It was burning and itching at the same time. The thrill of mystery snapped him out of the numbness induced by the alcohol he had drunk last night. He was certain to have drunk alcohol though he couldn’t remember it. He obliged his whole body to move and sat up. He stretched his neck with a grumble of pain. Glanced at his wrist. Knitted his brow. There was a bandage on both his wrists and a ribbon was fastened around his left arm. What had happened last night? He caught a corner of the plaster and pulled on it. He quickly got rid of the first bandage. His frowned expression turned into one of utter surprise. There, on his unusually red skin, a black ribbon was tattooed around his wrist. It was continuing on his other wrist. It was a fine piece of art but it clearly wasn’t his style. He was no man to get tattooed. He hadn’t done this willingly. And what could it mean? Staring at those lovely lines swirling on his wrists brought a daydreaming thought he had had a long time ago, when he was travelling with Rose. Of course, he wasn’t wearing this face when he had had the thought but the memory was still there. It was during a day on Chlopović, a town of the planet Pochlović that was known for its landscapes and gardens and parks. Many of them had love for theme and were the witnesses of numerous marriages. Or, as they called it, the fastening hands ceremony. And yes, one day, he had daydreamt of going through this ceremony with Rose. Back then, he would never have admitted it. Now… It wasn’t like he would refuse if there was a chance. He was against domestics but he wanted his forever with the woman he loved. Well, if he could find her. And who was he engaged to? Where the hell was he? What had freaking happened last night? “Spitz? Spitz, do you hear me?” The Doctor opened in eyes in response to the name he had been given to be acceptable on the civic field – another human norm he hated: you had to have a ‘normal’ name to be socially accepted, and just ‘The Doctor’ wasn’t an acceptable name – and was struck by the confusion. When had he lost it again? He blinked. How long had he been there? Someone called out for an ambulance. Or for a doctor. He was a doctor. He was the Doctor. But the words didn’t get past his lips. They said he was confused, badly dehydrated and his sunburnt were serious. Someone palpated his arm. There was a pinch and a sting. The sun was still high in the sky. He closed his eyes again. They carried him, placed him on a soft comfortable surface. It would have been perfect without the loud noise of a rotor, of a motor roaring somewhere above him. A helicopter. It was the first time he was traveling in helicopter. He thought. He wasn’t sure. Next time he woke up from this alcohol induced situation, he felt much better. His head wasn’t pounding anymore and his skin was fresh, as if a layer of cold ointment had been rubbed in. He recognised the place he was in immediately. A hospital. Damn. He couldn’t be in a hospital. They would… He sat up, took the needle of the drip off his hand, took the plier on his finger off. The machine beeped loudly. “Going somewhere?” He turned his head so violently that he winced at the pop he heard. He could easily have blocked a nerve or caused himself a neck stiff. That would be the last of his worries. He had to find Rose. She wasn’t with him in that room but the Detective Inspector Alec Hardy – or the man who saved his life hours ago – was. That was the Scottish accent that gave him away. “How did you find me?” He marked a pause. “Why were you looking for me?” “You were on the list of the persons present at the pool party two days ago.” Two days ago? Whatever he had drunk that night, it was strong enough to have made him forget a whole day in totality. A familiar feeling of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Danger. Mystery. Everything he loved. Hardy turned off the beeping monitor and dismissed the nurse who had just come in. “I was there with Rose.” “I know.” “Have you found her?” “Yes.” “How is she?” “Worried about you. I called to reassure her.” “What happened at that party?” “That’s the question I was gonna ask you.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. If Alec Hardy was seeking for answers from him, he would be disappointed. His brain had completely deleted this party from his memory. He didn’t even know where he was when he was found and brought here. “The party started at 8pm. Around 10pm, the station got calls informing us that it was going wrong. Drugs have been added to the recipe and have caused a whole mess. Fights, arguments, robberies and it goes on and on.” “I know nothing of this. I don’t even remember any of the party.” “The contrary would have surprising. You ingested quite a dose. So did Rose.” “But she’s fine.” “You both had the good sense of leaving before it became unmanageable. You’ve wandered in town, met with other people who fled from the party. We have you on CCTV recordings until 5am. After that, nothing anymore. You were missing. Like dozens of people. Their talk came to an end with the brutal opening of the door and the storming in of a blonde tornado who wrapped the Doctor into a tight and painful embrace. Rose. He hugged her back, let her examine him and hug him again while fully aware that Hardy had a full view on his naked arse. “We’re gonna go back to our house. We’ll stay there. Together. I’ll take care of you.” She glanced at the detective behind them. “We can go?” “He’s got the green light from me.” He wasn’t a suspect, just a witness, and the doctors said he could go home. He was in the clear. They hadn’t found anything abnormal about him. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or not to be human. It was quite insulting. And comforting somehow. Nothing to fear. Nothing to hide.

x

“Is it me or the lights are brighter and more colourful?” Rose giggled, “You’re drunk.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’d know if I was.” Rose sniggered. He played offended. He thought she was lying but she knew better than him on this point. The weirder was that they hadn’t drunk alcohol. At all. It was just the beginning of the party. They wanted to enjoy it, not get wasted. So why was she too feeling tipsy? She left the Doctor alone a couple minutes to use the loo. There was a time when being alone for a while wouldn’t have bothered him. He used to be chatty, turned toward people and today, the crowd was terrifying him. Even with a numb mind that made him feel stupid. How were normal people handling such a slow brain? He grabbed another drink at the bar, and another when this one was empty. What was taking so much time to Rose? He was the silent witness of people getting drunker and drunker, of the atmosphere changing. Himself was having troubles. He couldn’t keep his balance; the sounds were coming to his ears as if he was underwater – maybe he was? – his sight was blurry. He was convinced not to have drunk alcohol and yet, he truly was drunk. He couldn’t deny it anymore as he was awkwardly reeling on the edge of the pool. “What are you doing?” It was a voice he knew very well. Even with ears that didn’t work well, he would recognise his Rose. He turned around and gave her a gleeful grin. His fifth fruit juice had eliminated all tension and fear. He was relaxed. Happy. Maybe too much. Rose didn’t think it was normal. He could see it on her face despite the blur. “Enjoying the party! What about you?” “We should go home.” “No, we should step in the deep end.” On that, he let himself fall in the pool and drag her with him. He was an excellent swimmer and he was back to the water quickly. Rose was yelling at him for being the stupidest idiot ever. Her fist connected with his shoulder and he was laughing heartily. If he had been sober, he would have noticed the danger, but his faculties were off. He would regret it later.

x

The Doctor woke up abruptly and sat up straight. His heart was racing and he was panting. The dream in itself hadn’t been scary. It was just a memory he had forgotten. His doctor at the hospital said it could happen. The memories could come back through dreams and flashbacks, or they could remain in the dark. “You okay?” He turned his head. Rose was laid on her side and watching him. No sign of sleep on her face. Had she been watching over him all this time? All the while he was gone, she had been looking for him and worrying. She had been less exposed to the drugs contrarily to him but she had had enough to let him go with a mysterious person at 5am. And none of them could remember who it was. He lay back down, stared at the ceiling. He was trying to bring his heart rate and breathing to normal. Rose put her hand on his cheek and stroked it gently to give him comfort. “’s nothing. Just a memory from the party. Nothing helpful unfortunately.” He sighed, closed his eyes. If only he could have a glimpse at the face of the person he had followed… The inquiry wasn’t going anywhere. This guy wasn’t findable. His acts had caused a huge mess, hurt lots of people. There was no obvious mobile. Maybe just someone who never left high school, someone who wanted the too serious to have fun. But there were consequences and this person had to pay for this. “You’re peeling.” She was amused by the situation. She took a bit of peeling skin between her fingers and pulled on it. He protested and slapped her hand away. His body was rejecting the damaged skin and replacing it by a fresh new one. If they pulled on the skin, it could cause more damages than there already were. They had to leave it like this. “We’ve stayed locked in here for days.” “I don’t want to go outside.” “Doctor…” “I’m not scared. I just… I don’t want to.” It wasn’t entirely the truth and they both knew it but the Doctor would never say out loud that he was terrified. Someone had drugged him without him knowing and he had followed that someone. He would have died if Alec Hardy hadn’t found him. It wasn’t something that was pleasing him but it was the truth and he hadn’t even thanked him properly. It really was annoying him but he wasn’t an ungrateful man. He had to do something for him. “Your friend saved my life.” “I’m glad he did.” “I have to thank him.” “But you’re too proud to just say thanks to him.” “Oi! Watch it, blondie!” The nickname earned him a slap on his shoulder immediately followed by an apology. Even if his skin was peeling in some places, there were still others that were sensitive, especially when the touch was violent. Well, violent. It was a way to say it. Rose would never hurt him willingly unless he did something really stupid. Like standing too close to the edge of a mountain. Or betraying her in some ways. Which would never happen. He would never forgive himself if he did. “So you wanna thank him the red bicycle way.” He sighed, “I shouldn’t have told you that.” She grinned one of those grins he liked so much on her face and he became oblivious of her mockery. Instead, he stole a kiss from her and got up from bed. He needed a good shower to clear his mind and feel better. He had had sponge baths in the past few days. It was the only thing he could bear on his burnt skin, and bearing this was a huge euphemism. Rose had had the benefit of doing this as if she was a nurse and he was a patient. She had pretty much enjoyed it but now he could take care of himself. He looked terrific in the mirror, and so he avoided it carefully. Rose was sat on the toilet lid when he came out of the shower. He had a towel around his waist and was using another to dry his hair. He stopped in his tracks. “You know I don’t like it.” “What don’t you like?” “We talked about that already.” “I remember.” He used his second towel to hide his torso but it was too late and vain. Her eyes had already taken every single bruise and cut into consideration. If she wanted answers, he had none, and the hospital already listed all the wounds they had found on him. They also tried to convince him to see a therapist. That was the last of his troubles at the moment. All these wounds were self-inflicted and they had thought he had done this to himself. It might have come up to his mind a few times but never to that point. And he wasn’t smoking… Was he? He ignored her, turned his back on her but she wouldn’t just stay there and say nothing. She was behind him in two swift steps. Her warm and gentle hands unwrapped his torso, put the towel aside. She was facing his back. Her fingers delicately slid down his arm. A shiver ran down his back. Her hand found his, she slipped her fingers between his, squeezed his hand. He heaved a shaky sigh. He wouldn’t win this round, even if he was pleading. And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t go so low. He had his proudness. She didn’t compel him to turn around, didn’t even come around to face him. Instead, she grabbed the white T-shirt on the top of the pile of clean clothes he had prepared for today. An unexpected side of him. He was planning things. The pile of clothes was only one of those things. A small one. He must have inherited this trait from Donna. She unfolded the shirt, delicately passed his head in the hole made for the head. As an automatism, he passed his arms in the sleeves. “We could invite him over for dinner.” “In the house he’s renting to us?” “Yeah, I see your point.” “Dinners are private. For me. I only want to share them with you. You’re my family.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. She kept her embrace loose for him not to be uncomfortable. She placed her head on his back. Just the comforting embrace he needed. And his words moved her. He was a man without family and she had lost her bond with hers. They only had each other. A little family of two. Better than nothing at all. Better with two. “Maybe for lunch then?” “It doesn’t solve the whole ‘he’s renting the house to us’ thing.” “We could go in town.” “Is there any restaurant around?” “Of course. Small town but civilised.” “But…” “It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. We can wait until you’re better.” He got free from her embrace, pulled on his boxers and jeans. He didn’t face her immediately. First, he straightened his shirt, rubbed his face. He had to think about shaving. Or should he keep the stubble? He didn’t think Rose would like the full beard, but she might like the T-shirt. He had bought it for himself when he was out for shopping. Before the pool party happened. “Do you want me to shave you?” He raised an eyebrow. That was the first time she was making an offer like this to him, but they had crossed a line on that mountain, had unlocked the next stage in their relationship. Her hand was certain. She wouldn’t tremble. But did she really want to do that for him? “What?” “I can shave you. I was doing it sometimes for Mickey.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope.” “Rickey never had facial hair.” Rose chuckled but he was being mean to Mickey again. Sometimes, she was missing her best friend and regretting the time they had had together. She should have treated him much better. He deserved better and hopefully he would find the happiness she hadn’t been able to give him. “Come on, sit down on the toilet lid.” He shrugged and obeyed while she was filling the sink with warm water and gathered the razor, the shaving foam and a towel. She faced him and almost dropped the shaving stuff. First, there was astonishment. Then, she burst out laughing. It was so unexpected to see him wearing a white shirt with a large smile and a wink. He glanced at the pattern. “Don’t like my shirt?” “Yes. Yes, I do. That’s just surprising.” “I should have taken the banana shorts to go with it. You would have loved it.” “Sure I would. We can still go and get it if you’re up from this.” “And then, we’ll go to the fair?” “What made you change your mind about going out?” “If you can shave me without trembling, I can go outside without fear.” She grinned her signature tongue-touching smile and he grinned back at her. The fair had settled down behind their rented house last weekend and the music of the attractions were resounding every day and every night. It was driving him insane. But it could be fun to go and try to impress Rose. For now, he closed his eyes and appreciated her expert hands shaving the light stubble on his face. She delicately cleaned his face when she was done. “You’d like it if I had a beard?” “I wouldn’t mind if you liked it.” “And a moustache?” “No way.” “Sure about that?” “Certain. I’m okay with the stubble and a full beard but not with the moustache. It’s awful.” He smiled again and she sat on his lap for a short hug. She put some aftershave on his face and neck. There, he was all ready and looking awesome with that peeling skin, that smile and that outfit. She would get him that banana shorts if he really wanted them. It would be a private joke between them. But right now, she was betting on him really wanting a banana flavoured ice-cream. It was time to make their first appearance outside…

A suivre

The summertime of our lives © | 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

← Last || Next →

English version:

AO3 ||TS.

[vanaera]

Your Side of the Bed

Synopsis | Hoseok will bask in the crumpled sheets of your bed until you learn to erase your past’s name on the duvet and replace it with his. It’s been long since the sheets were changed. He’s got a better one, a much warmer one and he hopes you could see the permanence laced in its every thread.

Genre | slight angst, fluff

Wordcount | 1,749

Play Your Side of the Bed by Loote

               Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

               The eight o’ clock daylight seeps through your blinds, stirring Hoseok from his sleep with an answer on the tip of his tongue. The question has long loomed over his head for some time now, the answer clear to him everytime he has to assure himself of his stand in your life. But today was too early and what he can only do is look at you - hair a mess, bare face, tired body engulfed in the sheets by his side. Hoseok smiles and tucks the few stray strands of your hair behind your ear. The steady rise and fall of your chest makes him reminisce the steady pounding of last night’s rain.

               The clouds weren’t gray that evening; a darkish cerulean even, yet the rain was heavy, dropping on the pavement like thunderous claps, hitting the hood of his car in a clangorous downpour. But to him, it was ironically mellifluous – to find beauty and calm in tragedy and noise. It shouldn’t even be therapeutic to him. He liked it in a kind of a pathological extent. And the same goes for you. He turns his head to look at you picking at the bits of the worn rubber on the handle by your side. He refuses to have another image of you leaving so he speaks up, “Have you ever liked something that is quite mismatched?”

               The pale peach of your lips curve a little. Your wine red lipstick he knew you always liked has long served its purpose. The hour ago was intimate, having you straddled on his lap to “just kiss,” peppering his jaw in butterfly kisses and breathy wonders of “I really like the way your lips feel on mine.” Your lips are satin on his heated skin and wasted no time reciprocating the intensity you paced, devouring your mewls and moans with the plush of his chapped lips. But what he liked most was the aftermath, the scene after the onslaught of his affection on you – tousled hair, smeared lipstick, and trying to catch the breath you lost because of him. Toning down your aggressiveness, balancing out your edges with his softer ones, he thinks you’re pretty in peach. Well, you’re pretty everyday. It’s just the way you looked now that only he is privileged to see, was stupefyingly beautiful.

               Your voice makes him divert his eyes from the plush of your lips toward your eyes. You let out an amused laugh, “Stop staring at me,” and Hoseok giggles. Grinning wide, you answer his question, “I don’t know, maybe some of your parts.”

               "Why just parts of me?“ He chuckles, quickly drowning the bitterness that unexpectedly dropped in the pit of his stomach.

               You look at the gray ceiling of his car, pondering on thoughts warring in your head. You always tend to think too much and Hoseok knows this ever since he’s been by your side in high school. Until now when you’re living the rest of your prime years as adult-like the both of you could be. He’s still wishing you could let some of them bother his mind too, so you won’t need to always endure the mess your thoughts create. Someday, if you’d let him, he’d always gladly do so. 

He watches you clear your throat, body angling to your side to completely fill his view of you. You lean, body facing towards him just in time he did the same. “You make me…feel happy. Sometimes,” you quickly add, “Especially when I need to. Yeah, you do that to me.“

               Legs crossed on the leather of the passenger seat, your fingers twiddling the frayed ends of your plum-dyed hair. He’s only a few inches away from you, fingers aching to tuck those strands behind your ear. But he’s not in that place…yet. He keeps his hand on the wheel and focusses on the monotonous symphony of the wipers for his beaten-up car and beaten-up heart.

It’s only hopeless because he knows there are weaknesses that will weigh down on your back until you’re on your knees. He just chose the wrong time to give in. “Why sometimes?”

               Especially when you are his weakness.

               "Hmm?“

               Hands leaving the wheel, he leans on the side of his locked door, fully facing you. It’s no use to refuse when temptation and desire has always been in his reach. "I said, why sometimes? Don’t I make you happy always?”

               You only look at his imploring eyes, snickering before you tore them to settle on the fogged glass of the window. “I’m happy, Hoseok, I really am. It’s just-”

               "Him?"

               You pause before affirming, "…yeah."

               And someone else happened to be your weakness. Someone who left you for another woman. It was two years ago, why are you still holding on your pointless hope like a naïve child? Hoseok clenches his fist, nails digging crescents in his palms. He wishes he could also do those impressions on your mind just to wake you to your senses, but he can’t do so. He loves you and he can’t hurt you that bad. He can only say something that has been established true from the start. “You know he’s not coming back, right?”

               "I know, I just-“

               "Wait?” He faces you one more time; you’re still looking outside. “You know you’ve been doing that for a very long time.” Waiting for nothing, refusing to look at him - he meant both of these but he doubts if you could actually notice them. Your eyes had been long blinded by the scraps of his so-called love.

               “I know.”

               The prolonged silence suffocates the air conditioning inside the confines of his car. He revs up the engine and pushed his foot on the pedal. He talks about his yesterday’s dance class and you animatedly joined him with another misadventure in your office. He’s always been good in diversion.

By the time the downpour has receded into a shower, Hoseok has already pulled the vehicle in front of your apartment. You beckoned him to stay for the night, just like always, and he finds himself stumbling inside the threshold of your home.

               But last night was different, and he could assure that because he felt it too.

               You didn’t ask him to make you forget, to erase him from your mind, to make love to you. It was the first for the countless nights you invited him to fill the empty space of the bed on your side. It has always been lonely to keep a large fraction by your side empty and cold. For the years that has passed before you met him and after he left, Hoseok has been trying to tell you that your bed is not designed to just hold two lovers engaged in physical passion. For overnight tornados of desire and lust cannot warm up a frozen heart when it could easily leave wreckage and ruins that may lacerate the fragile organ.

               Hoseok admits to his faults - he’s given in too many times to your pleas, a hipocrisy in act when he’s trying to keep you away from the toxic waters but is willing to toe them until he’s knee-deep if you ask him to - an excuse to touch you, a motive for him to love you. His Achilles’ heel you truly are.

               "Can you just…lie by my side? You don’t have to do anything, I just-“

               "Need someone to fill his space?” Hoseok didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter before he could think about what he spewed.

               But it’s not what’s on your mind. “No, I just need you to be by my side.”

               Hoseok was astounded and can only nod.

               That night, he curled to your side and pulled you close to him, the warmth emanating from his chest lulling you to sleep. In the thin line of consciousness and sleep as he closed his eyes, Hoseok felt you tug his hand draped on your waist to lay them on top of yours. One, two, three - you enclosed your fingers and locked his hand with yours. Like what lovers do. Like what he usually dreamt of doing with you. And while the night is dead, Hoseok pressed a loving kiss on your hairline.

               The indigo dips and creases on your bed are now cream and white and Hoseok looks at you snuggled deep in your sheets. Loving you may hurt but it’s not enough to drive him away. You turn to your side, facing him, and still asleep. Looking at you with peace unusually painted on your un-creased brows and parted mouth, the porch of your chest vulnerable and opened wide, Hoseok decides to drape himself onto you, to embrace and inhale the scent of you with his hands wound around you like the lover who’s capable to hold his love in his arms. He can only grant his heart some peace when you’re sleeping, all his wants and needs muddled in a plethora of affections he could only lay on your doorstep:

               I want to be your friend you can hopelessly fall in love with, the one you could take willingly into your arms, into your bed, into the world you keep to your head unvisited by anyone. I need to love you and know how to touch you – how I could make you stare at your pains in one of those sleepless nights and only feel my love supersede anything that is contrary.

               And Hoseok could only wait until you decide to bask in the daylight, to go out and pick up everything you need to know about him, you, and the both of you.

               Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

               You slowly opened your eyes, meeting his.

               He doesn’t need to think twice; the answer has always been clear. Loving you is something he has always wanted and needed. He’ll always be happy when it comes to you, regardless of conditions and conventionalities - he will be happy through and through, no second thoughts, no regrets. Just you and him, him and you. You don’t have to toss and turn anymore.

               Hoseok smiles. “Good morning, Y/N.”

               You return his smile, your hand in his hold squeezing his. “Good morning, Hoseok.”

               He would wait.

What are you doing?

Re-arranging the furniture.

Why so sudden?

It’s been a while since I gave my home a make-over.

View more songs in my masterlist

A/N | Hello hons! I experimented a new writing style for this and hmm, I’m not sure whether to be happy with it or not (everything feels too new!) Anyway, I liked the new experience! Hope you liked reading this!

BTW!!! I have 3 consecutive exams coming up this week (uni is killing me) so I may not be able to post your requests soon but be assured I’m working on them! (I’m actually already editing some of them as my breather in-between studying) I just don’t want to rush them because I want to give you guys a good content! :D So for the mean time, enjoy my following posts that I queued for these weeks that I will be freaking busy studying and writing papers :’D

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content is allowed without direct permission.

[in-the-grip-of-depression]

In The Grip Of Depression Chapter 26: Anxious Mess

Chapter 1|Previous Chapter|Next Chapter Trigger Warnings: panic attacks, violence, nightmares

Virgil had managed to calm himself down slightly but, barely a few moments after, he was hit by several memories from before he was a main trait which triggered a flashback.

*flashback *

Virgil was sitting curled up in a dark corner, shivering in fear as he glanced around himself searching for any sign of danger.

"Virge? Are you OK?" asked a voice.

Virgil didn't respond he just curled up tighter and tried to blend in with the shadows.

The familiar mismatched eyes of Deceit loomed out of the darkness but they had no hint of sarcasm or smugness. Deceit crouched in front of Virgil with an odd expression on his face.

"it's the nightmares again isn't it?" he asked with a sad smile that looked strange on his scaled face.

Virgil shrugged, trying to avoid Deceits eyes but Deceit sighed and put his hands on Virgils shoulders. "Come spend some time with me and the others. We'll keep your mind of it OK?"

Virgils eyes widened at that and he tried to stammer out a denial but Deceit shushed him and helped him to his feet. "you're not doing yourself any favours by sitting in a corner."

As Virgil was escorted out into a slightly less dark place he muttered "I don’t know if this will help."

Deceit stopped and scowled at Virgil "Are you trying to say I don't know what I'm doing?"

Virgil shook his head frantically at that and Deceit smirked "Just give it a go Virge, if it helps then we don't mind all hanging out for a few hours. I'm pretty sure we can stand each other for that long anyway."

"Oh Jakey boy!" called a high pitched voice making Virgil cringe and Deceit hiss out angrily "How many times have I told you not to call me that damn name?"

The person before them was wearing a bright yellow shirt with a lime green bandanna round their head and had a goofy smile on their face as they watched Deceits anger.

"Aw but Jakey poo how am I to resist when you're being so unusually sweet towards our little Virgie wirgie?"

Virgil felt a bit annoyed at the nickname but couldn't stop his lips from curving up at the completely insane trait in front of him.

"Look Luni he's having those nightmares again so just shut it for once in your existence." Deceit snapped.

Luni's grin shrunk into a concerned little smile as he took a step towards Virgil. "Let's go find our resident grouch potato and go bother him shall we Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged but Luni took that as a yes because he grabbed Virgil by the arm and started skipping back the way he'd come from, Deceit muttering and shaking his head as he followed behind them.

They came to a stop in front of an enormous squashy couch which at first Virgil thought was empty but when Luni called out "Hey Unwin, Virgils been having nightmares again." a large cushion was pushed aside to reveal a scruffy looking person with large bags under his eyes like Virgils. He was dressed in pair of tracksuit bottoms that had seen better days and a shirt that was two sizes too big with a couple holes and stains on the front.

He looked over them with half lidded eyes as if he were about to fall asleep before he let out a loud sigh and muttered "Looks like we'll be having another one of our 'hangout' sessions then."

Luni cheered happily and leaped onto the couch without caring if he landed on Unwin or not.

Virgil tried to sit on the far end but was stopped as the irrational trait said "C'mon Virgil, this is to keep your mind off things, don't make me drag you over here myself."

Virgil reluctantly moved next to Luni who was bouncing in his seat and they were joined by Deceit who kept looking at Unwin like he'd just smelt something foul.

"Anything different about this nightmare?" Luni asked suddenly, turning to Virgil.

Virgil sighed and replied quietly "It was mostly the same but I heard voices coming from the smoke this time. I couldn't make out what they were saying though."

There was a short silence before Luni spoke again "what do you think would happen if we managed to get into the main mindspace?"

Virgil shrugged and turned to look at Deceit who he knew was the most eager to go to the main mindspace only to notice a scowl on his face.

"Maybe you should ask Jacob, he's...." Unwin started to say with a sneer but Deceit raised a hand and shut him up using his ability.

Virgil started to pull his hood up as the usual bickering began, snickering quietly as Luni started belting out one of his made up songs at the top of his voice to drown out whatever Deceit was saying.

They may be a complete bunch of outcasts who argued at every opportunity but they were still his friends and sometimes the arguments were the best form of distraction.

*end of flashback*

Tears rolled down Virgils face as he remembered each time the odd group had helped him during panic attacks and after nightmares.

It had been many years since he'd seen them, not including Deceit or Jacob as Virgil now remembered he was called. A small smile twitched at his lips as he decided that every time he was called Virge he would call Deceit Jake.

His mind started drifting to the less pleasant parts though. The more violent arguments between Jacob and Unwin, the screams of rage from Luni when Unwin decided he'd had enough of everyone for a few days and would disappear with no warning and worst of all, the nightmares.

The nightmares he had nearly always involved him wandering through a brightly lit corridor until he came to a dead end and he'd turn around to see a large wall of black smoke slowly drifting closer.

It would engulf him and he would start struggling to breathe. Occasionally he'd hear voices and see shapes in the smoke but that was on rare occasions.

Virgils breathing started to pick up as he remembered the feelings of loneliness and his energy was starting to collide with his walls and floor, staining them even darker than they were before.

As the energy swirled around him he could hear very quiet voices and tried to scoot further away in alarm. This was just like his nightmares.

His back collided with a wall and the energy seemed to be pulsing. He felt his lungs aching as his breaths came out in pants and the energy seemed to be absorbing into him and then flowing back out.

The voices started getting louder until Virgil could make out the words "You failed."

Virgil clamped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the voice but it was like it was right next to his ear. "You failed at getting rid of Preston. You failed as a friend to the others and as Thomas's protector."

Virgil shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down but the words the voice next spoke made him sob slightly.

"You're a danger to Thomas now. Your friends will be forced to kill you and that will in turn destroy them. You've messed everything up badly this time."

Virgils energy was swirling around him like a tornado and he was in the very eye of it, sobbing as he thought of how his plan had failed.

The energy pulsed and started to widen out as Virgil began to accept that what the voice was saying was true and then it suddenly seemed to explode outwards and disappear.

Virgil shook slightly, his mind buzzing with everything the voice had said and his face hidden behind his knees.

He still had his eyes shut so he didn't notice the black smoke radiating from him like some weird version of dry ice.

The door opened and Virgil looked up, meeting the eyes of Deceit/Jacob.

Jacob was frozen in place, having gasped as he saw the eerie glowing eyes from beneath Virgils bangs.

"Virge?" he asked cautiously and flinched as Virgils lips twisted into a creepy smile.

"Jakey boy, I thought you'd forgotten about me." Virgils voice was deeper and sinister sounding. "Just like everyone else."

Jacob's eyes widened as he realised what Virgil was saying. "They haven't forgotten about you Virge. They're incredibly worried actually, especially Roman."

Virgils eyes dulled a little at the mention of Roman before they went back to full on glowing as Virgil laughed. "Wow I think that's probably one of the funniest things I've ever heard. Deceit trying to convince me that everyone is worried, especially someone who's proven in the past that he hates me. You're skills are starting to lack a little."

Jacob had a sudden realisation. Virgil had told him about the nightmares he used to have and this was just like one of them. The black smoke Virgil had been so scared of was his own energy and it seemed his fear of it taking over seemed to have come true.

"Roman doesn't hate you. From what I understand you both confessed to have feelings for each other and the other lying thing stopping you from being together was the barrier." Jacob was taking small steps forward while he spoke, hoping he could use his usual trick to calm him down.

Virgils eyes flickered back to their original colour for a few seconds before the glow came back again. "Even if that were true, there's still no way of us being together because I am a danger to Thomas. Preston is a pathetic little fly bite compared to the impact I'll have."

"take deep breaths and calm yourself down then, we can sort everything out and work out ways to keep you from freaking out and affecting Thomas." Jacob said, now almost within reach of Virgil.

Virgil let out a bitter laugh "Its too late for that Jake, I'm a failure and a danger, the only way out for me now is death."

Jacob leapt forward and grabbed Virgils arm, pulling him in for a hug which caught the anxious trait by surprise.

"What... What are you doing?" Virgil gasped.

"I'm showing you that no matter what that voice in your head says, you are cared for and not just by me. I'm being 100% honest when I say the others think of you as part of the family. I know that if Luni and Unwin were here they'd tell you that as well. Don't give up, show me that sarcastic, edgy little Virge that I remember." Jacob said pouring as much sincerity as he could into his voice.

Virgil remained frozen before a few tears started to fall from his eyes and he slumped into Jacobs arms.

"I just feel so..... " Virgil sobbed, unable to think of the correct word to describe all the emotions he was feeling.

Jacob tightened his arms and whispered "just remember how much everyone cares for you and needs you. Think of how Thomas will react when you tell him you're not going anywhere."

Virgil sobbed a few times before raising his head with a horrified gasp. "Oh no! I need to go check on Thomas!"

Jacob tried to stop him but Virgil vanished.

"Virgil! Where are you?" a voice suddenly shouted from outside the room. Jacob didn't have enough time make himself invisible as the door was thrown open and standing there was Patton and Roman.

"Deceit!" Snarled Roman, taking a step forward as if he were going to attack.

Jacob groaned. "God fucking damn it. Why now of all times?"

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 2: Self-Insert Power Fantasy

The outcast Florante awakens unusual special powers while dreaming. He then unleashes his pent-up frustrations against all his classmates who bullied him... in the dream.

Surely releasing all his stress in a dream is a healthy way of dealing with it, right? A victimless crime. But what if it wasn’t a dream...?

My original fiction. You can also find it here. Please enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

Florante walked outside the gates of Fatima School, his head in the clouds. Dark, nimbus clouds with scattered rain showers and thunderstorms followed him.

He must've blacked out earlier. What had just happened?

Everything was quiet. The whole school was a wreck. Did he get caught in the middle of a Signal No. 4 typhoon and only came to just now to realize it, when everyone else had already evacuated?

His gut felt like it was on fire. His head, or perhaps his brain itself, throbbed like a second palpitating heart that pulsated in conjunction with his actual heart.

He hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on.

He looked at his hands. They were stained with blood.

Shit. What happened?! Was it his blood that...?

He then heard a voice say, "I found you. You naughty little devil."

The apparition of a beautiful girl with long, flowing hair and transparent watery wings emerged from the rain and mist.

He asked her, "Who are you?!"

As the strange female being stared at Florante with an unreadable expression, she whispered, "Archangel Raphael."

This made him remember the comic books he drew about the four most famous archangels: Gabriel. Raphael. Uriel/Azrael. Michael.

Who was she? Why was her face so familiar? She was stunningly gorgeous. In fact, she kind of reminded him of his high school crush.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else, Flor."

Wait. She knew him?

Wait. Laura. She looked like Laura! The same Laura that he had just... had just...!

Damn it.

"Prepare to die," the angelic version of Laura said before becoming a blur of fluid glassy wings, a downpour of pressurized water, and certain death.

It then all came back to him in an instant.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

When dreams become nightmares.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 2: Self-Insert Power Fantasy

***

During the summer before his first day at Fatima High School...

Florante Galang actually read through the book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People" by Dale Carnegie in order to avoid becoming a pariah in his new school like he was back in his old school.

For all the good it did him later on.

He inwardly swore his high school days were going to be much different from his lonely grade school days, when no one his age would talk to him and only people a year or two younger than him tolerated his presence. Or even looked up to him.

It was supposed to be his high school debut. His chance to turn a new leaf.

The night before the first day of freshman classes, he tried remembering the advice given to him by that very book that included tips such as "Don't criticize, condemn or complain," "Give honest and sincere appreciation," and "Arouse in the other person an eager want."

He even tried the book's advice in winning over people on his own family, particularly his strict smothering mother, but he must've missed a chapter or two. It didn't work.

Or rather, his attempts at "Get the other person saying 'yes, yes' immediately," and "Ask questions instead of direct orders," led to yet another misunderstanding that got him punished for "disrespecting his elders". Again.

He got a flying piece of footwear—a slipper or flip-flop—hit him right on the head soon afterwards, to be exact.

She also said something about him talking back to his parents and being insolent.

Perhaps he should reconsider the self-help book's advice as less of a surefire way to manipulate his mother into saying yes to her increasing his allowance and more of a set of helpful tips to make himself more appealing to people.

If used correctly, of course.

He did his rote memorization of the self-help book in his bedroom located on the east portion of their abode, with the facade and front yard of their bungalow facing north and his parents' bedroom at the southwest portion.

He used to share his room with his two older sisters but they soon moved out to their own rooms as they saved enough money to expand their home.

It was a familiar room that belonged to him exclusively around Grade 5 to 7. He couldn't remember exactly when.

The linoleum floor, the cream walls, the gray ceiling with discolored tiled patterns on it where the beams supporting them were supposed to be, and the red curtains were all part of his childhood.

The Galangs' humble abode originally had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and (barely) a garden plus a plot of undeveloped land with pebbles and other smooth stones over it. Half of a bungalow in Pasig.

This below sea level part of their property was then slowly filled up with land over the years so that the whole house would rise above the street. From there came the construction of a second part of the home with two more bedrooms and an extra bathroom as well as a garage for the family car.    

With the money his mother earned from their short-lived stint with selling goods through a sari-sari (variety) store and the rest she got from her parents (his grandparents) on top of the ones she saved from his father's engineer work, they were able to turn their half of a house and turn it into a full house, so to speak.

The most notable changes on the bedroom was how it once had two beds but now it only had one. The mirror still had the "Santo Niño (Baby Jesus)" statue there, which he never looked at directly because it gave him the creeps. However, he would never admit such a thing to his prayerful Roman Catholic family.

Regardless, he attempted memorizing and taking to heart many of the lessons the book imparted, but like any other teenaged boy, his short attention span ended up becoming his downfall.

He skipped, scanned, and skimmed through many of the pages of anecdotes and stories in order to find something he could use. He only really wanted the book to help him with his social anxiety so as to turn a new leaf.

All of that "effort" was for naught, of course. His nightmarish bullying in grade school only got worse in high school.

***

Back to the relative present...

One morning in Fatima High, chaos ensued. All hell broke loose.

His head in the clouds, Florante Galang "sleepwalked" into the school, his every step practically gliding through the road, swift as the gale wind, his fingertips emanating sparks and crackles of electrical might.

It was like something out of a movie or a Sci-Fi TV series.

He maneuvered through the heavy traffic jam of the road like a motorcycle delivery man in a hurry, weaving through every nook and cranny with the grace of a swan and the aggressiveness of a duck. Unnoticed by the cars, vans, jeepneys, and trucks around him.

For whatever reason, he ended up with superpowers right off of a superhero comic.

Ah, who cared? It was just a dream, after all.

'That's right. I'm dreaming, aren't I?'

In a dream, anything was possible, including gaining supernatural powers like those of angels, demons, and gods, thus allowing him to wreak havoc on his most hated high school in a relatively harmless way.

This was his stress reliever, he rationalized. A way to blow off steam from all the resentment boiling up inside him as the outcast of his class and this god-forsaken school.

Instead of stopping crime or saving people, he did the exact opposite upon his discovery of his unnatural abilities. He instead committed crime and damned everyone in his path.

Maybe it was because he'd never do any of this in real life. It was his opportunity to have his revenge against those who wronged him.

This was how a normal person would react to getting superpowers, he rationalized. The same way someone would more often than not end up on a spending spree after winning the lottery despite claims to the contrary prior to getting the cash prize.

It was just human nature in action.

He idly wondered why in western comics and manga, the hero with superpowers almost always ended up becoming vigilantes or supernatural policemen.

It was more realistic for them to do what he was doing now, as though he'd just won the lottery and he was about to splurge on the nearest sports car, game console, or mansion.

His list of bullies remained fresh in his mind. His nightmare scenario had become their nightmare scenario. The resident timid freak, "quiet kid", and communal punching bag could now punch back.

One thing came to his mind as he approached Fatima High.

'I have been abused all my life to the point where I don't trust anyone.'

Unbeknownst to the people inside the school, he'd been testing his powers elsewhere, with him appearing like some sort of cyclone or tornado as he blasted through rivers and old buildings with his newfound abilities.

It was so much fun having so much power after being powerless for so long.

He couldn't wait to test them out on actual humans. Fragile, squishy humans.

Yikes. Why did he sound so bloodthirsty all of a sudden?

He then braced himself while also reassuring himself that this was all a dream. A harmless dream.

Because of how unbelievable the situation was, he presumed it was all a dream. A blurry fantasy borne out of his frustration from being rejected by his classmates and seemingly the entire school campus.

He stopped mid-stride. Before him was a familiar face. A girl from school. His classmate.

It was the face of Jennifer "Jenny" Tolentino. She was a petite, intelligent, talkative, and capable do-getter nerdy girl who was one of the first (and few) students to befriend Florante in Fatima High.

The only girl who was kind to him.

"'Sup, Flor. You're here early. What'cha up to?" the bespectacled Jenny asked with an inquisitive head tilt. "You look like you're in a hurry."

Florante smiled and chuckled. Although he still hated that girly nickname his classmates gave him, he ignored it and told her, "You're an okay gal, Jenny. Don't go to school today. For your own good."

"W-What do you mean by tha...? HEY!" she asked, but in the blink of an eye he was gone.

His power fantasy was about to begin.

***

He saw her again. The girl of his dreams. She had locks of black hair, cascading like a starless night. Her face as gorgeous as the sun setting over the ocean. He had yearned to be with her.  

However, today was not the day for him to make her his, whether by words or by action. He lost that chance forever due to their misunderstanding and perhaps his owwn overzealousness.

Pity. She would've looked mesmerizing in their wedding.

This was the drop-dead gorgeous girl who rejected him over a misunderstanding regarding him drawing her in the nude. The class beauty. The pretty young woman who helped put a stop to his social life in Fatima High.

Her perfectly symmetrical face had a gentle look to it. Or it did until she saw him.

There she was. Laura Reyes. His first crush in high school.

She was a healthy girl with sturdy legs, demure eyes, and a wide, unabashed smile as she talked to several of their friends in class. Her hourglass figure created the perfect feminine silhouette as she turned towards him.

He intended to spare her from his power fantasy rampage of revenge like he did Jenny since he really did like her a lot. Before their friendship crumbled to dust with his accidental social suicide, they got along just fine.

They weren't close friends or anything but they could talk to each other.

Just as he was about to move past her though, she flinched at him and gave her a look of contempt.

"Stay away from me, you creep."

Florante snapped then and there, his body surging with electrical might that coursed through his crush's veins, electrocuting her to death.

He didn't go so far as to fry her to toast because it'd be a shame to see such a cute girl turn to ash or dust, but his angry outburst of power did rob her of her life.

What a sick dream he was having.

He hesitated after seeing the girl with fair skin and an angelic body wilt like a flower and fall like velvet unto the grassy ground of the soccer field, unmoving.

Beautiful in death as she was in life.

She fell with the same grace as Evelyn Francis McHale did. The depressed woman who jumped from the Empire State Building on May 1, 1947, landing on a car roof. Songs were written about the picture of Evelyn's corpse that made it look like she was just a Sleeping Beauty rather than dead altogether.

Both appeared like they were resting or napping instead of dead, stuck in an idle daydream.

The boy beside her, a friend of hers from another section whose name eluded Florante, screamed bloody murder and attacked him on instinct.

Galang reacted thusly, shooting his attacker with twice the amount of electricity that he shot Laura, intending to fry him to ash.

The kid crumpled into a ball after Florante moved forward and punched him on the stomach, breaking his ribs. Perhaps also his spine. He soon lay motionless on the grass beside Laura.

Amazing. The asthmatic, unathletic him doing all this.

Before he could finish him off, he heard gasps, screams, and murmurs from everyone around him who witnessed his crime.

He asked himself: What was he doing? Should he be doing this? Wasn't this wrong of him to do this? Should he stop? Turn himself in?

He gulped, exhaled, and heard a whistle as he drew his next breath. His asthma acted up again due to all this stress. How ironic for an asthmatic like him to suddenly have weather-based powers.

He reassured himself that it was all just a dream. Perhaps a lucid dream, but still just a dream. An illusion or perhaps delusion. A fantasy of him evolving and maturing despite his inherent weakness.

It was his power fantasy.

His felt his body feel grow warmer and warmer, reaching a fever pitch as a cyclone or tornado formed around his body. The clouds darkened above, the winds sucking in nimbus clouds and reshaping the sky, turning morning to seeming midnight.

A boy suddenly gaining superpowers from out of the blue to take revenge on his bullies? Surely this was the dream of an idle mind, regardless of whether he made it up during his nighttime slumber or while daydreaming in his boring math class.

With that in mind, he indulged himself, laughing as he experimented upon the nearest of the students with his crackling lighting bolts and energy projectiles.

He found out earlier through morbidly amusing trial and error that by taking control of the energy flowing though him, he could make his electrical powers shock the nervous systems of the surrounding students to the point of making them jump back like frightened cats or spooked frogs.

He kept on moving forward, recalling his list of bullies in his mind. He didn't even need to list them down. He had it memorized by heart.

He'd already crossed his Rubicon anyway.

Starting with the kids Laura was hanging out with. The popular kids.

Like Danny Ilagan. Florante chanced upon him walking down the stairs to where the first floor classrooms were.

Galang remembered Ilagan as the classmate who first teased him about his obvious crush with Laura right in front of her in the lunchroom, which led to her to talk to him less, thinking their every encounter had a hidden agenda on his part.

He was also the guy who suggested Florante draw Laura then lied to her about him drawing her in the nude. He was sketching her body with shapes first before putting on her clothes, dammit!

Florante wasn't as careful with using his powers on Danny as he was with Laura.

He shot him full force with his energy bolt full of presumably millions of volts of electricity, turning him into a shadow on the pavement while the rest of the projectile exploded right through one of the nearby pillars like a bomb.

He was like one of the victims of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan, in fact.

Galang kept walking towards the inside of the building while various students ran away from him, not understanding how he was doing what he was doing. They just ran on instinct, thinking he was packing heat or throwing explosives.

In the hallway, as he walked with murderous intent, he then saw Mr. Neil Nepomuceno. Their social studies teacher who humiliated him in front of the class.

The teacher shouted, "What are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

What was he doing? He wanted to hurt them as much as they had hurt him. And this was all a dream anyway so it was the perfect opportunity to do so. It was his way of venting.

The teacher then hollered out his catchphrase of, "Caramba!" and turned into a grotesque splatter of guts, gore, and giblets on the wall care of a careless yet supernaturally strong backhand.

Damn. Florante didn't know his own strength. He couldn't even look at the mess that used to be Mr. Nepomuceno.

The school was in a panic now.

They had kids under the table. Screaming teachers. Security guards with guns shooting at Florante, but he blew them (literally) away without a second thought.

It was frighteningly easy to kill people his dream. He had to hold back a little bit. Savor the moment.

'Susmaryosep, I sure am screwed up.'

He went up the stairs, sparing several of his classmates he recognized but had no quarrel over. Forgiving them for laughing at the jokes of his bullies and targeting his bullies instead.

Was he not a Merciful God? An Angel of Mercy and Divine Retribution?

He then caught up with Kyle Hernandez inside the computer room, who sat on a chair across a long table. The same guy who had been tag-teaming with Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto to jeer and humiliate him at every turn.

This culminated to Hernandez playing a practical joke on Florante during the flag ceremony. The sections were lined up by height in front of the Philippine flag every Monday.

One Monday, during the flag ceremony where the class was supposed to form two lines, Kyle and many of Florante's classmates all huddled in one line, leaving the line where Galang was much shorter and only about 5-6 people long.

Galang was traumatized ever since.

"Hey, Flor. What's going on outside? Is there a storm? Are classes canceled?" Kyle asked Florante, who didn't respond as he approached him with malice burning through his electrified fingers.

Bristling in remembrance of that humiliating prank, Florante turned a lightning bolt into a laser sword and cut Kyle in half by the chest down, with one half of him shorter than the other like the lines his classmates made that day.

He moved further down the second floor hallway right into the middle stairs. He heard more screams and the stampede of a dozen leather shoes. He silenced them by firing more bolts of energy across the open yard right on the balcony of the second floor hallway.

He then fired off missiles of light from all ten of his fingertips into the classrooms to his left, resulting in debris, pieces of plaster, concrete, and flaming wooden shards to shower all over him.

As the smoke cleared, he made a beeline to the final flight of stairs to get to the third floor library.

He practically flew through the steps, remembering how one of his bullies actually fell back and hit him with his buttocks to the face while the rest of his posse yucked it up.

Those bastards. Make a fool of him, would they? He'd show them. He'd show them all!

He burst through the library's double doors so hard they flew right off of their hinges.

He targeted more of his freshmen classmates, specifically the ones who teased and bullied him while he mostly electrocuted and flung like rag dolls anyone else that got in his way.

Many of the students were wise enough to stay back, hide, or run away from him.  

Alas, the more his power grew the more he couldn't control it. There was bound to be some collateral damage here and there. He honestly didn't know his own strength. Not at this point.

Then there they were. The people who regularly appeared on his "snitch list" to teachers so that they'd stop bothering him but found ways to mess with him regardless.

Steven Catimbang. Sheila Bernal. Isaiah Cuevas. Matthew Lim. Regina Mariano.

Florante spotted them before they went and hid in the computer section of the library or tried to blend in with the rest of the fleeing crowd of students.

Steven was the one who pulled the butt-to-the-face prank on him.

He found Steven at the computer table as he was about to hide under it.

Galang shot Catimbang in time with a bolt to the posterior, destroying the lower half of his body and leaving the upper half crawling in the floor, crying bloody tears and begging for his life (even though it was too late for him).

This was getting seriously fucked up. Goddamn. What was with this dream?

As for Sheila, he found her under another table of the library.

She was the girl from another section who, as he and his boy classmates finished up from their swimming class for P.E. (gender separated), jeered at him and his lack of a bulge on his swimming trunks.

He was jeered relentlessly by his classmates for months after that remark regarding his manhood.

He asked Bernal if she remembered the swimming pool incident, and she just stared blankly at him.

"W-Who are you...? Pl-Please, don't kill me! I'll do anything...!"

She didn't even remember him.

Seeing how big of mouth she had, he decided to suck the air from out of her, vacuuming it right out of her lungs with his powers until she suffocated. He instantly regretted it after seeing the horrified face she made and the blue tinge of her face and whole body.

He moved on, his head throbbing and his finger twitching with static and sparks.

As for Isaiah Pascual, he tried scampering towards the window, but Galang caught him by the collar. "I don't know how you're doing all this, bro, but we're friends, right? I always talked to you! Spare me, man!"

Florante replied, "You abandoned me when I needed you the most. I tried to fit in with you and your group, but you were always so distant."

Pascual kicked Galang by the groin and attempted to run away, jeering, "Yeah, right! Like I'd ever be friends with...!" only to be cut off with his head exploding from one of Florante's light bullets.

"...Yeah. Why'd I ever delude myself into thinking you were my friend?" Florante felt something warm drip on his face. It was Pascual's blood.

He resisted the urge to hurl, looking away at the mess he made of his traitor of a former friend.

Florante wanted to spare Pascual but Pascual made fun of him.

Meanwhile, Matthew Lim cried out, "Leave me alone! I never did anything to you, Flor!" before Florante reminded him, "You made fun of my accent when speaking English. You told people about how when I talked to them, I couldn't stare them in the eye."

"Th-That's it? Dude, we barely even talk or interact! It was Jacinto! Gerry's the one who's always messing with you, dude...!"

He turned Lim into a mangled mess by shooting the ceiling and letting debris fall on him. He turned away as soon as he saw the blood pool from underneath the rubble, before the smoke from the wreckage even cleared.

Then there was Regina Mariano. She once compared him to a baby with fetal alcohol syndrome found on their pamphlet about the side effects of drugs and alcohol.

He hated the teasing she caused back then. But he could barely look her in the eyes now, and it wasn't because of his social anxiety.

No. Right now, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, saying over and over, "I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

He then asked, "Do you believe in God?"

What he said made her cry harder, not knowing what to say except, "I'm so sorry!" over and over again.

He decided to give her a quicker, painless death than the rest, ramping up his gathered chi energy or whatever and releasing a beam of light that turned her to ash in a millisecond. The entire building shuddered from the impact of his forceful will.

...At least it was all a dream. Right? God, he hoped it was a dream.

A fantasy he could use to vent in a harmless way, with him not actually hurting anyone.

Not recognizing the rest of the faces hiding under the tables, smoke, and rubble, he walked out of the library (or what was left of it) in a daze.

He stared back at his cracked reflection on the glass divider of the computer section of the library. All he could see was a shadowy silhouette of a man with shining blue eyes, like a cornered animal at dusk.

Was that everyone? Had he punished all his bullies? No, wait. He still had a few more people to scratch off of his list.

He walked across the soccer field straight to the gym where they had their P.E. classes.

From the roar of the winds, he could idly hear what he surmised as Mrs. Mancenido, crying out for him to stop. Recognizing who he was. Afraid of what he had become.

'Sorry, ma'am,' he apologized to her in his mind. It was too late for him.

Good thing this was all a dream though.

He jumped and crashed right into the third floor basketball court that doubled as a volleyball court.

The gym was mostly empty. The students probably caught wind of what he was doing, even though it was hard to believe or imagine him having the otherworldly powers necessary for this school massacre to take place.

As the winds parted and the smoke cleared, he was greeted by a metal pipe to the back of his skull from out of nowhere.

He turned to see John Sarmiento put up his dukes at him, pipe in hand. "You son of a bitch. Did you kill her, Flor?"

"...Who?" he dared ask even though he knew who he was talking about.

"Laura, you asshole! Why'd you kill her?! How the hell did you turn into... this?"

Florante caught the pipe and used it to conduct millions of volts of electricity at John before answering the convulsing student's question with, "Because she was a bitch to me."

Ah. Sarmiento. He remembered him. They were being ferried around by the same school service. They were bus mates (actually, jeepney mates), in a sense.

Instead of spending gas money driving the kids to school, their parents opted to save money by paying someone with a jeepney to fetch them and other kids around their village from house to house in order to drive them straight to Fatima School.

They weren't neighbors but they lived in the same suburb.

He remembered Sarmiento pranking him, putting cockroaches in his bag like an asshole then denying ever doing it. He was also one of the guys who encouraged him to draw Laura "in the nude" from his imagination when he was just making a sketch of her.

The nerve of him, acting the hero now when he was nothing but a villain to him all this time.

"That is for pranking me with those cockroaches."

Sarmiento spat blood all over Florante's face despite his body writhing in agony. "Really? You're going kill me just for that, you psycho? Like you killed Laura? God damn, you're a petty son of a...!"

Galang then slammed John to the ground with a sickening crunch. Squashed like a bug. A cockroach, even.

How appropriate.

He looked at his wristwatch, amazed that it still functioned after all his effort as well as his use of thunderbolts and electrical shocks.

This really was a dream, then, or else his watch would've ended up busted long ago.

Regardless, he'd been at it with his raging rampage of revenge for almost 40 to 45 minutes. The whole school was in bedlam thanks to the walking pacific storm that was him.

Someone soft and sweet-smelling yet hard-bodied grabbed Florante from behind in a Full-Nelson hold, arms interlocked from under his armpits and hands clasped behind his neck.

"I always knew you were a little psycho," said someone from behind him. Someone... female.

Her words were full of venom but her melodic voice was music to his ears.

Shamed as he was to admit it, this was the closest to female contact he ever had in his life. Probably to no one's surprise in Fatima, given his bad reputation as a friendless weirdo.

Wait, he recognized that voice.

It was Laura's other best friend aside from Jenny. Kelly Mendoza. A promising freshman volleyball player rising in the ranks of their team. One of Laura's best friends.

He then felt something sharp pierce through his uniform. For the first time all throughout his dream, he felt pain. Searing, gnawing pain.

He doubled over in time to realize who had stabbed him with a pocket knife.

It was Mark Zuniga. Gerry Jacinto's second-in-command. Or best friend. Whichever.

The other tough guy of First Year St. Francis of Assisi charged at Florante while he was distracted by Kelly grabbing hold of him so tightly, her breasts pressed close to his back.

Regardless, Florante winced and wheezed from the damage that Zuniga had wrought, gnashing his teeth in agony and indignation.

Another villain wanted to play the hero. Just like a bully who'd mess with you until you hit him back, so now suddenly he was the victim and you were the one who was in the wrong.

This guy. The audacity of this asshole. He remembered him.

Every time they had an oral exam, class recitation, or had to go in front of the board to solve math problems or whatever, he'd be there with Gerry to jeer and mock Florante about his crush with Laura until she herself stopped associating with him.

His body shivered and folded in on itself in hatred, fear, and anger as Mendoza let go of him, his blood pooling on the floor.

"Why are you snarling? You're actually angry? You li'l bitch!" screamed Kelly at Florante's ear as she kicked him where Mark had stabbed him.

"How dare you. You killed Laura! Danny! Mr. Nepomuceno! John! Who knows how many others in the library and classrooms! You're a monster! You have no right to be this angry, asshole! Don't play the victim now!"

Ha. He was the one playing the victim?

Mark stabbed him again, this time sticking his knife at Florante's back.

"As far as I'm concerned, he deserves all of his bullying," said Zuniga. "Not only is he a snitch. He's also a psycho. We were protecting Laura from weirdo creeps like him. No wonder he has no friends."

Galang also remembered that one time, when he was alone in the mall, Zuniga chanced upon him with his own girlfriend, saying, "Aw, still no GF, Flor?"

He then overheard them make fun of him behind his back as an awkward virgin who was fated to be forever alone.

Come to think of it, the girl he was with probably was the same one holding him back with a wrestling move.

"You should've killed yourself instead, since no one would care if you died!" said Zuniga.

That was the last straw.

This fucking bastard. This bitch. This wasn't the first time Zuniga told him to kill himself. Even before Florante went on a murder spree, he already told him the same words.

It was amazing what monsters people ended up becoming when treating those they believe were monsters themselves.

First, he blew the volleyball varsity player away into the roof and the sky with a blast of spiraling air, with her shrieking like a banshee all the while. She ended up pretty high up before she came crashing back down.

With a sickening thud.

Florante averted his eyes from the harsh and inevitable crash from the screaming Kelly.

Instead, he focused his attention on Zuniga. His bully who stood a good few inches above him and several inches thicker in musculature than him seemed smaller somehow as he floated in the air with static and sparks.

Galang didn't know what sort of face he made, but it elicited a gape-mouthed, wide-eyed look of what he presumed was awe on the part of one of his worst bullies in school.

It felt so good seeing the tables turned on him for once. Even though it was a dream.

Yet it also felt anti-climatic shooting him to oblivion with five bolts of energy from one hand when usually one or two was enough to blast entire classrooms into smithereens.

"FLORANTE!"

Florante heard his name echo across the wrecked basketball court from a familiar booming voice. A voice he'd heard countless times, mocking him. Haunting him like a resentful ghost. The voice of his biggest, most savage of bullies and critics.

Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto.

Each and every one of his fingertips then grew hot with growing power and energy. Instead of five shots, he wanted to shoot his whole payload of ten pure light bullets unto the bastard who made his time in Fatima a Living Hell.

Gerry wasn't seething with anger like Mark was. For someone who just saw the murder of his best friend (and best friend's girlfriend), he had a pretty smug smirk on his face.

Florante breathed out a sigh of relief. This definitely was a dream or else the real Gerry would've reacted more severely to what he had wrought.

He faced off with the huge and lanky bully who'd normally push him around with ease. Finally, he could push back. At last, he could fight back and then some.

Galang fired off all ten bullets of light energy and plasma straight at Gerry, expecting them to turn him into ash or a shadow on the floor, if not turn the entire gym into a smoking pile of rubble.

There was no kill like overkill, after all.

However, to Galang's surprise, Jacinto shrugged off the miniature comets like specks of water or rain, the bolts of power exploding behind him and giving his bullish rush an extra boost care of the resulting simultaneous shockwaves from ten blockbuster-tier explosions.

The tall basketball player charged and tackled the nerdy asthmatic, who could only stand there, jaw metaphorically unhinged in shock, before a meaty punch on the same jaw literally unhinged it from its socket.

"SHUSHMARYOSHEP!" Florante called out, wincing as he snapped his jaw back into place with palm. It looked so easy to do in the movies, but when you did it yourself, they never tell you about the toothache-like pain of attempting such a move afterwards.

Meanwhile, the sneering Gerry mimicked and repeated his "catchphrase" to his face, mocking him. "'Susmaryosep'? What are you, an old lady attending mass at Quiapo Church?" He laughed his heart out.

Ooof. Even in his dreams, his nightmare of a bully still had the upper hand?!

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Galang willed lighting strikes to appear and hit Jacinto over and over while at the same time charging compressed pinpoint spheres of energy above each and every finger.

Was this hitting two birds with one stone? No, it was hitting one bird with all the stones he could get his hands on.

His metaphor ultimately didn't work in the end after he missed Jacinto by a mile then got hit himself by his bully's shuddering sledgehammer punches, unable to retaliate or shoot any of his bullets that leveled most of the high school building earlier on.

"You really are a virgin with rage, aren't you? Mr. Sensitive. Mr. 'The whole world is against me. Oh woe is me.'"

Florante ended up curled into a ball, remembering his mother hitting him with his father's belt whenever he misbehaved as a child.

Still, for some reason, he was still more afraid of his mom than this tall, beefy alpha male who turned him into a punching bag.

"You're blaming us for you having no friends? Let me guess, you think it's us and not you that have mental problems. Everybody else is the asshole. You're the saint here! You psycho war-freak!"

Florante grit his teeth, afraid his jaw would get dislocated or altogether broken by Jacinto's hammer fists. Vaguely, he remembered hearing how his bully also trained in boxing as a hobby.

Throughout the haze of pain and what seemed like endless fists raining down upon him, he realized something.

Somehow, someway, Gerry gained the same special superpowers as he did, allowing him to keep up with him. Or even surpass him.

Jacinto beat and ground him to a pulp, breaking his right hand, cracking several of his ribs, punching his face until one of his eyes swelled shut, bending his leg at an awkward angle, and triggering his asthma to the point that the mere act of breathing felt like torture.

Once again, the popular kid at the center of everything was beating up the little guy that no one liked. As usual. This was natural selection in action.

"Make the effort to change or face the consequences of your own bad behavior, moron! If everyone in society is laughing and condemning you, is it really society's fault? Or is there a chance you're the one who's being the insecure jerk?"

Gerry slammed Florante's face and body into the devastated basketball court, making the entire third floor of the building shudder from the impact. "Apologize now, and maybe I'll consider sparing your life."

'Apologize...?' Florante thought while on the brink of unconsciousness, the darkness seeping through the sides of his blurring vision.

He then wondered if going unconscious in a dream meant waking up in real life.

Even in his dreams, Jacinto got the better of him. The charming bully you never saw in TV shows and movies who made you think you deserved being bullied by him.

Galang couldn't humiliate Gerry with a joke that made the whole class laugh or embarrass him in front of Laura the way they did to him. Not in real life and not in his fantasy.

This was what he learned all throughout his stay at Fatima High.

People would torture you. People would turn you into an outcast. And if you were to retaliate, they'd declare you the bad guy.

Florante once remembered punching the head of one of his bullies for messing with him for so long, only for him to get in trouble and end up in the principal's office because his bully dared claim to be the victim instead.

It was a good thing a teacher from his last school caught his bullies bullying him red-handed, allowing him to write down the names of those who teased him so that they'd cut it out.

However, this only ended up giving him the reputation of being a snitch back in his former alma mater.

He could never win. Damned if he told on his bullies and damned if he kept silent about the bullying. It wasn't fair.

Well then, screw being fair. He had enough.

In reality, he couldn't take his revenge on Jacinto in a fair, reciprocal manner. Instead, Florante could only vent his frustrations at him or the "him" that existed in his mind this way. Through a nightmarish power fantasy about revenge.

His coping mechanism was having violent dreams. Either that, or punching the wall again and getting scolded by his mother for breaking either the wall or his fist.

As Jacinto prepared to knock him out or worse, Florante saw his opening.

With his remaining healthy left hand flowing with pinpoint spheres of energy at each fingertip, Galang thrust his clawed hand and every single finger into Jacinto's broad chest, drawing blood.

"...Apologize? Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I ever met you. Go to Hell."

His hot fingers dug deeper and deeper into Jacinto's chest even as the bully kept punching his already broken face and body into ground beef. He just wouldn't let go.

"LET GO, FLOR! LET GO! I ain't joking! FUCK!" the punches became more rapid. Stronger. Harder. Faster. Panicked. There was actual fear in Gerry's eyes for once.

It felt so satisfying to see him like this.

Galang could feel Jacinto's heart pound at the same time as his own excited pulse. He gripped the heart tightly then pulled.

From inside Gerry's chest, Galang shot his five energy bullets simultaneously, which fried the jock's insides and made the entire top half of his body explode into electric fire, guts, muscles, tendons, blood, and giblets.

The hint of ozone permeated the air along with the smell of burnt human flesh.

As what was left of Jacinto's lifeless corpse fell to the ground with a wet thud, Florante heaved a relieved sigh, the pelting rain falling from the large gaping hole in the ceiling (practically a skylight) washing the blood, sweat, and tears from his beat-up body and face away.

It was all just a dream. A fantasy. A way for him to vent from all the stress of his real-life bullying.

Everything he had done so far were victimless crimes against, well, imaginary straw-men (and straw-women).

...Right?

***

As Florante strode through the pure devastation of what was once Fatima High that he left behind in his wake, he felt unsatisfied somehow. Empty. Hollow.

Was that it? He got his revenge against the people who wronged him. What now?

He looked at the consequences of his actions and cringed. That feeling was familiar.

Like the aftermath of a storm. Or a temper tantrum when he was about 6 or 7 years old.

It felt cathartic to release all that pent-up anger and frustration he couldn't verbalize or express at any of his classmates normally, but now he felt a huge amount of guilt weigh him down.

Was any of this called for? What was he thinking?

Instead of relief, he felt like he did whenever he lost his temper when he was a toddler, only to end up hurting those around him or humiliating himself.

He went too far. He overdid it.

This wasn't "Even-Steven". This wasn't fair. Well, for him, some of them were, like how it felt satisfying to grind Zuniga into the ground like that.

No, no. What was he thinking? They bullied him and he killed them in return. That was an overreaction. He made things worse instead of better.

This wasn't him. He was a nice guy. Dealt a bad hand by fate. Born a social outcast with social anxiety and awkwardness around people.

He didn't really want to hurt anyone, but his temper always got the better of him, leading him to do things he wouldn't otherwise do.

Florante walked outside the entrance gates of Our Lady of Fatima School of Mandaluyong, his head in a daze. He could hear the wheeze and whistle of his asthma from under his breath after every exhale.

Everything was quiet. The whole school was a wreck. It felt like his throbbing brain was slamming itself right into his skull, demanding release.

He might've been in shock. For a minute or two, he didn't know where he was or what had happened.

He then heard a voice say, "I found you. You naughty little devil."

The apparition of a beautiful girl with long, flowing hair and wings-shaped water cascading behind her like a cape emerged from the rain and mist.

He asked her, "Who are you?!"

As she stared at Florante with an unreadable expression, she whispered, "Archangel Raphael," which made him remember the comic books he drew about the four archangels.

Who was she? Why was her face familiar? She was so gorgeous.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else."

She reminded him of Laura Reyes.

Wait. Laura? As in the girl he met on the first day of school that he had a crush on? The same Laura that he had just... murdered?

Like a bolt out of the blue, he remembered everything he'd done an hour ago.

Laura had awakened to supernatural powers like Florante had and transformed into the Archangel Raphael to avenge the deaths of all the people he just killed, including her.

She was there to take him away. Probably to kill him. Give him karmic justice for all that had transpired.

He felt the corners of his mouth quirk. This was all probably for the best. Let his crush finish him off and pay for his crimes. Let her become his Angel of Death.

Wait, so why was she Raphael instead of Azrael?

Faster than he could even fathom or wonder why she was named after the Angel of Healing instead of the Angel of Death, Raphael flew towards him with watery tendrils.

Everything became a blur from that point on when he and Archangel Raphael finally faced off.

His life then flashed before his eyes.

And then he finally woke up.

Thank God.

***

What a weird, horrible dream.

Yet another dream in a series of dreams. Perhaps nightmares, even.

Not night terrors, though. You didn't remember night terrors after waking up.

He rubbed the rheum from his crusty eyes, got hold of a pen and paper (notebook), and wrote down what had happened in his latest dream on his dream journal.

That one was a doozy.

What was wrong with him, dreaming up such scenarios? He told himself that he'd never do such a thing in real life. Not only because he didn't want to but because he couldn't.

No one developed superpowers like this except in fiction. Fan fiction. Self-insert fan fiction. This was obviously a dream. A dream a psycho would come up with but a dream nonetheless.

A dream about how the crush who rejected him just killed him after he killed her first.

His dream was indeed just a manifestation of his longing to belong.

Apparently, it was all a "fever dream" of Florante's. He ended up not going to school that day because of how high of a fever he had, which was also compounded by his asthma.

The feverish asthmatic called in absent for three days until he recovered.

Ugh. At least he'd have a break from all his bullying at Fatima High.

***

Three days after his fever dream, he went back to school. His prison.

For an introvert like him, home was freedom and the outside was maximum penitentiary.

It was in Fatima High School in Mandaluyong where he now found himself exiled. He was left in a prison city. Heaven for others and hell for him.

As usual, it rained hard. It was the rainy season during June in the tropical Philippines, after all.

On the plus side, because it was raining, he didn't have to deal with the weekly morning flag ceremony every Monday, with everyone gathered around the concrete stadium under the hot sun. He had his morning classes instead.

He didn't view the rain as an omen of things to come. Just something unavoidable and inconvenient given the season. He'd already said his goodbyes to the sun back in summer.

The only people he could hang out with were the Dead Kids, and even then he could only do so during lunchtime and through the Art Club. Most of the time, he was left to his own devices with the classmates he loathed.

He detested Fatima High School. He loved Pasig. For the most part, anyway.

He was not a big fan of the river of mud and vegetation known as the Pasig River. When it flooded, it had waters with the consistency of chocolate milk. The chocolate milk river. 'Don't drink from it, though,' he mused.

Regardless, he remained the new guy in town. In a new school. A freak. No student there was anyone he grew up with. He had to make friends quick or else he'd end up a pariah like in his last school.

However, for whatever reason, his classmates were somehow more distant to him now than before. Usually, they took the time to mess with him.

Now? They seemed to go out of their way to ignore him.

Did something happen again? Like the time after P.E. class, all the boys in the changing room noticed his undershirt was threadbare to the point of being see-through, so they teased him and called him a male stripper?

He briefly considered the chance of them having the same nightmare as him massacring students left and right before waving the thought off.

'As if that'd ever happen.'

On one hand, this was just par for the course with all the bullying he went through so far in high school. On the other hand, it seemed somehow different. They were actually leaving him alone for once, which was kind of a refreshing change.

He was still the social pariah, but at least they weren't calling him names or making him the butt of their jokes as usual.

That was on the plus side. On the "minus" side of things, he still ate alone at lunch. None of the Dead Kids were available and he didn't have Art Club that day.

Where did they go? Did something happen? He had hoped he wasn't kicked out of the group or anything, like what had happened to him and the gang of Laura and Gerry after the "nude" drawing incident.

Maybe if he were better looking, he'd have more confidence and friends? Like a sporty, tall kind of guy instead of a normal guy who was just... there? However, no matter how good he appeared, being a crybaby beyond the age of 4 years old was never a good look anyway.

If only he were manlier then perhaps girls would look his way without eyes of disdain, pity, or disinterest. Maybe. He didn't want to think about it. It made him cringe in embarrassment.

Instead, he ended up being a tan-skinned, brown-eyed, and stringy-haired kid with an almost bowl-cut hair parted in the middle. A total geek, in short.

***

That Thursday, school sucked as usual. You'd think Florante's impromptu three-day sabbatical would improve things, but they didn't.

On second thought, maybe it did.

Many of his classmates had thankfully gotten sick and tired of messing with him, with all those tough guy jocks and bullies focusing their attention on his other classmates and their... imperfections.

Florante felt the pain of his fellow bullying victims as they were made fun of because of things like being too quiet, having eyes that were unusually big, or alleging one of them had... mental issues.

No, the First Year St. Francis of Assisi bullies weren't exactly politically correct with their insults.

With that said, perhaps rather than a premonition, he should've been more worried about what had already happened. Like his fever dream he somehow couldn't forget.

Well, he kind of couldn't forget. As the day wore on, the details of the dream became hazy like with any other dream, but the summary of it remained fresh in his mind.

In order to vent, he gained supervillain-level powers in his dreams and killed his most of classmates, many of whom were his staunchest of bullies.

A disturbing fantasy but a fantasy nonetheless. A victimless crime that was all in his mind.

If only something unusual like that were to happen.

Not necessarily him doing a mass murder of the scope of The Peoples Temple in Jonestown. Sure, that was a different kind of massacre he read from one of the library books during recess, but a massacre nonetheless.

Something more like an exciting new adventure. New horizons for him. Now that he'd released all his pent-up rage in his dreams, perhaps he could delve into something more positive for once.

Like doing some oil painting (too expensive, though). Or finishing his unfinished comic book series, maybe by basing it on his dream journal (if only he had the time and motivation to make it).

'Note to self: Never tell anyone from my class that I keep a dream journal,' Florante thought. He was bullied enough already. No need to add that cherry on top of his shit sundae of a life.

Or maybe he could do something more fantastic, like him piloting a giant robot. Or him ending up with a harem of girls. Or him saving the world from the threat of annihilation by monsters.

Or something.

The dismissal bell then rung.

As his classmates started milling towards the exit, he willed himself to ignore the stares he felt at his back. It was the familiar feeling of being watched for the tiniest clumsy mistake, weird behavior, or angry outburst.

He heard idle chatter from the different cliques and groups formed within their class across the months they'd been together in one classroom, talking about where they wanted to eat or wished to go.

The malls of Mandaluyong were walking distance from their school, after all.

Unlike college in the Philippines or high school in the U.S., the Fatima private school had all the subjects taught in one classroom instead of students moving from one classroom to another. It was the teachers who moved from section to section or room to room.

They were more like schools in Japan, where one class full of students stayed in one classroom for the whole year. They didn't switch out and mingled with other sections in the same year except during club meetings, where students from different years and sections could join.

Nothing significant happened today. Nothing really changed. It was business as usual, even though his bullies at least let him off the hook for today.

As he was about to go to his school service at the school parking lot, the "something" he wished would happen finally happened.

He should've been careful what he wished for, to be honest.

As an aside, it was like déjà vu all over again.

A huge boulder that looked like a piece of the Fatima Grade School building fell right on the jeepney that served as his school service, crushing it in its weight.

"Wha...?" he said, his face draining of color as he remembered the school service driver there who once treated him to taho (Philippine snack food made of fresh soft/silken tofu, arnibal sweetener and flavoring, and black gelatinous sago pearls).

He turned around. The school he just exited ended up in ruins, with students running away everywhere screaming as mayhem ensued.

To be more specific, right above the school floated an unfathomable monster with two gigantic eyeballs sitting atop a body made of a mountain of minced meat and long tangled spaghetti pasta that undulated and wrapped themselves around the nearest buildings and hapless people like a dense forest of guts and intestine.

Damn. To think, spaghetti was his favorite food too.

It was like he was losing his mind just looking at that incomprehensible thing, much less try to describe it.

His thoughts zipped a mile a minute, going from the horrible realization that his fellow school service students in Pasig and the jeepney driver had been crushed to death to Fatima School itself getting demolished by a ridiculous-looking giant monster.

Wait, did he fall asleep again? Was he indulging in another one of his secret "edgy" fantasies he'd never dare (nor could) do in real life? Or share with anyone because he might be sent to a mental hospital afterwards?

That must've been what happened. None of this was real.

His fever dream still fresh in his mind, he gingerly moved forward instead of away from the tentacle monster even as students and teachers (as well as other faculty members and staff) of all ages ran away from it.

He felt compelled to do so, feeling the same way as he had in his fantasy. It was too unreal for his mind to wrap around it as actually happening.

The  (for lack of a better name) giant spaghetti monster crawled across the parking lot like kudzu grass, moving from one building to the next and crushing them under its weight like saltine or soda crackers.

The creature didn't so much move around as grew so that its fleshy red membrane of a body with bulging giant eyeballs could transfer itself from one position to the next, like a vine or flowering plant would but sped up.

Its pasta tentacles flooded the streets of Shaw Boulevard and St. Francis Street with its endless, root-like tendrils and tentacles of varying sizes, resulting in a heavy traffic jam. It appeared to be headed towards the nearest mall.

Why though?

He stopped running towards the monster after seeing it swallow up several students in its sea of viscera, guts, and intestinal entanglements. Some of them kids from Fatima Grade School who hung out after dismissal for far too long.

A few of them were his fellow students from high school. Most of them were unfamiliar or vaguely familiar faces. One in particular caught his eye.

A bespectacled, short-haired girl climbed and practically swam in the disgusting sea of oily pasta in order to reach the eye balls of the strange eldritch horror.

Brave of her to do so, but her face looked familiar.

Wait a minute.

It was Jenny! Jennifer Tolentino. The girl he spared in his dream before he "massacred" his bullies.

The Italian dish of a monster saw her just in time to wrap a multitude of its tendrils around her neck, arms, and limbs. Like with many other students and teachers in its noodle grasp

The one girl in their class who was nice to him was about to die.

Before he knew it, Florante found himself running towards the monster instead of away from it.

Was it out of morbid curiosity or a death wish? He couldn't tell.

Like in his dream, he shot out bolts of lightning and reverberating shockwaves of thunder at the living spaghetti creature, freeing up many of the students in its suffocating grasp.

He even shot one of the creature's eyes and cut through its tendrils in time to get even Jenny loose, catching her right in his arms after she fell.

"...F-Flor!" she exclaimed as he landed on his feet while holding her in a bridal carry. "Y-You saved me!"

He felt his cheeks grow warm as he gently put her back to the ground on her own two feet. He then faced away from her, at a loss for words.

"Thank you!" he heard her say from behind him, which made him mutter, "Y-You're welcome," under his breath.

This was it.

He didn't really want to kill all his classmates like in his other fever dream where he vented his frustrations over their bullying of him.

He wanted to be accepted. Respected. Validated. Loved. Or at least tolerated and left alone instead of having every single quirk or action he did scrutinized and mocked by his supposed peers.

He wanted his existence acknowledged at school. He wanted to be treated fairly like all the other students. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He just wanted to stop them from hurting him.

Maybe he could get one or two close friends as well. That wouldn't hurt.

His resentment (and imagination) merely got the better of him in that nightmare of his.

His confidence boosted, he then charged at the monster wreaking havoc all over the street like mountains of spilled Italian food, intending to fry it into charcoal.

"Gabriel, watch out...!" Jenny screamed.

"Gabriel...?" he repeated, only to have tentacles shoot out from behind him, stabbing him in the back.

He let out a small exhale, choking at the air he suddenly couldn't breathe.

The monster did a sneak attack on him, he realized too late. It spread its noodle limbs into the nearest drain then shot it up where he couldn't see.

He then saw the world spin all around him, from sky to concrete to car to dirt to van to pillar to post and back again to the sky in an infinite loop.

He got dragged and flung around until he felt the spaghetti monster's tendrils snap like lizard tails, hurling him to the roof of a Toyota Tamaraw FX utility vehicle.

Tears streamed down his eyes as his whole body throbbed except his legs, which horrified him. He suffocated in pain, unable to even groan.

Had the spaghetti monster turned him to roadkill? What sort of nightmare was this? His powers from his previous dream failed him, and now he felt death creep in the edges of his blurry vision.

Hah. Served him right.

That was what he got thinking he could take on that nightmarish, tentacled pseudo-octopus. Shooting helpless students with no superpowers was way different from dealing with a giant incomprehensible mess of a leviathan that could fight back.

He then gasped as a feeling of euphoric relief enveloped him. The soothing warmth pierced through his being and spread across his body like a fever. He then reverted back to heart-rending pain as he finally felt his legs or what was left of them pulsate in pure agony.

He screamed. He cried. He clawed at the ground, gnashing his teeth.

Or maybe they were fine after all, as he soon felt okay enough to move his feet around, from his thighs and knees to his ankles and toes. He dared peer at himself, only to see bloody, torn pants draped over perfectly healthy legs, the frighteningly large laceration over his hamstring closing up like magic.

He then looked up to see Jenny Tolentino kneel over him in seeming prayer, a cool neon mist of light transferring from her body to his.

Wait. Was she... healing him? Was that what was happening? Like a healer from an RPG videogame? Man, this is one crazy-ass dream!

The girl with the glasses then said, "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Jenny...?" Florante trailed off.

Jenny took a deep breath and said, "Listen up, Flor. You're an Ophanim."

"P-Pardon?" stuttered a flabbergasted Florante. "I'm a... what?"

"An angel. You're an angel without wings, Flor."

***

To Be Continued...

Fun fact: I actually made a Geocities site for this story once while considering turning it into a webcomic. Or at least I named the Geocities site after the title of this work, which featured a "Gabriel De Angeles" protagonist instead of a "Florante Galang" one at the time.

Farewell, Abdiel

[torontotravelblog]

30 Cool Things to do in Toronto, Canada

Toronto won my heart by tornado. After spending a week road tripping around Ontario as well as immersing myself in nature and also peace, Toronto was just the appropriate combination of laid-back attitude as well as big city buzz for me. I discovered the city with lots of time at my hand and also gathered a checklist of 30 cool points to do in Toronto that will be available in useful, whether you are trying to find websites to see, activities to do, places to consume or where to remain. This Toronto city overview has it all!

For me the ideal way to check out a brand-new city is to obtain as near neighborhood life as feasible. So when I had the opportunity to travel to Ontario in fall 2016, I knew I really did not simply wish to invest the normal a couple of days in Toronto and also race from sight to sight ...

I wanted to experience what it seemed like to live in Toronto, locate my much-loved cafe to deal with my writing, find neighbourhood dining establishments and shops, stroll the marketplaces and also classic shops, and also simply generally find out what makes the city so fascinating. I wound up investing 10 days below and did every one of those things-- and also even more. Not every one of the things on this listing of things to do in Toronto are sights, some are straight-out random day-to-day points I did while I was making believe to be a regional-- however all are must do's on your schedule!

Sites & Attractions: Points to do in Toronto

1) Ride the elevator approximately the top of CN Tower

CN Tower is a shocking 553.3 metres high and also held the record for the highest free-standing building till 2007. It is the ninth-tallest tower on the planet as well as for CAD$ 38 you can get to the top of it!

The elevator takes you to 2 different sight decks 342 and 346 metres high. On the lower deck you can walk throughout a glass ceiling-- if you risk-- as well as accessibility an outdoor terrace. You can also book added access to the tower's SkyPod (at 447 metres) or an Edge Stroll on top of the major sheathing of the tower at 356 metres.

CN Tower, 301 Front Street West, internet site

Getting there: City line 1 to St Andrew Station, Tram to Union Station

2) Do a complimentary guided scenic tour at the Royal Ontario Gallery

I had actually not planned on going to the Royal Ontario Museum on the same day as the footwear museum, yet they are so close to one another, that it would have been a missed chance. The ROM provides a significant collection of art, world culture as well as natural history-- there is most definitely excessive to see it done in just one see.

After getting my ticket ($ 20) I did not also understand where to begin-- and that is when I discovered the gallery guide awaiting individuals to join her cost-free assisted tour with one of the galleries in the gallery. I was all in. Doing a random assisted trip turned out a fantastic idea-- not just did I get an expert sight on a gallery I might have not otherwise visited; however it also took the choice where to begin with me. Excursions are provided everyday and many of them are free!

After the excursion, I went on to look into the existing temporary exhibit, which was dedicated to the glass musician Chihuly.

Royal Ontario Gallery, 100 Queen's Park, internet site

Arriving: City line 1 to Museum Station

3) Check Out the Bata Shoe Gallery

The Bata Shoe Gallery is an unique as well as unusual museum experience-- never ever had I assumed I would learn more about the evolution of footwear on a vacation to Canada! The museum has several collections checking out the historic advancement of footwear-- did you understand heels were originally just worn by men ?!-- in addition to standard footwear made use of by very first country people worldwide. I especially appreciated the temporary exhibition regarding standard colouring techniques!

Bata Footwear Museum,327 Bloor St W, website

Arriving: City line 1 or 2 to St George Station

4) Marvel at the design

I liked walking different areas of Toronto and also simply marvel at the design. The mix of industrial as well as property buildings was something I had actually never ever seen rather similar to this prior to. I would walk down a roadway of workplace towers made from glass and all of a sudden the following block would boast red-brick buildings loaded with shops, nail hair salons and also restaurants. I would certainly turn one edge and stand in the center of a long domestic road lined with two-story family houses with front porches and also small yards. It's difficult to pinpoint specifically which locations and also roadways where my favourite, so simply discover on your own!

5) Do a sunset cruise on the Tall Ship Kajama

When I checked out Toronto in September 2016, Toronto Island had been flooded and also my opportunities to see the famous horizon of the city from the water were close to absolutely no. Then I found out about the tall ship Kajama and also its sunset cruise ships.

The ship cruises the harbour of Toronto several times a day throughout the summer season (May to 1st October weekend). Cruises take 1.5 hours plus half an hour of boarding time and offer extraordinary views of the skyline, Toronto Island and also Toronto City Airport. I extremely recommend doing this cruise throughout sundown, as the sinking sun dips the city's metallic towers into pink and orange golden tones. it was breathtaking!

I even saw a little plane come down on the central landing strip of the City Airport terminal-- fairly a surreal experience! There is a totally accredited bar aboard the tall ship and food is acted as well, making this the best dinner task!

235 Queens Quay West, sunset cruise sails at 8 pm, site

Getting there: Tram to Queens Quay West at Harbourfront Centre

6) Join a free street art excursion down Graffiti Street

Road art in Toronto is an intriguing topic-- it's prohibited, as well as if your building obtains sprayed and also someone reports it, YOU have to spend for its removal. Therefore, there are a great deal of owners and companies that quit their walls to be splashed on for payments in addition to committed locations where graffitis are collected in one place.

Among those is Graffiti Street as well as I liked discovering it on a free led scenic tour! The trip lasts about 1.5 hrs and also consists of not just the street, but additionally great deals of other vibrant locations, art pieces as well as image options in the area around Queen Road West.

Scenic tour Guys FREE graffiti walking excursion, fulfill outside the Black Bull Tavern at 298 Queen St. W, daily at 3.30 pm (May-Sept) site

7) Look into the festival schedule at the Harbourfront Centre

Festivals are a fantastic means to submerse yourself in the neighborhood culture as well as at the Harbourfront Centre there is a different celebration going on nearly every weekend break during the summertime.

I was fortunate sufficient to encounter a vegan event arranged by the neighborhood Vegetarian Society. I reached taste vegan foods from all over the world, paid attention to inspiring talks about values as well as nutrition and also paid attention to tons of live songs while resting among residents in the grass.

Harbourfront Centre, 235 Queens Quay W, Celebration Schedule

Getting there: Tram to Queens Quay West at Harbourfront Centre

8) Catch a film at TIFF or at the TIFF Bell Lightbox cinema

The Toronto International Film Event is just one of the most significant target market events worldwide, indicating that unlike Cannes, the general public can participate in thousands of film screenings throughout the city throughout the festival.

I checked out the city in September, providing me the chance to see wonderful celebration movies as well as really feel the celebration buzz around me, however even if you go to outside the event duration, you can capture wonderful international arthouse films at the TIFF Bell Lightbox cinema in main Toronto!

Toronto International Movie Festival, annually in September, website

TIFF Bell Lightbox Movie Theater,350 King St W, internet site

Getting there: Metro to St Andrew Station, Cable Car to King St West at John St.

9) Go hiking at Scarborough Bluffs.

Scarborough Bluffs is an area in the east of Toronto's waterfronmt with high cliffs rising up to 90 metres above Lake Ontario. There are several parks on the Bluffs, yet if you head to just one of them, let it be Bluffers Park. This park is the just one with access to the lake and also a beach and naturally beautiful sights of the cliffs and also the water beyond.

Bluffers Park, Scarborough, website,.

Getting there: Tram to Eglinton GO Terminal and after that buses 86 as well as 175.

10) Check Out Toronto Islands by kayak or bike.

As a result of floodings I did not really most likely to Toronto Islands myself, yet I hear it's an amazing location to invest a day out far from the hectic roads of the city. Take the ferry across and afterwards determine whether you wish to walk, bike or kayak around the islands-- I know what I would certainly do!

Kayaks and canoes can be rented at the Boat House, a 10-minute walk from the ferry dock on Centre Island. It's best ahead early to get first choice of readily available boats!

Toronto Islands, site.

Getting there: Tram to Queens Quay Ferryboat Docks Terminal, Ferryboat: Centre Island Ferryboat.

11) Rent a stand-up paddle board at Woodbine Coastline.

Toronto has several beaches, however one of the most effective ones is Woodbine Coastline. A long beachfront with fine sand, lots of trees using color in the stretch of turf right behind it, lots of cafes and also restaurants nearby to leave the groups.

I rented out a stand-up paddle board from WSUP Toronto as well as paddled out onto Lake Ontario to obtain views of the city sky line distant. If you've never ever attempted stand-up paddling before, you can additionally reserve lessons, or sign up with a SUP yoga exercise class!

Woodbine Beach, website.

Getting there: Cable car line 501 to Queen St East at Wineva Ave.

Stand paddling at Woodbine Beach in Toronto.

Regional neighbourhoods in Toronto.

12) Check out the lanes of Kensington Market.

At Kensington Market near Spadina Opportunity, there is a whole lot to do and also see. Trendy coffee shops, bars as well as restaurants line every edge and also lane of the area. Design shops accomplish your wildest inside and stationary dreams. Juice bars are also greener by also marketing plants and also succulents. Numerous bars have cost-free live music and also you'll discover pop-ups in much of the streets or yards off the main roads. I can have surfed the lanes of the market forever!

Kensington Market, Augusta Ave & environments, site.

Arriving: Cable car stations around Spadina Ave, Dundas St W and also College St.

13) Trip a bicycle down Landsdowne Avenue.

I lived near Landsdowne Method in Toronto and liked absolutely nothing more than riding my bike down this street and exploring the neighbourhood. From Corso Italia to West Queen West, Landsdowne connects several of Toronto's coolest areas and also with every huge junction a brand-new experience starts! I found the roadway charming to cycle, due to the fact that website traffic was excusable, and there were lots of various other cyclists on the street.

My AirBnB featured a bike (more below), however there are lots of placs in Toronto wher you can hire bikes. There is likewise a local city bike scheme, called Bike Share Toronto.

14) Explore the Junction area.

The Joint is a neighbourhood in west Toronto near the crossway of Dundas St W as well as Dupont St. The major road of the neighbourhood is Dundas St W and there are several trendy cafe, restaurants as well as takeaways, indoor stores, artist & designer workshops, galleries as well as antique shops-- it's been called among Toronto's coolest areas!

Arriving: City to Dundas West Terminal, bus 40 quits along Dundas St W, internet site.

15) People view on public transport.

You obtained me-- this is not an area-- but the ideal way to uncover new areas and also move around the city like a neighborhood. The City in Toronto is extremely handy as well as links one of the most necessary city centre destinations intriguing for vacationers.

However, I enjoyed to getting on an arbitrary bus or cable car and also riding it together with the citizens. I would certainly people watch inside the carriage and also outside on the streets, left in areas that looked intriguing and uncovered some genuine treasures along the way!

Making use of public transport in Toronto is simple. On buses and trams you call for precise cash money to pay for your ticket and there are ticket makers at metro stations where you can use your card. The easiest choice is to acquire as well as top-up a PRESTO card as well as go cash-free. For transfers make certain to accumulate a transfer ticket from a dispenser near exits of metro stations.

16) Discover the historical Distillery Area.

As soon as the home of Gooderham & Worts Distillery, the Victorian industrial buildings of the Distillery Area are now flaunting a selection of restaurants, bars, art rooms and also style stores. After being stated a heritage website, the buildings were carefully brought back and occupied with cutting-edge innovation and also style. It's a real experience-- historic and futuristic at the same time-- as well as a have to see on your trip to Toronto!

The Distillery Area, internet site.

Getting there: Cable Car 504 to Distillery Loophole.

17) Get your hipster on in West Queen West.

If you are interested in different culture, you can not leave Toronto without spending time in West Queen West. This artistic neighbourhood in west Toronto is residence to vintage shops (more below), dining establishments, ranch shops, stylish bars and store hotels-- you might most likely invest a whole holiday here, just checking out whatever this location needs to provide!

West Queen St W, website.

Getting there: Cable car 301 and 504 quit along West Queen St W.

Restaurants, bars & cafes: Where to eat & drink in Toronto.

18) People watch at I Bargain Coffee.

I Offer Coffee is an unusual little coffee residence with mismatched furnishings in and out. I satisfied an idolizer of mine right here for an interview (not worried in any way) as well as thought it supplied just the ideal type of loosened up, yet productive atmosphere for our conversation.

The cafe sits at the edge of Kensington Market as well as it's a pleasure seeing people stopped by on their method to work or seeking a fast caffeine repair. They roast their own beans, so the coffee right here is very special!

I Bargain Coffee, 84 Nassau Road, Mon-Sat 8 am-- 7 pm, Opens 9 get on Sundays, internet site.

Arriving: Trams 310 or 510 to Spadina Ave at Nassau St South Side.

19) Invest a morning at Dark Horse Coffee Bar.

I invested almost 10 days in Toronto, which indicated I had time to create a little routine for myself as a freelance author as well as tourist. I enjoy mosting likely to coffeehouse in the morning to get some job done and after that discover repairs of the city in the afternoon.

Dark Horse Espresso Bar was a wonderful area to operate in-- and I was absolutely not the only one. There are a couple of little tables and also bar locations by the home windows, but I favored sitting at the large communal table between, surrounded by other freelancers functioning away on their laptop computers.

Top pointer: Make sure your laptop computer is totally billed as there are no sockets on/near the huge table.

Dark Horse Coffee Bar, 215 Spadina Ave, Mon-Fri 7 am to 7 pm, Opens 8 am Saturdays and also Sundays, site.

Getting there: Cable cars 310 or 510 to Spadina Ave at Sullivan St North Side.

20) Have brunch at Hello there Beloved.

Amongst the many restaurants and also coffee bar along Landsdowne Avenue, my 2 favourites were Starving Musician, which serve up cosy morning meal waffles as well as Hello there Beloved which is simply across the street. I had a fab salad bowl there and also appreciated being in the sun by the big home windows.

Hello Beloved, 827 Landsdowne Ave, Mon-Fri 9 am to 3 pm, Opens 10 am on Saturdays and also Sundays, Closed on Tuesdays site.

Starving Musician: the Landsdowne branch really shut, however there are 6 even more Starving Musician coffee shops around the city, web site.

Arriving: City line 2 to Landsdowne Station, Tram 47 to Lansdowne Ave at Wallace Ave.

21) Have lunch at The Excellent Neighour in the Junction.

The major reason that I ventured out into the Junction neighbourhood to begin with, was the reputation of the wonderful coffee bar and restaurants in this area. I was not disappointed and if I had to select my favorite, it would be The Great Neighbor Coffee Bar.

Found in a quiet property side road in the neighbourhood it appears like it's a local favourite amongst artists and families alike. I had a tasty sandwich for lunch as well as appreciated people seeing through the huge windows encountering towards the household streets. An unexpected treasure!

The Great Neighbor, 238 Annette St, Mon-Sun 7 am to 7 pm, internet site.

Arriving: City line 2 to High Park Station.

The Excellent Neighbour at The Joint in Toronto.

22) Preference the vegan pizza at Pizzaiola.

My journey to Toronto came equally as I got on the cusp of veganism-- I was incredibly interested as well as gotten every vegan meal I can get my hands on. My very first vegan pizza was a slice of Vittoria with the most effective tomato sauce ever, baked peppers, tomatoes and marinated zucchini. Pizzas can be bought by the slice as well as there are tons of weighty, vegan and also vegan alternatives offered. There are several Pizzaiola branches throughout Toronto, but I attempted the one in West Queen West.

Pizzaiola, 1172 Queen St W, Opens 11 am to 11 pm, open late Thursdays to Saturdays, website.

Arriving: Trams 301 or 501 to Queen St West at Abell St.

23) Supper at El Catrin.

The historical Distillery District has lots of good options for dinner as well as lunch, but I highly suggest booking a table at El Catrin. This Mexican-inspired dining establishment dishes up great cocktails and all your Mexican favourites-- tasty guacamole, tacos and burritos rupturing with flavour-- what more could you request? There is a warmed patio with lots of outside seats, so you can enjoy your meal as well as the horizon of the Distillery District at the same time.

El Catrin,18 Storage Tank Residence Lane, Open on a daily basis from 11.30 am (11 get on Sundays), web site.

Arriving: Tram 504 to Distillery Loop.

24) Treat yourself to an established menu dinner at Ruby Watchco.

Ruby Watchco is a very unique dining establishment-- primarily due to the fact that you don't get a great deal of options! They serve a seasonal fixed-price set food selection motivated by Canadian food, just collaborating with the freshest active ingredients they can get their hands on.

Vegan choices are available, but you require to call ahead to ensure they have everything they need to whip up a gleaming menu for you!

Ruby Watchco,730 Queen St E, Closed Monday & Sunday site.

Arriving: Various cable cars to Queen St East at Broadview Ave.

25) Consume all the poutine.

You can not leave Toronto without at least trying the Canadian nationwide dish, poutine. Poutine is chips (fries) with sauce and also cheese curds, but vegan choices (with veggie sauce and also tofy curds) is often offered as well! There are tons of legendary areas to choose poutine, but if you just want a quick fix, head to one of the two Poutini's Home of Poutine stores! Vegan poutine readily available.

Poutini's Residence of Poutine, 1112 Queen Street West as well as 617 King Street West, Mon-Fri open from midday, King St W branch closed on Mondays, website.

Getting there: King ST W-- Trams 304 or 504 to King St West at Rose City St; Queen St W-- Trams 301 or 501 to Queen St West at Abell St.

Buying in Toronto.

26) Purchase Asian keepsakes in Chinatown.

Just around the bend of Kensington Market exists Toronto's Chinatown. In the shops lining Spadina Method, I located several of my dearest keepsakes-- wicker indoor pieces, teas and all type of various other bric-a-brac for my level.

Getting there: Various cable car lines to Spadina Ave at Queen St W.

27) Vintage stores in West Queen West.

It doesn't come as a shock that the trendy area of West Queen West has a few of the best vintage stores in Toronto. My favorite stores were in between Dufferin St as well as Sorauren Avenue:.

Public Butter Vintage, 1290 Queen St W, web site.

Residence of Vintage, 1239 Queen St W, site.

In Classic We Depend On, 1580 Queen St W, site.

The Salvation Army, 1447 Queen St W, site.

Getting there: Cable car 301 and also 504 quit along West Queen St W.

28) Window-shop at Hit Salvage.

As mentioned over, the Joint neighbourhood is a heaven for all points interior decoration and also vintages. Wreck Salvage combines the two and supplies a diverse mix of classic interior pieces, upcycled furniture as well as antique gems for your residence.

I restricted myself to window shopping, however also that felt a lot more like walking through a gallery than via a store!

Wreck Salvage, 2880 Dundas St W, website.

Getting there: Metro to Dundas West Station, bus 40 stops along Dundas St W,.

Where to Stay in Toronto.

29) Stick with residents with AirBnB.

I invested most of my time in Toronto sticking with citizens using AirBnB. I had reserved a personal area near Corso Italia as well as shared a home with a French-Canadian/ Brazilian pair and their German shepherd pet-- what a worldwide mix! I enjoyed remaining in your area to discover life in Toronto and read about my hosts' preferred treasures in the area.

My area came with the choice to use one of the bikes my hosts provided, which was very useful for exploring the nearby trendy neighbourhoods of West Queen West and The Joint! There was a bus station close by which took me to Landsdowne metro station within a few mins-- excellent to get to the city centre and back!

30) Spend a night at Thompson Toronto.

There are some wonderful resorts in midtown Toronto, and if you just have a few days to see the main sites and also get a feel for the city, a resort could be a far better alternative than an AirBnB.

I can only advise Thompson Toronto, a fashionable store resort near the Bathhurst St as well as King St W joint. I had a lovely space from where I could see the CN Tower via the trees as well as went for morning meal at the American-style restaurant within the hotel. The main reason that I assume you must treat on your own to at the very least one evening at Thompson Toronto though is its rooftop.

You could not get a much better view than viewing the sun rise over the city's horizon from the infinity swimming pool at the hotel's rooftop balcony!

The post “30 Cool Things to do in Toronto, Canada” was first appeared on Watch me see

The IV Lounge - IV Therapy Toronto Drip Clinic

[arplis]

Arplis - News: 12 True Sex Stories You Have to Read to Believe

“WHEN HARRY MET SALLY” - COLUMBIA PICTURES   You’re out to brunch with your girlfriends, how long does it take for the conversation to turn to sex? Not long, amiright? It’s not just the ladies on “Sex and The City” who love to talk about sex—it’s most of us. We talk about it with our friends, our partners, and depending on how self-conscious you may feel, complete strangers. We talk about our true sex stories wether it be the amazing sex we’ve had, the comical, the sometimes strange and unusual, and even the not-so-great sex.  For many of us, we learned more about sex from our friends than we did from our parents or sex education class. It’s fun to share our sex stories—if it wasn’t, there wouldn’t be live storytelling shows, podcasts, books, TV shows, or movies. Fantasy has its place, but the stories that resonate the most with us are the true stories, those that actually happened. I AM & CO put the word out that we were looking for true sex stories and we received a very diverse response; stories from various sexual preferences, practices, and levels of sexual experience. All of these true sex stories are ones you have to read to believe. 12 True Sex Stories Guaranteed to Raise Eyebrows “Not Friends, No Benefit” Comedian Shalewa Sharpe, creator of  "So You Just Out Here?" I ran into my one-night-stand guy at the club. Now, some people might call that a “friend with benefits” but that term suggests that the two parties are friendly enough to schedule a benefit. This guy and I were not friends. Our benefits only happened if we ran into each other at the club. So, we made out for a minute, then he suggested we take this party to my car. This was how I ended up parked behind a grocery store, attempting to have sex with this guy in my 1988 Honda Prelude—a sports coupe, with bucket seats. Have you had sex in bucket seats? If so, a follow-up question: are you double jointed? The guy and I struggled for a bit, then his face fell. “Oh, this sucks,” he moaned. “It’s because my dick’s too small.” I had to console this guy while also keeping an eye out for the cops. If you find yourself in this predicament, don’t end up saying what I said: “Hey man, we’re in bucket seats—this ain’t gonna be easy.” A real mood-killer. We threw in the towel, I dropped him off back at the club and went home. Later that night, my roommate, who was the club’s doorperson, mentioned that she saw the guy with a weeping woman at the end of the night—they were walking in circles around the parking lot, then they hopped on his motorcycle and split. The next day, as I was furiously scrubbing and vacuuming my car, I found a driver’s license for a young woman wedged between the front passenger seat and the middle console. I guess it fell out of one-night-stand guy’s pocket during the, uh, festivities. I scratched out the ID’s info, punched a hole in it, and hung it on my rearview mirror as a cautionary tale. “It’s Part Of It” Jason, Columbus, Ohio We were both in college and had been dating for a while when she decided to take it to the next level. “Tie me up,” she demanded. “Okay, um, I’m going to tie you up now,” I said and went to get some scarves that were conveniently strewn about and set to work. “No!” “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! I thought that…” and I began to loosen the bonds.  “No, it’s part of what makes it so hot.” “Oh, right,” I said and went back to doing Boy Scout knots such as the square knot and the sheepshank. I wondered if I should go with the trucker’s hitch? Nah. Too much.  “I’m going to f*ck you now,” I said getting into it. “Let me go!” I immediately stop what I’m doing. “Oh my God, I am an idiot. I am so sorry. I didn’t understand. You see, when you said you wanted, what I thought was, but in reality, I see… Oh no, I’m so sorry.” I quickly start to untie all the knots.  “No, it’s part of it.”  “What Goes Around, Comes Around” Ashley, Raleigh, North Carolina I paid my boyfriend for sex the first summer we were together…11 years later, he’s paying me for sex. “The Hook-Up Room”  Comedian Anita Flores, host of I'm Listening: A Frasier Podcast with Anita Flores. I’m at my first high- school party, and it’s not going well. Between my social anxiety and the fact that I only know the host, all I can think about is how I’m going to escape. I can’t actually leave, or else I’ll seem “uncool.” Fortunately, I come up with the next best solution. After making some light small talk with the host (Cassie) about her impressive selection of snacks, I ask, “Is there anywhere I can take a nap?” At the time, this seemed like a normal way to still be at the party without having to speak to anyone. I can’t say that Cassie agreed. After a long pause, she replied, “Uh, I guess in my attic.” I gleefully head to the attic. All the lights are off and it’s strangely warm, but it beats talking to people. I feel around and discover a futon I can pretend to sleep on. There I am lying down when something round and muscular attacks my face. It’s a butt, and it's smothering me! Ever want to suffocate someone, but don’t have a pillow? Just wear thick, non-breathable polyester pants. I hear a low voice. It’s a boy butt. He hears my muffled cries, gets up and exclaims, “Whoa, sorry dude!”  Now there’s giggling. He’s with a girl. Suddenly, I hear what sounds like a lot of teens slurping soup. There are more people in this room than I realized. Cassie sent me to take a nap in “the hook-up room!” Picture “Eyes Wide Shut: The Early Years.” Before the masks, there were braces. By this time, the boy butt and his lady friend have taken the futon from me. I'm standing there feeling left out because no one has asked me to join in. I can’t run away, otherwise, everyone will think I’m a prude! So, I find an empty loveseat, plop down, and close my eyes. Because there’s nothing cooler than ignoring sex. I’ll make sure to tell my future teen daughter that, too.  “There Are Rules” Michael, Portland, Oregon I was sessioning with a dominatrix named Vixen when her friend Wendy came over. Vixen blindfolded me and put me in the corner, which I was more than okay with. The minute Vixen’s back was turned, I took off the blindfold, even though I knew (and hoped,) I’d be punished. Vixen took out a strap on from her toy-cupboard and proceeded to f*ck Wendy with it. It was quite a show and later,  I was punished severely for watching—it was well worth the tribute that I paid Vixen. “Don’t Stop Under Any Circumstances!” Carrie, Chicago, Illinois My boyfriend and I were having sex one night on my old as hell bed. He was an ex-professional football player and I’m a big girl, so it shouldn’t have been surprising that right when things were getting super intense, the bed broke. He stopped what he was doing, so I yelled, “Don’t stop! I’m so close!” Without moving from the now broken bed, we get back at it and this time we don’t stop until we both cum. If there had been an earthquake or a tornado, I would have made him keep going then, too. “Side Effects Can Be Embarrassing” Krysta, Orlando, Florida  I've never been really big into taking birth control, but a coworker of mine mentioned that she was on a pill where she only had a period every three months... I wanted in on that! So, I went to my doctor and got on birth control. I started dating this new guy, who was literally the sexiest human-created. Around him, I tried to be Miss Perfection. Meanwhile, I'm on these new birth control pills and the doctor forgot to mention that they had lactose in them. I'm extremely lactose intolerant, even the smallest bit gives me major gas.  The first time the perfect guy and I had sex was a disaster. Every thrust he made inside of me made me pass gas. It was so embarrassing. We literally had to stop and go to Walgreens to get me some type of gas pills because he and I both couldn't take the noise, let alone the smell.  Let's just say, I stopped taking those pills immediately.  “Sex On The Deserted Beach” Beverly, New York City My partner and I were having a romantic vacation for my birthday in Newport, Rhode Island, and decided to spice things up by making love on a (deserted) beach in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, this beach was not quite as deserted or private as we had initially anticipated. All of a sudden we saw flashes of bright light, immediately stopped, and became alarmed.  A police officer arrived, trying to hold back a grin, and asked us if we'd seen some "kids swimming" after hours. We said no, he left, and we quickly packed up our things to make a quick exit. We drove home laughing not quite knowing what to make of the experience, but it certainly was a bonding one. It's definitely an evening and birthday I won't soon forget. “Don’t Disturb Grandpa” Spencer, Phoenix I hooked-up once with this guy who was taking care of his grandpa. It was around 10:00 p.m. by the time I got to his house. Whispering, he asked me to follow him and to not make any noise, his grandpa was watching TV in the living room. The guy sneaked me into a bedroom, but I guess that wasn’t soundproof enough, so we went into the closet and had very cramped and uncomfortable sex in there. I don’t think his grandpa had any idea about what was going on. “Male High Club” Reynaldo, San Diego, California I was taking a night flight home from Hawaii, as I was sitting down, I turned to see a guy who was so handsome I was stunned. Like a lot of us, he wore shorts and Aloha shirts, but he was well-built and looked more like he’d be a lead on one of those Hawaii detective shows. There was an empty seat near me on the aisle, and the guy asked if he could sit there to stretch out his legs. Other than nodding yes, we didn’t talk. The man grazed my knee with his leg, and all the hairs on my leg stood on end. And he didn’t pull away right away, just gradually. He got up to get a blanket from the overhead compartment which he placed over his legs. With no talking at all, he made the slightest gesture to offer me some of the blanket. Before you know it, the blanket was spread over both our legs. Then, our hands somehow started to find each other. And for a long time on the flight, that was it…just our hands grasping together, coming loose, rejoining, stroking fingers. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was rock hard. And gradually, very gradually, all without talking and with this stud of a guy who I did not know at all, our hands gradually started to stroke each other’s thighs, mirroring each other.  And eventually, very discreetly to not get attention or show movement above the blanket, we each found our erections extending out through the bottom of our shorts, and we grabbed each other. Eventually, some napkins or handkerchiefs were brought below, and without making any sound, we both came, and it was pretty simultaneous.  “Kung Fu Fighting” Carol Gee, Author, “Random Notes ( About Life. "Stuff"And Finally Learning To Exhale)” A romantic, I fantasized about what it would be like to have sex on satin sheets. My fantasy materialized when my husband and I, two young Air Force sergeants returning from living in the Far East, stopped to visit another Air Force friend and his lady in San Francisco. Invited to spend the night, the lady made the guest room bed up with a brand new pair of red satin sheets. How did she know my fantasy? I couldn’t wait to get my husband in bed to enjoy sex so good that the neighbors in the apartment next door would have needed a cigarette.  I took a shower, smoothed on scented body lotion and got into bed. My husband was already in it waiting for me. On those satin sheets, our lovemaking suddenly morphed into Kung Fu fighting. Taking me into his arms I accidentally poked him in the ribs. Oof! Climbing on top of him I kneed in the thigh. Ouch! Attempting to kiss him I missed his mouth and ended up rubbing noses with him. Then his pillow slid off the bed, mine quickly followed. Instead of holding onto him, I held tightly to the bedsheets trying not to slide off, taking him with me. Not only was the whole thing a disaster, but we also got very little sleep that night for trying to stay in the middle of the bed. Frankly, I'm glad those sheets weren’t mine as they would most likely have ended up as pretty red curtains.  “Girl/Girl Love Lesson” Sensual Massage Therapist, Jazmin Light The streets of Zurich were empty as I headed toward their place. The gentleman on the phone had asked me if I would "be" with his girlfriend—while he watched. He said she wanted a woman to show him "what women like." The World Cup soccer games were on, and that night, Switzerland was playing. The air bristled with excitement. All anyone talked about was "Fussball." Everyone's windows were wide open due to the summer heat.  A classy-looking man in his mid-fifties opened the door to a modern loft apartment. Surprised, I wondered, “Shouldn't he know what women like by now?” Behind him, pouring champagne at the high-top table, stood Nadia, perhaps thirty years his junior. In her red La Perla lingerie and matching stilettos. She handed me a glass and kissed me on the mouth. We made a toast. I took a sip, then lifted Nadia's silky blonde hair and kissed her neck. I let my lips and teeth linger, then gave her a soft bite. She gasped. Suddenly, a roar of voices sailed in through our window and engulfed us. "YAAAAAY!!!” The cheering came from next door, from above us, below us, and from outside. “GOAL!” We laughed as the ruckus died down. I stroked Nadia's hair, neck, and torso. "There are endless ways to please a woman, Manfred," I said, twirling my fingers on her lacy bra cups. Manfred plopped down on the bed and stared at us, his mouth open.  I unsnapped her bra, returning his gaze. "There's much more to women then nipples and—" I slid my hand to her panties, "pearls." Nadia inhaled sharply. "So slow down, savor, discover, and—play!" Nadia groaned, Manfred grinned. New shrieks and cheers exploded throughout the neighborhood. *** When you share a sex story, it can help you to connect with other people, learn about yourself and others, and it can inspire you to try new things. As humans, we’re always growing and that includes our sexuality.  Sex is part of the human experience and it’s always fun to hear someone else’s stories of incredible sex, confusing sex, or way-out-there sex. #Sex #Relationships

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/12-true-sex-stories-you-have-to-read-to-believe