#this is obscenely long but i needed to get it out of my system lol

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

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Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[apoptoses]

Just when I thought I had my Top 5 @apoptoses smut scenes SET IN STONE (a solid top 5 at least), you post the second chapter of Come Get Your Knife and turn my whole world upside down!!! Where to even BEGIN here jfccc

1. That blowjob scene at the beginning, so stupid hot and we were like 5 paragraphs in lmao insane 😭and then their conversation right after that, with Armand clinging to Daniel’s tigh and then going to the bathroom to spit out his cum without Daniel knowing. Armand would 100% swallow and then not tell Daniel it can’t actually stay in his system for long lmfao I love him sm

2. Daniel putting a hand on Armand’s exposed waist in the kitchen and Armand lowkey losing his mind over it yes GOOD

3. THE PLAY WRESTLING ON THE COUCH MY BELOVED. they totally still do this at home btw it’s just way more competitive now that Daniel actually has a shot.

4. Armand wearing Daniel’s hoodie and then trying to pass it off as an accident when Daniel noticed 🥹

5. “There were all sorts of ways Armand adored seeing him- half awake and grumbling in the evening, tipsy and hanging off his arm. Bright eyed and enthusiastic about the film they’d just seen. But Armand thought this was one of them that he loved best. Daniel loose limbed and eager to get close to him, with that hint of mischief in his eye.” GIVE HER THE PULITZER 👏 😤 And then Daniel blowing smoke into Armand’s mouth!! 🥵 still losing my mind over it.

6. the fingering bit aka the star of the fucking show. I had to pause like three times while reading it lol I didn’t want it to end and needed to drag it out for as long as possible 🥹 idk if we’ve talked about this before but like... Daniel fingering Armand is one of those things I consider 100% canon lmao. I mean it makes perfect sense ("every inch of his body" etc) and of course Daniel felt curious enough to try it and of course Armand let him. so if a fic includes a fingering bit I have to read it lmao regardless of the circumstances/plot/setting idc I’m giving it a go. But some of the ones I’ve read have been like... unnecessarily aggressive? still hot, don’t get me wrong, but they were basically about Daniel wanting to be as rough as possible because Armand didn’t feel much anyway/could take it and Daniel got off on it. just aggressive in ways I don’t think it ever was between them during their most intimate moments. Daniel is a passionate lover yes but he’s a gentle king first and foremost, and he cares so much about Armand’s pleasure, and you captured that so perfectly. Armand coating Daniel’s fingers with his blood please  🥵 🥵  

I’ll stop now before I get carried away but know that I’m still very much obsessed!!! xoxo DA

DA I've missed you!!

Lord I have so many obscene thoughts on Armand and Daniel's come haha Like absolutely he would swallow despite what the vampire body can or cannot consume. Absolutely he would let Daniel come inside him and walk home to his hiding place and go to sleep with that in him, because that part of his body is useless now! It's just a receptacle for Daniel's messes and he's a little freak who would want to keep part of Daniel inside him in more ways than one (which I discuss in an upcoming wip)

haha I forgot I had that in there but that's a domestic thing I think about all the time with them. Like, little touches that make them both insane but especially when Armand is the receiver of those touches. It's intimacy he's never had before!

YES like even if Daniel doesn't 100% equal him in strength after he's turned Armand would be so overwhelmed and caught off guard that Daniel would win just by sheer virtue of getting him worked up over having his wrists pinned (I might also have this in a wip oops)

Daniel, deep down, knows it was no accident 🥹

🥹🥹🥹 listen Armand loves when Daniel is being a little shit, he's beseeching and demanding and that's why he liked him in the first place! He's found the man who is the same flavor of randy pain in the ass as him 🥹

HELLO I love a gentle overwhelming fingering for Armand and I think it was you who gave me the idea of Daniel teaching Armand dirty talk? So like I wrote that and you'll be happy to know that specific act occurs in there too. But YEAH I think Armand can feel a lot if he lets himself and gentleness gets him out of his mind better than roughness, so just Daniel's long fingers are perfect for him because like- that's ALL about him, you know? Being fucked is mutual pleasure, getting touched with hands/someone's mouth is more hedonistic, and he deserves hedonism ♥

Hey, because I love you, here's a fingering preview treat for you (this will go up for kink week for impact play day)

“What would you call this part of you?” Daniel asks.

He’s tracing over his entrance again with a slick finger, maddening slow circles. He presses firmly like he might slip his finger inside and then pulls it away and starts the whole process over again.

Armand’s brain feels like the eggs he makes Daniel for breakfast, a sloppy mess that’s liable to run out his ears and stain the blanket with the way Daniel has taken him apart. He’s so thirsty his veins seem to have constricted with their demand for blood. Everything in him feels drawn too tight.

“I only know the clinical term,” Armand finally manages to admit.

Daniel’s finger slips inside him in one slick motion. It’s humiliating how Armand’s body doesn’t even resist it. Even the most dead, useless parts of him are desperate for sensation.

Or maybe just desperate for Daniel. Armand has the delirious thought that if this part of him has no purpose then Daniel could stay inside him forever, could live in his body and become part of him.

“You’re tight. Sometimes I wonder if that’s because you’re so clenched up all the time or if it’s just because you’re dead, and I’m the only person who uses this part of you,” Daniel says absently, like he’s saying these things to himself. As if Armand isn’t even in the room, he’s just a toy to be played with and not acknowledged. “I’d ask if you like having something in your hole but then the way you keep lifting your hips up like a slut answers that question for me, doesn’t it?”

“Daniel-“

The word comes out in a ragged rush of breath. Armand’s been called names before. Words meant to humiliate, to shame. But coming from Daniel it’s different. It sounds loving, like Daniel has stared down into his soul and seen him for the needy thing he is and adores him for it. Daniel, whose hand keeps stroking his lower back as his finger sinks in deeper, deeper. Armand feels the bumps of his knuckles, the stretch as his finger grows wider closer to his palm. And then it’s all the way in, rubbing at his insides while he struggles for air.

Daniel is always good at this. He’s always got this gentle way with his hands, a light touch that leaves Armand aching for more. Immortal flesh is sensitive- Armand has never told him that, he’s just picked it up on his own. And so he knows exactly how to rub teasing circles into his insides. How to drag his finger in and out so slow Armand thinks he’s about to sob with it. It’s only his index finger and that’s all it takes to have him come undone.

His finger presses all the way in, curls at just the right angle to make Armand make a choked off sound; something halfway between a moan and repeating Daniel’s name. Armand lifts his hips. Shameless, he spreads his thighs and arches his back in his silent demand for more.

“Hm? Is there something you need?” Daniel asks. 

xoxo ♥

[2af-afterdark]

What do u think about the kinks of the noble devils? Some of them are normal but some of them are.. out there to say the least lmao (Leraye I'm looking at u..)

Oh gods. Another long one. Buckle up everyone! *comes with definitions so everyone is on the same page here

Satan

Spanking is... spanking.

It's baby's first bdsm kink. A bit of light spanking feels like it's becoming more mainstream over time (not bdsm exclusive).

Honestly? I expect Satan to have bolder kinks. He's a sadist, so there is waaaay more he could do.

Mammon

Pygophilia is a sexual attraction to butts.

I didn't even know this was a kink, per se. Attraction to butts is so commonplace that I didn't think it was a paraphilia.

He's living his best life though. Go him!

Beelzebub

Olfactophilia is a paraphilia characterized by sexual arousal caused by smells and odors emanating from the body.

Can relate. I have a mild one. Your partner's natural smell can be very arousing.

Leviathan

Breath control is the intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for the purposes of sexual arousal.

SWEET SUBBY BOY HAS A HARD KINK. ONE OF THE HARDEST KINKS.

Seriously, I love him and hoe happy he looks when he's getting choked. And! And! He wants it done properly! Harder! Fuck me!

Seriously, this is a very risky kink and I adore him for living for it.

Sitri

Cardiophilia is an erotic fixation on the human heart/cardiovascular system.

He wants to hear the moment his victim's heart stops beating and that's sexy in an absolutely terrifying way.

Low-key imagine he lies his head against his partner's chest as he fingers/jerks them off just to enjoy their errotic erratic heartbeat.

Leraye

Keraunophilia is an abnormal attraction of lightning or thunder, which can lead to arousal from thunder and lightning

The poor man is getting all the side glances on this blog. Lol

It was stated he thinks his gun sounds like thunder, so I understand his position (since he's a devil of wrath)

Still an... interesting kink. Not sure how he gets that in the bedroom? Does he use a sound machine or something?

Astaroth

Narratophilia is a sexual fetish in which words and stories are sexually arousing, usually by the telling of dirty and obscene words or stories to a partner.

Me too, fam. I have a violent voice kink so I understand him. Hearing that sexy voice tell you dirty stories? Even better!

Paimon

Haematophilia is a sexual fetish for blood

I am 0% surprised. It's probably the most common kink in Gehenna.

Does that make Paimon a basic bitch? 🤔

I mean, bloody nose panels in manga are hot, so I kind of get it in a way.

Zagan

Kinesophilia is a paraphilia where the sexual arousal hinges around human movement and exercise.

Zagan watches TikTok exercise thirst traps, confirmed. That, or parkour is his version of porn. Or is he the kind of man who works out then needs to fuck immediately afterward?

As a certified couch potato, I apologize to Zagan.

Dantalian

Autassassinophilia is a paraphilia where a person becomes sexually aroused by fantasizing their own death by the hands of another.

I have to wonder how violent these fantasies get, because... does he just want to die or does he want to die violently? Does he have a favorite fantasy? DOES HE ACTUALLY WANT TO DIE TO THE ANGELS????

He seems to be more into the fantasy than the real thing given how he keeps living.

Phenix

Morphophilia is characterized by a sexual interest in another who has greatly varying body proportions to oneself.

Size difference kink or into chub as a kink? Both? Both.

Morax

Stigmatophilia is a type of sexual attraction to piercings and tattoos.

I mean, piercings and tattoos can be hot. Not my kink, personally, but I get it.

Personally I think he should be into bandaids and antiseptic more...

Marbas

Merinthophilia is a sexual fetish in which one is sexually aroused by being tied up with rope or similar material.

Aroused 24/7 given he's always tied up.

I wouldn't mind putting some pretty ropes on a guy that buff. Especially given my headcanon that he's a secret gentle giant to MC.

Barbatos

Heliophilia is an attraction to the sun.

Is there a sun in hell? What sun is he looking at? Do you think he's more into the light or the heat?

Honestly, I don't get this one. You do you, boo, but I do not understand.

Foras

Scopophilia is an aesthetic pleasure derived from looking.

Fancy name for a voyeur. My fictional feelings and my irl feelings on this are different.

Irl, I'm cool if it's consensual. It can be hot to play like you're hiding as you watch someone or to "catch" someone watching you. If it's no consensual, gross.

Fantasy? FUCKING HOT! Go off! Enjoy your show!

It also has great angst potential.

High-key think Foras pines after Leviathan

Bimet

Timophilia is a primary arousal from gold or wealth.

0% surprised. Man would probably fuck a pile of money if he could.

Findom? Findom!

Bael

Olfactophilia is a paraphilia characterized by sexual arousal caused by smells and odors emanating from the body.

See Beelzebub.

Is this kink actually his or is it another aspect of himself that he controls in order to become more like Beelzebub?

Stolas

Pecattiphilia is a fetish where individuals experience sexual arousal from breaking religious rules or committing sins.

Does this mean he's turned on by breaking traditional rules or devil rules? If it's devil rules, does that mean angels turn him on?

What is sin to a devil???

Amon

Harmatophilia is the fetish or preference for people who break rules or commit mistakes.

Man sees whiteout on a page and gets a boner. Lol

Seriously though, what rules are people breaking? And what is it with Avisos and getting turned on by rule breaking?

Minhyeok

Melcryptovestimentaphilia is the desire or fondness for women`s black undergarments or the desire to steal panties.

Panty pervert.

You basic ass bitch. You absolute freak. You wonderful, beautiful pervert.

It's such a common kink, but I love him for it. It fits the childhood friend trope.

Gabriel

Hierophilia is a fetish for religious or sacred objects, places, and people.

We already knew he wanted to fuck God. He's just wearing his heart on his sleeve.

I have... worse thoughts of what he's doing, but that's sacrilegious.

I think anyone with religious ✨️trauma✨️ can attest to this kink. Trauma tends to get errotic at some point for a few of us...

Eligos

Diaphanophilia is a sexual fondness for viewing nudity through diaphanous fabrics such as veils, underwear, baby dolls, etc.

Hard same. I love wearing that stuff and seeing others wear it. It's sexy as fuck.

It's such a basic kink but so powerful. I can think of sooooo many ways to play with it~

[the-firebird69]

Trump attacks judge and clerk again in ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ post: Live | The Independent

this man trump is aggrevating me. he is not your helper does not holdt he line here nor code. is not a loyal s in any way. is a blaspheme and loser. thankfully.

i have ordered him to the board room today to fire him. and use fuel yes like any sophmore or other would lol. and more. and to relive him of his duties and stocks. and use the confinement as a threat to take his robots to shiut him down and shut him up and use as false flag on any shortly.

i also am ordering the removal of hardware whilst he sits annoying our top brass in the meeting and tries to attack and we repel and search it down to city areas and vaporize him.

on top once searched we seek out teh gold and silver and hopspitals, to take the intel and other there devistate that system of his.

further i have ordered the take over of chrysler and we shall proceed and use the meetings as cover he thinks it is macs and or psuedo macs. and we use the method described yesterday take it and push them out hard. the guys say we shall

i am ordering ours to find teams for each city area that are good with money he has tons and we need it and to help ours it is in the top ten for priorities since yu cannot get a thing in this rhealm wihtout moeny and trump sat draining and keepin the poor poor and worse. big teams who call for armies and today and blitz and today and in all financial ctners and we take over the banks and we are ordering branches out and in support of all housing city areas and more and to assist andconcide with infiltration methods. Hera says too

we will focus on trump and his due to thier holding these items in order to turn the canon on us.

Zues Hera

we shall and are but now we grow it he is ridiculous and obscene. and a smudge on the face. we need him out. i have things to add

-we put restraining orders on him non stop if removed we re install them. tons will help too. and start here. we do it now well tommorrow....can do it with the police we shall.

-we also add them to the americas most wanted and all trulmps characters even in dc. tons of them resemble him. and are other ppl he uses the characters.

-we arrest him for every criime he committed and is. and point out the flaws in his character non stop. h e is an ass pays for yesterday too.

-we pull the file on him dig up dirt expose it now. tons ofi t. and sling it and fals flag works nobody cares much.

-we are takng him down and hit him we bring in protecitn for our son and now. tons of it. so do the psuedo empire empire and misc and morlock minority and forgeiners and even bja and others. tons will now he is an ass and a jerks. a mean idiot too ruins tons of stuff shores us uup.

we pull his stuff out of store and use it and send it sell it. and for us mostly. ton of his stuff. he wihters in the parks and we knock him out. take it draw them in. pulll i tout of storage clear nevada too and the wiine vineyards. push himo ut fully. too mlich time on tis one ahole we need him out now.

we see their attitude with the hammers ad their talk we take them make it hard. use it. too.

Thor Freya

thank you wessee it

mac

we dont get it your threatened you win no i see it. we do the opsppsoti and dont tell

trump

ahhahaha ok fat head

Hera Zues i apply now to remove my name from his family. get permission but do so now. let it sit ok and we shall revive it.

i agree this has gone on long enough and from both families. they used you too the paris family. sometimes goodbye is anohter chance and to trump meaning macs the analogy we do this now

Bitol and Goddess Wife

andw eh ear it post now and wil

Thor Freya

Olympus

need htis out

Nuada Arrianna

[peachesnbasil]

having a moment of Big Love for drang and sturm and twitter will not let me properly rant and i have so many feelings so i need to let it out here because. wow i love them SO MUCH. this is extremely long and sorta disjointed but it’s here.

i’ve always been a sucker for ‘complementary flaws’-type dynamics and they fit into that like a glove, and the more we learn about them the more i love the ways they move together like. here are two kids. one’s an only child from a rich family who was unloved by all but one person who died when he was still young. the other is the eldest of six (!) children in a family with nothing but so much love. by the time we meet them they’re adults- one is an obnoxious, affectionate attention hog and the other is an aloof, hostile tsundere who claims she only cares about her job. and esp with their recent event, mapping out how those children became those adults is just. excellent. sturm is a pretty honest person. she hates expressing her emotions, but she’s no liar. she won’t admit to caring but she cares deeply, and she holds herself to her own moral standard. drang is a liar. his whole behavior is a façade. he acts stupid because he knows it lowers your guard. he acts sweet because it makes you think you can trust him. he’s smart and cunning and his morals are malleable. he’s always hiding, even his design speaks to this- while most erunes have at least their backs out, drang is so covered only part of his face and one hand are exposed. all the best façades have an element of truth, of course, and we know drang cares as well. he’s unreadable to most characters, but as the mc we see more of him, and we know he cares. he gives ferry back her name even though he decides not to tell her about their connection. and there’s such an old hurt there- as a child, in his fates, he speaks to ferry like an imaginary friend, promising to come find her, to take her sister back to her. but of course that never happened, because the sister in question passed away, and drang was alone with parents who did not love him. in one of his bday dialogues, he casually mentions that his grandmother was the only person to even acknowledge his bday, and we see him in his fates crying because his father ignores him and his mother only yells at him. there’s no reason offered for this; he was just a lonely and miserable child. 

sturm was loved, and she loved her family dearly. her father worked as a mercenary and was often away from home, but he would come back and ruffle her hair and teach her swordplay. her mother was fragile after the birth of her last child, but sturm was praised for always helping with her siblings. when her father died, and her mother soon after, sturm remembers a time of heavy grief. but she was with her siblings, and she was loved, and it gave her the strength to do what she had to do. she began mercenary work early, and she took on whatever jobs she could find. we know this didn’t always end well for her. we know there are people who hate her, and call her a monster, and are even willing to retaliate against her, like the draph in her fate eps. and she just accepts this! it comes with the job. she’s not expecting anything else. in her own bday message she notes that she’s surprised her association with you has lasted so long, and when she is confronted in her fate eps she doesn’t seem to think that drang would believe her side of the story, even though by then he’s already been following her like a puppy. sturm doesn’t trust easily and she doesn’t expect others to trust her. she’s been a mercenary long enough to know vulnerability can be exploited. but her siblings still write to her, and she can support them, and so she bears it all. 

drang? drang ends up running away from home. he hides himself, he cuts his ties to everyone and everything, because in his head that’s how he protects himself. he wasn’t good enough to be loved so he will not put himself in the position to be loved. he becomes bitter and cynical and still lonely, because he thinks in this way at least he can be free. but he isn’t, and sturm is the ONLY person who can break him of this, because she is everything he isn’t. 

and they meet, for the first time, on opposite sides of a battlefield, because we’re here for the high drama. sturm is doing a job, drang is just doing whatever, floating and aimless. they clash, and drang thinks he can talk down to sturm about her job, about how she’s just here for the money, or else she’s only doing this to support someone, and isn’t that just a burden. and she just won’t take the bait! she doesn’t care! because she knows better. 

her family isn’t a burden. her love for them is not a burden. it’s a strength, and it gives her the conviction to take him down when no one else could. ‘cutting ties with others won’t make you free,’ and it doesn’t matter how powerful he is, this self-taught genius mage, she flattens him! she doesn’t even know how accurately she gets him, because she’s too busy doing her job, but she gets him right in the heart. she’s the proof of everything he isn’t. in some families, children are loved, and she’s the proof. for all her harshness, sturm is still proof of love.

and drang is so taken with her. ‘damn she’s cool’ when she beats him to the ground. follows her back to the mercenary guild. changes his name to match hers and devotes himself, all the way to the present, to being her partner. he builds his fighting style entirely around hers. as much as he teases her, as much as she attacks him, he is always by her side. ‘you’re everything to me now, sturm’ and he MEANS IT. he’s always praising her, always cheering for her, always wanting to talk about her. when he visits his grandmother’s grave, he tells her about sturm. he describes being with her as ‘liberating’- and for him, she really was. he is free now, he has ties now. there is someone he loves, now.

sturm is allergic to expressing emotion, but she expects him by her side now. he has become a comfort, as much as he is still an annoyance. he believes her. he knows her, because he tries to, unlike everyone else who is put off by her harshness. he notices the sparkle in her eyes when she gets her letters, even though he doesn’t press her about it. when she’s worried, he knows, even when she can’t express what’s wrong. and he follows her everywhere. she wants to trash their own reputation? sure, he’s game. and that means more to sturm, who is loved but was alone for a long time, than she can express. she tells him he doesn’t need to be introduced to her family, because she writes about him in her letters home. 

as long as they are together, they’re okay. a laughing liar and a grumpy hard worker. they just keep building people they care about- they love orchid so much, and they try their best to help apollo, and slowly they become friends with you and your crew, too. one’s strengths match the other’s weakness, in battle and in life. there’s so much trust and love there, and it’s a dynamic that just makes me so happy.

in conclusion i don’t really know how to end this except by saying i love them and i’d like them to hold hands and also hug. they deserve it.

[free-pancakes]

Kiss the Drummer

Summary: a LeviHan Jazz!AU

Levi, a talented trumpet player famous in the jazz clubs of New York, is struggling with his instrument and feels burnt out—he wonders if he chose the right path in life.

The bassist of his quintet, an old friend named Erwin, invites a quirky new drummer to play with them, who brings a new spark into Levi’s life.

Notes:  Drum "chops” describe a drummer's technical ability, including a large vocabulary of licks, and how freely they express themselves on the instrument. BPM = beats per minute Songs: Giant Steps - John Coltrane

sorry this AU fic is pure self-indulgence and has become much longer than originally intended lol

crossposted to AO3

CHAPTER 1

He licked his lips and pushed them readily against the smooth, silver mouthpiece, ready to hit the first note of the song, Giant Steps. He suppressed his desire to grumble at yet another fast swing tune.

He stared out into the audience, peering at the people sitting around the tables of the club. Their faces were slightly lit from the reflection of the stage lights, wearing expressions of both excitement and anticipation. “Just another night of the same old thing,” Levi thought to himself, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh, one only he could hear. His stance conveyed confidence, but his eyes spelled apathy.

He heard snaps on 2 and 4 marking their starting tempo at 289 bpm and Levi quickly puffed warm air into his trumpet.

“One… two… one two three four—“

——

Levi wiped down his trumpet, carefully cleaning the beautiful brass after yet another great performance. He gently placed it in his case, and looked up at himself in the dressing room mirror. He stared blankly at his reflection, noting the tinge of purple beneath his eyes—he knew his body was aching for sleep. It had been restless upon restless night for the past year or so, and he wasn’t completely sure why. He looked down at his trumpet case with both affection and disdain. Maybe... he just wasn’t meant to do this for this long.

He didn’t hate playing, but the truth was, he had simply been good at it all of his life. Quite gifted at it, one would say, and thus he passively let it lead him to success. It was just what it was. He was good at jazz, he was good at trumpet. Naturally he studied it at a top university for jazz performance and joined this famous quintet, and naturally he worked hard to improve his skills. But as any routine would, practice and rehearsals became monotonous, grunt work.

While lost in thought, his eyes trailed over to his small, neat pile of math textbooks at the edge of the dresser.

If anything, he did enjoy jazz theory. It was just math, anyway—circle of fifths, cadence patterns, fancy scales—it all just added up and broke down for any message or feeling you wanted to convey with a melody for your solo, and those tools were simply available in your brain to make it happen—tools to play some straight dirty solos that make you smirk satisfactorily when listening. To Levi, it just made sense, to a lot of other people, he was called “genius”. But after years and years of this, he was burning out and he was quite aware of that. He felt like he was losing his edge, and he was just a machine clunking out music most nights of the week. Again he thought, maybe he just wasn’t meant to do this forever. But what else would pay the bills?

Shaking his head, he let his jumbled thoughts fall away momentarily. He picked up a textbook, and leafed through the pages. He clicked open a ballpoint pen and began adding to his lesson plan for one of his students, a young girl named Sasha. Honestly, she seemed utterly hopeless with math at times, but he was determined to help her at least pass her algebra class. Her little friend Connie on the other hand…well that’s a story for another day, he thought, and chuckled softly to himself. If anything, he did enjoy his side job as a math tutor for the local school system. He didn’t really need the extra pocket money, but something compelled him to keep up with it.

As he jotted down notes, muffled noise of cheering and commotion rocked against the door. Tonight’s gig was Nile’s last performance with them, as he was moving out to the west coast to play with another group and accept a teaching position somewhere out there. Levi didn’t care much for his drumming or his personality for that matter, so he wasn’t particularly sad to see him go, nor was he keen on joining the celebration out in the bar. He yawned and continued finish up writing his lesson plan, as he knew he’d probably have to drive his drunk colleagues home.

——

“Levi! I’m gonna miss you buddy!” Nile exclaimed as he aggressively ruffled Levi’s hair, causing the cowlick he spent every morning trying to gel down to stick straight up embarrassingly at the top of his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… good luck Nile.” He shoved him and Mike into a cab, as they lived in the same apartment complex. He turned back into the bar to Erwin smiling drunkenly and Nanaba knocked out cold, sleeping soundly as she sat with her head down on a table. Levi grumbled and picked up Nanaba’s saxophone case to haul into the trunk of his car. He returned to pick up Nanaba and carried her on his back, and Erwin walked with them to Levi’s car.

“Hey Levi, Our new drummer is flying in tomorrow. I told her I’d come and pick her up from the airport at 7am.”

Levi looked Erwin up and down with a look of disgust. “In that sorry state, Eyebrows? Tch, go sleep off the hangover tonight, I can go to the airport. What’s her name and what does she look like?”

“Her name’s Hange. She has messy brown hair usually worn up in a ponytail, wears tortoise clubmaster glasses and well… honestly you can’t miss her, I’m sure you’ll find her right away.”

“Okay. So why’d we need to bring in a completely new drummer anyway? Couldn’t we have just brought in Moblit?”

“Ah you know his style doesn’t fit ours as well, plus he’s doing well with his band right now. Don’t worry, Hange and I played together all 4 years of college together, she’s got chops. Plus, I think Hange will probably bring in the change we need. Your playing’s gone a bit stale... hasn’t it, Levi?”

“Stale?! Pfft you’re just drunk,” Levi muttered, irritated as Erwin raised his eyebrows at him. They arrived at their apartment complex and Levi begrudgingly unlocked the car doors, gently woke Nanaba, and the three of them walked up to their floor. Erwin fumbled with his keys, and Levi snatched it out of his hands, frustrated at how long it was taking him. Erwin chuckled, and Levi scrunched up his nose at the stench of alcohol in his breath. As soon as the door opened, Nanaba immediately ran to the bathroom, retching into the toilet.

“I got her,” Erwin laughed. “Go to bed, Levi, you’re the one getting up early. Flight info’s next to the door.”

Levi nodded, turned into his room, and plopped down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, and wondered how much longer he’d keep playing, or more like, how soon he’d quit. If this Hange person was as annoying as Nile, well… he probably wouldn’t hold out much longer.

——

Levi stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes peeled for this Hange person. He looked at his watch—“Maybe she was still waiting on her luggage,” he thought. He walked over to the small cafe to his left, and waited in line, squinting for any decent teas on the menu. Before he could decide, he suddenly heard a small yelp, and something shoved right into his chest, feeling piping hot coffee running down his white, longsleeve shirt. Before he could yell obscenities at the moron who just ruined one of his favorite shirts, he was met with frantic apologizes.

“I’m so so sorry! Oh my goodness it was a complete accident, can I get you a drink to make up for it? Man I am so clumsy...oh! Maybe you can wear one of my shirts I have here, free of charge! Or I could just—“

He looked up in the middle of incessant rambling to see the culprit—a tall brunette, hair messily tied up in a bun, wearing tortoise clubmaster glasses, and a bright yellow coat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Levi thought to himself. He looked down to see a large black cymbal case and a stick bag with yarn mallets and drumsticks poking out of it.

—I could just buy you a new shirt! Oh, how bout—“

Levi was livid—this clown was potentially going to be playing gigs with them over the next year? The coffee stained fabric was sticking uncomfortably to his skin and he felt the biggest headache coming on—all this pain just from one person. He reached up and gently placed his hand over her mouth to physically stop her chattering.

“Is your name, Hange?”

She nodded, Levi’s hand still covering her mouth.

“You’re Erwin’s friend?”

She nodded again, her eyes lighting up at the name, Levi feeling her lips forming a smile under his palm.

“Okay, I’m taking you back to our apartment.”

Levi reached for her bags to carry them, but was interrupted.

“Wait—the least I can do is give you the extra shirt I have in my backpack so you can change out of your soiled one,” she said softly. She reached in her bag, and pulled out the shirt and Levi felt his eye twitch in annoyance at the words printed on its front. He sighed, and debated sitting in his wet shirt, but it seemed like he didn’t have much choice—he’d have to wear it.

——

Levi blinked his eyes open. He felt oddly rested, but one thing was strange—he was sitting up, and he felt something unusually heavy on his shoulder.

“What the—“

He looked to the side and saw a mess of brown hair immediately to his right, heard the soft sound of snoring, and felt… something wet on his arm? He looked down and grimaced. “Drool. She’s drooling. On my goddamn arm.”

He looked around for some kind of napkin. He didn’t remember falling asleep, let alone letting this absolute stranger curl up against him. How in the world did he let his guard down this far?

He stared blankly at Hange and thought, “What a mess—what was Erwin thinking? We’ve known each other for less than 5 hours, and she seems to have already made herself right at home. I haven’t even confirmed whether she was good enough to play with us, yet.” He tried to shift out from underneath Hange, but before he could wriggle is way out—

“Kiss the drummer?”

Erwin and Nanaba stood before Levi, both with hair in a complete mess, having just woken up from sleeping off their hangovers. Smirking and holding back laughter, they stared at the scene—Levi wearing an oversized t-shirt with the words “Kiss the Drummer” in bold letters plastered across his chest, along with Hange sleeping quite cozily on his shoulder, her glasses held gently between his fingers. Levi tried covering up the words and scowled at his two friends.

“Laugh it up,” he muttered. “What is this, Erwin? She’s clearly made herself at home already—and we haven’t even gotten to play together yet.”

“Relax, Levi, she’s a great musician. And look, she likes you!”

Levi grimaced at Hange draped over his shoulder.

“Hmph, I still have to hear her play and have my opinion considered. We all get a vote yknow…”

Over their hushed voices, Hange shifted groggily towards all of them and rubbed her eyes. “Erwin?”

Hange’s eyes lit up immediately in recognition, shoving Levi back further into the couch as she jumped up to wrap Erwin in her embrace, excited to finally be reunited with her friend after so many years.

After a few minutes of catching up, Erwin smiled brightly. “Yes, we can take you around the city a bit. Rehearsal’s not til this evening anyway—we did have a gig lined up last minute for the middle of this week if you were comfortable with that, Hange.”

“Of course I’d be down to do that! I—“

“Oi. Like I said, we still vote if you get to play with our group officially. Don’t be late to rehearsal tonight.” Levi then slowly stood up and walked quietly towards his room.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just being strict about our technical audition policy,’ Erwin reassured. He and Nanaba quickly darted for their rooms to ready themselves to take Hange sightseeing for a little while and introduce her to the city, leaving her standing alone in the middle of their living room. Her eyes trailed after Levi, curious about his calm yet sad energy. She felt that she saw through that aura, noticing every little kind gesture he made towards her from the time they met at the airport to the moment they fell asleep on the couch. Hange was determined to get him to show that side of himself a little more. As he turned to grab the door behind him, she smiled at him, and was quickly met with a scowl and the slam of his bedroom door in her face. Seemed it might take some more effort to get through to him than she originally thought.

[ixellent]

So in case you’re not on twitter a bunch of artists recently announced they were working with an “eco friendly” NFT company and the reactions were mixed but I wanted to put a few simple notes without even talking about the environmental impact of NFTs as a whole, like let’s just skip the whole discussion of that part for a second. It’s not that I don’t think it’s important, but it’s a little bit of a distraction on this issue because people can split hairs and pull statistics over the cost of NFT vs carbon offsetting vs how much electricity we waste vs big corporations all day. This is probably not going to be how we finally pass legislation to stop pollution and save the planet, so let’s just put a pin in that aspect and talk about ethically what’s going on.

1) Money Laundering A lot of artists were interested in NFT because they saw how much money people were allegedly making, right? We want that money, we feel that art is underpriced, undercut, underappreciated, it sucks out there! But! Why does NFT go for so much? Because it’s certified authentic ownership of digital art or whatever? We have been able to do this with digital files for a long time, quickly and easily, it’s called DRM. "Authenticity” and “owning an original” was never the reason. This has been happening in the fine art community for decades. (Rich) People use art to launder money because they can buy it for some amount of money*, insure it for even more money, have it valued at more money, and sell it to other people for obscene money and that’s a lot easier to explain than randomly paying someone thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars for doing you a favor. It also effectively “hides” money the same way real estate can. It doesn’t mean it’s easy but it’s a loophole to avoid taxes and the IRS and makes your money look more “legitimate” on paper because less of your assets are liquid, they can still “appreciate” because the object of value the money is tied to can be subjectively desirable as to make it “worth” whatever you want. * Art CAN be somewhat objectively valued by experts and historians, kind of like how comics or Magic cards can be valued, but it is a unique good in that people can decide its value based on literally whatever they want, which is to say, nothing at all. And you can be like “Well what about LEGITIMATE art sales!” I don’t know how to explain to you that most art isn’t going to suddenly be worth thousands of more dollars overnight legitimately. Like aren’t people suspicious of the fact that people would suddenly be paying a lot of money for wafer-thin ownership of an image they made? You can be like “idc where the money comes from” I guess, but then you’re probably not concerned about the issue of unregulated markets in the first place lol. Here’s some articles: https://www.natlawreview.com/article/art-and-money-laundering  - This one does a great job explaining how private art sales and real estate manage this and what they’ve been trying to do to stymie it, as well as making it obvious how NFT sales are exactly the same as the warehouses people keep art in lol https://www.artandobject.com/news/how-money-laundering-works-art-world - this talks a bit about the big famous warehouse https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/29/business/art-money-laundering-sanctions-senate/index.html - I know it’s CNN but it talks a little about the red tape that allegedly exists and where it doesn’t https://news.artnet.com/market/think-artists-are-getting-rich-off-nfts-think-again-1962752 - your art isn’t worth thousands overnight lol

2) Artificial Scarcity So this is one of those things that people can come down a few different ways on. In the last few decades of The Internet, you’ll have some people who believe in a free and open internet and exchange of ideas and media, while other people want to keep ownership of the things they create and protect that ownership, and if you ask me, neither of them are wrong exactly! But that doesn’t matter because when we “mint NFTs” for art, it is artificial scarcity, because with a digital copy of work, you can redistribute, copy, paste, screenshot it as much as you want for personal use. It’s not illegal until you try to sell copies of things you DIDN’T create (and as we’ve seen with some vehement NFT benefiters, the lines for fair use, parody, and ownership are being ground into dust in order to make a buck), and it’s certainly frowned upon to repost or share it without permission. But NFTs create limited “certified original copies” or “ownership” of an image for no reason other than to give people a reason to inflate its value (see money laundering above).  As a digital artist, I’m not saying I think my art is less valuable because it’s digital, but I can create infinite copies of it - the file itself is worth virtually nothing but the demand for the labor it took to create it. A limited physical run of prints of digital art has ACTUAL scarcity because it may not be printed again, or might not be printed in that way, so the price can be set by demand/by the market! There are physical costs of materials, shipping etc. The physical cost of digital goods is measurable but not as easily because of the myriad of ways it is produced. My digital commissioners actually pay for the service of art rather than a physical good, and my freelance clients pay for the RIGHT to use an image as well as my labor, because there is no scarcity of digital materials themselves. This is not to say digital art does not need preservation at some point, or that it is a zero-cost-to-produce situation, but I hope you can see why limiting certificates of ownership of a digital file in this way to do art sales is suspicious and kind of weird. We have had secure methods of demonstrating creation and ownership of a digital file for a long time if we really wanted it to be about “ownership” but it wouldn’t stop people just screenshotting all the same. That’s why so many artists will offer the option to pay for ACCESS to the files and we still depend largely on the honor system! As they’ve been saying with piracy all these years, anyone who was going to pay for it would have, and all we can do is give people convenient, accessible ways to get the content they want to try and prevent them from stealing it, and some people always will because they think it should all be free. (And I’m not here to pass judgement on that! I’ve been on the internet a long time lol.) I just wanted to get this out because people got so up in arms about the ecological impact of NFTs (and rightly in a lot of ways! Sure!) and missed the part where the fine art business is MONEY LAUNDERING. Also idk but the fact that all the NFT stuff can literally just shut down and be gone forever isn’t really secure finances. You can tell me that it’s spread out on a bunch of computers so it doesn’t just disappear when one goes down, but it doesn’t appear to be so seamless in practice, and like all currency, we have to agree collectively that it’s worth something for it to be worth anything. https://www.businessinsider.com/what-happens-to-digital-art-nft-servers-shut-down-2021-3

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

[theaspers]

all you wanna do — lucifer x reader | nsfw

a/n: AU where everyone is human. the relationship portrayed is one that is based on a trade of financial/material benefits for each other’s gain but it’s all consensual lol not extremely explicit but pls do mind the nsfw tag! i just needed to get this fake dating au out of my system so sorry if this is not your cup of tea!!

it’s something like a game for the both of you.

there are roles to play, choices to make, goals to achieve.

when his father had brought up his exclusion from the inheritance, lucifer had been angry. rightfully so, he believes. he had poured literal years into the company, did what his father expected him to, went above and beyond for the family name and this was his compensation? the time he had spent, the vacation days he had traded for work days, the multitude of deals and projects that he has seen through - had everything been for naught?

ridiculous.

there was no way he could let that stand.

and so began his plan.

admittedly, he’d been a bit desperate when he’d contrived it. it occurs to him now that there are probably better avenues that he could have gone down that would have been much easier. but. well, he’s in way too deep now.

you had been the safest choice. a friend he’s known for years (and he doesn’t award that title easily). he’s always kept his distance from you because even though he knew you and knew how you worked, you were still incredibly unpredictable. but if the time the both of you have spent circling around each other has taught him anything, it’s that you are, without a doubt, the perfect person for this task.

it’s in moments like these that it’s particularly evident.

there had been no pressing matters that he needed you to do tonight - he’d been satisfied with the business deals that you helped seal the day before, and the fact that you were somehow steadily winning him back his father’s favor. still, it seemed like you could never resist the chance to be in the spotlight.

you thrive in it, he thinks. especially now. you’re an absolute spectacle to watch. like the sun, there is a gravity that pulls everyone towards you, that causes people to revolve around you, that has everyone hanging on to the littlest things you do and say.

you have the rapt attention of all his business associates, like you always do. fingers splayed across one’s arm for a split second, eyes gleaming with mirth at another, a coy bite of your bottom lip. the almost obscene flirtation with saccharine words, heavy and heady and honeyed. they’re falling at your feet, stumbling and fumbling, absolutely wrapped around your fingers without even noticing it.

it’d been a sore point on his fraying nerves, closer to the start. he wouldn’t say he was envious because the fact is that he didn’t deserve to be. while not a conventional relationship, the two of you still had your own underlying objectives to pursue. you helped him out with the messy business of his inheritance and everything that had to do with it. he helped you out financially - money, of course, a hefty allowance and some extra, and then the odd shopping trips, the dinner dates, the occasional trips abroad.

you were supposed to be only a clandestine investment, a simple business deal, and nothing more.

this was, of course, when he had assumed he would be able to practice restraint. and of course, you had to go and prove him wrong.

eyes darker than the night sky, following his every movement, tracing every single gesture. the begging and pleading and the purring, desperate and needy - so so needy. lips wrapping around his cock. everything and anything to get what you wanted. getting it out of his system, fucking you into his bed and letting you wrap your legs around his hips and letting your lips curl into a wicked smirk as you begged him to fuck you harder, had been easier than words could ever be.

and fact is that it isn’t just him. it’s impossible to miss. every once in a while, your eyes would seek him out. in the midst of wooing his associates, your attention would flicker back to him, no matter how quickly. a playful curl to your lips, as if knowing that he’d been staring. but you’re always seeking him out. always craving his attention and no one else’s. at the end of the day, you come crawling back to him. always back to him. it pleases him to no ends.

so yes, it’s absolutely thrilling to watch you, twin pride and pleasure slithering up his spine. it’s like he’s watching a twisted stage play and he can’t look away. he’d been the sole person on the receiving end of it for so long, breathless and powerless under your gaze, so seeing everyone else being afflicted by it for once is amusing. and even between all of it, he can still see your calculative nature that everyone else seems to miss. deliberate with the words you say, careful with the attention you spare. just enough to keep them teetering on the edge, wanting for more.

and he’s not certain how all of this will end.

not when you pull him aside and ask - so prettily, uncaring of the designer wear you have on, social graces long forgotten - to please let you suck his dick. not when he knows you’ll do anything to climb onto his lap later on the way back home, wrapping your arms around his neck, and ride him in the back of the limo. not when he knows he’ll take you back to his place afterwards anyways, will press you down and fuck you excruciatingly slowly. tease you and string you out until you’re nothing more than a crying mess.

not when he’s absolutely sure that he’ll let all of it happen because being with you is a different kind of deviance, a thunder-like excitement that has him itching for more.

but this was you.

your hands have always been the only ones he would gladly play into.

[cloudbatcave]

Cloud Plays White: Finale

This is a long one, folks, since I realized I had a bit in my notes I had forgotten about and only found after I posted this, lol, so I have now edited it in.

when we last left off I was criticizing Alder for being useless in apprehending Ghetsis and Iris for not just taking me to Drayden’s house herself when it is Right Fucking There. 

So I’m still futzing around Opelucid here.

“No way, without pokemon, I’ll be lonely and sad! …but am I just using my pokemon, then?”

wow, seems there’s some brain cells there after all. you keep exercising those, brah.

I run into a guy who thinks that it’s okay for team plasma to take pokemon from weak trainers, even though he considers himself one and feels bad for the people they rob.

There’s another dude in the same room who used to be part of team plasma but left because it was weird for him that everyone thought the same way.

See, I appreciate this part of the game’s writing - I wish there was more stuff like this, people who are conflicted and their viewpoints being front and center instead of the simplistic garbage we’re fed by Iris and Alder and company.

Though there’s an absolute nut job who says that despite the years he’s trained with his pokemon he’ll let it go if it makes it a perfect being and I am just not even gonna unpack all the lunacy there.

There’s a kid who thinks that just because N has the legendary pokemon, he must be the hero.

I am very concerned about everyone in Unova being so gullible.

“Your Scrafty looks like it can try a little harder.”

WELL FUCK YOU TOO RANDOM LADY??? LAD DOES HIS BEST AND I WILL NOT HAVE HIM SLANDERED THIS WAY

I finally go to Drayden’s and get told how the original dragon performed mitosis and now we have two dragons and also they once destroyed the region with fire and lightning but it’s chill.

“People may hurt pokemon even more by imposing their selfish thoughts on them. But no matter what, Pokemon and people believe in each other, need each other, and will continue to live together…”

Drayden is smarter and more nuanced than like, anyone else, why is he not a main character.

Iris chips in about how much she can’t forgive Plasma and Drayden mentions they don’t know how to wake up Zekrom.

Well, to be fair, I’d be very surprised if they did.

Off to the gym, this’ll be interesting since I have no ice or dragon moves on my team.

I get through the trainers okay, now time to fight Daffodil.

Her Haxorus was a bit tricky but nothing I couldn’t handle, and when I walk out Juniper shows up.

And somehow she knows how to resurrect Zekrom. Cool!

She blahs about how it’ll wake up when it deems someone worthy and talks about how much I’ve changed and shows me to the gate where the route to the pokemon league is.

“Chirae? Do you regret setting out on your pokemon journey?”

UH.

MAYBE?

mmm, that’s not fair to my pokemon though - nigh everyone around me may be looney tunes or incompetent, but they’ve been good pals.

So I hit “no” after all.

and she gives me a master ball. dope.

I make it to the gates of victory road and I honestly really like the bit where each section of them is themed after the badges! That’s a nice touch, I think that was only also done in the FRLG remakes if I recall correctly. It makes it feel a lot more ceremonious and important.

Ah here come my two idiots.

Bianca asks Cheren to smile and he’d probably implode if he did. He finally isn’t an asshole though, good for him.

The bug badge guard tells me to “fight valiantly like an insect” which is funny but I guess does make sense. Ants can fuck some stuff up, man.

Honestly I want to be a badge gate guard, seems like a fun job.

Also, I caught an excadrill in a raid the day I wrote this, and caught an excadrill in this game. Their pokedex entry includes this gem:

“Their tunnels can be destructive to subway systems”

Given the battle subway exists in this game, their insurance payments must be obscene. Imagine getting your match interrupted by a giant mole with metal fists that doesn’t give a fuck.

I named her Beans. She looks like a Beans.

I also caught a Deino. The Irate Pokémon that can’t see and tackles people to learn about its surroundings. I feel a kinship with this creature.

I named him Mezzo for laughs.

And I managed to get myself back to the beginning of victory road. Good job, cloud.

Okay I think I’ve found the right path, found a new dude to beat up which is a good sign. Apparently he’s lost too.

Love when a trainer switches out to a Pokémon mine doesn’t have a type advantage against and it gets wiped in two hits anyway. Death is inevitable.

“I’ve thought about what I can do to help my Pokémon win and I finally figured out the answer!”

Is it git gud?

Flame charge raises my speed, opponent’s klang uses automotize to prove it can do that too, dies because it’s too busy trying to go fast.

Then I get nailed by a flare blitz. Darmanitan is toxic to gen 5 nuzlocke runs, I swear. Especially since I have no one on my hodgepodge team resistant to fire. At least my unfezant is faster.

“Read what your opponent wants to do. Your opponent is human and may change plans from moment to moment. Be careful!”

There’s some meta joke to be made there but I’m not thinking of anything witty. Something something AI having a point even if not in this context.

Back to the beginning again but I think I know what I need to do now.

I looked at a walkthrough to check, tho, lmfao. Was tired of climbing up there only to fall down the wrong spot.

“There’s an item at the bottom! Do you want to slide all the way down?”

You’re the devil talking and you tempt me but I will ignore your silver tongue for now.

So I’m at the league and I thought Cheran would pop out of the bushes before I got here. That’s weird. I could swear he fights me one last time before I challenge the elite four.

NO CHERAN. OKAY. WHAT. IS MY GAME GLITCHED??

I guess not! Huh.

All right then. Time to try and see if I can win with my very unbalanced team.

Lmfao yeah my first attempt against the ghost trainer crashed and burned. Literally, thanks to her Chandelure. Very glad I saved on the outside. TIME TO GO TRAIN MORE.

No Marty, you may not learn wild charge, this is a no recoil moves household, self harm is bad.

Some grinding later, I am ready to try again.

Shauntal gave me a little trouble but was much more manageable. Grimsley was easy, only his Krookodile gave me issues.

I really like the elite four battle areas in this gen, I do admit. Very aesthetic.

Ah shit I know that Musharna is coming.

Never mind, that pink and purple snoozeball went down easy. I didn’t have a single Pokémon faint.

Unless Marshal breaks the trend the fights have actually gotten easier as I went.

He actually was a bit tricky, gave me a good show.

Hello endless stairs, hello N and Alder, hello giant random castle that just explodes out of the ground somehow.

“What has just appeared is team plasma’s castle”

Thanks mate, never would’ve figured that out without you. Why do you need a castle. 

Oh wow, the gym leaders finally decided to be useful and fight the sages for me instead of letting extremists wander around unchecked.

Thanks y’all! Trying not being pointless more often!

“Ignoring team plasma...that would be a terrible thing for us gym leaders to do.”

You all already did that, Elena. I watched as Clay and Iris let these assholes go. We could have avoided this whole plot if literally any of you had done more earlier.

So the game says the castle was built by the Pokémon team plasma took but how the fuck did they like...work underground...you know what I’m not gonna even think about it too hard because it makes no sense and I know that. I must make my peace.

I also like how the castle is nonsensical and yet there’s a line of dialogue about how they’ll liberate the Pokémon in PCs too for their Master Plan(TM), which is surprisingly thoughtful. This game is so inconsistent with how much sense its lore makes. It’ll come up with something clever and then wear its underwear on its head the next minute.

“Will you go the Pokémon league?”

Hey what - WHY DID YOU TELEPORT ME HOW CAN YOU DO THAT. DO YOU HAVE AN ABRA OR WHAT

THAT WAS RANDOM

Well at least there’s someone there to randomly teleport me back too.

WHEEEEEE

Hi Reshiram, convenient how that mini fire tornado you made didn’t burn me or N.

Hi Zekrom, convenient how your lightning didn’t hurt us either, you’re a considerate chap

Aight, let’s see if I can catch this bastard

...I did and it only took me like five balls. Okay then.

N gave me a good fight, so there’s that.

Love how Ghetsis’s bouffalant kills itself via recoil from its own move and my scrafty’s rocky helmet.

He gave me a good fight too though.

I do like the ending, despite my issues with how the game presents its message. N is a great character and I appreciate what Nintendo was trying to do with the game’s plot, they just...didn’t really delve into it like they should have.

I’m glad I replayed it. I still have my issues with gen 5 but I see a lot more of its positives now.

We’ll see if I do any post-game content, I have gotten kind of attached to my grump-ass trainersona and his weird team.

[lokis-lady-death]

Falling from Grace

Loki x Reader 

Lady Death Note: This is a story I’ve been working on as a mental health project that’s meant to be a 2 part mini for Halloween (yes I’m late so it’s more Dia De Los Muertos special lol). Part 2 should be up soon, but keep in mind this isn’t meant to be a sweet love story. 

WARNING: This story contains sexual harassment/assault, mention of self harm and mental health

The dull sound of the windshield wiper blades passing back and forth over the glass was enough to lull anyone to sleep, but really everything about this day beckoned one to return to bed. The repetitious splashing of water against the car, the sound of tires rolling through puddles, the screech of brakes that slid across the wet pavement: the symphony of a wet, dreary day made you want to curl up under blankets dry and pretend the world didn’t exist. You didn’t want to do anything. 

Least of all, talk to Dr. Banner. 

Leaning your head against the window, you stared out at the blurry images of buildings passing by. You let out a sigh, catching eyes with your mother in the rearview mirror. She shot you a sympathetic smile you tried to reciprocate, but it was a hard reaction given the circumstances. 

When you looked away, she glanced over at Earl, your step dad, who drove your family in silence down the main street of town to your weekly therapy session. His face was always the same expression of angry and confused, so it wasn't exactly clear how he felt about the whole situation.

Anna, your younger sister, sat beside you mesmerized by her phone like any other teenager her age, her bubble gum smacking. 

A part of you wanted to ask to go back home, to forget this week's appointment, but you knew the answer to that unasked request. 

It had been the same every week, for  several years now, weekly sessions with a different assortment of doctors, all trying to make you 'better'. You weren’t allowed to miss an appointment, and now would be no different 

So you sat lost in your own thoughts while your family road together in the cramped, broken down Oldsmobile until finally pulling up to the  conglomerate of small businesses that shared the street front with Dr. Banner's clinic. 

Before anyone else moved, you were already out of the car, pulling down the hood of your jacket and zipping up the front. The rain was lightly coming down, but when your mother got out with her bulky umbrella, you wondered if she expected a storm. She put a reassuring arm around your shoulders like always, giving you a slight squeeze before releasing you at the sight of Earl opening the door. Anna stayed in the car. 

"Ya gettin' out?" Earl asked expectantly. 

She shook her head, still staring at her phone.

Your mother, in her nauseatingly overloving tone pressed, "You don't need to just sit in the car, sweetie, come on, it won't be long-"

"I’m not sitting in there with those freaks.” Her tone wasn't any nastier than when she first started getting dragged to your appointments, but the words were still enough to send a twinge of guilt to your stomach. 

You knew she hated this, hated you for this, but all you could do was offer, "I can go in by myself, you guys don't have to follow me everywhere." 

Both Earl and your mother turned to you, your step dad leering over the car with a snicker, "We get paid to show the state that you're making an effort to get your shit together, y/n. I ain't risking our money on-" 

"Earl!" 

"No," he answered indefinitely, "We all come together to make sure she does what she's supposed to. That's the deal. Unless you're about to start working more hours at the diner, Janice?" 

He had a nasty habit of talking about you as if you weren't there, but acknowledging it was never useful. 

Especially when he wasn’t entirely in the wrong. 

You had been known to cut sessions, going as far as to leave the house like you were to attend them only to blow them off at the local bookstore. Really the one and only reason anyone in your family even cared about your mental health treatment boiled down to one big factor- money. 

Back when you were a child, you had a near death experience that rendered you, according to the government, handicapped. For that, your family- at the time just you, Anna and your mother-lived off Welfare, Food Stamps, Medicaid and Disability. It wasn't much, but it was enough. 

Then came Earl. 

He swooped in on his magic horse, enticed your mother into marriage, and then began his reign in your income-based-housing as the king. He made sure that you got every benefit you could, down to the last dime so that he didn't have to work, though Janice picked up shifts here and there when she could. It never made sense why your mom would get mixed up with a man like him, but you tried not to dwell on it anymore.

Because the truly unfortunate part? 

When you should have been taken out of the system after graduating high school, you made one cataclysmic mistake that gave Earl just what he needed. He managed to render you legally unfit to live alone, making it impossible for you to move out and get on with your life.

Under court orders, you were forced to live under his roof while the state paid for your family's livelihood. 

The condition for this? You attend weekly therapy sessions and keep a clean record for five years if you ever wanted the chance for a normal life. 

Two years in, at twenty years old, you needed three more of good standing to be able to move out on your own. 

So really you couldn't blame Anna; if you had a defective sibling that cost you your Saturday morning, you'd be pissed off, too. 

You gave the argument, "You got me this far, I think it's safe to assume I can walk inside and wait alone. If nothing else you can stay out here and watch me go in, even go ask Stacy at the front desk if I saw the doctor."

His eyes narrowed, but your mom grabbed hold of your hand and agreed. "I think that's a fine idea. I can take Anna to go look across the street at the department stores, while you go fiddle around in the hardware store. Doesn't that sound like a good way to spend our morning, Earl?" Though she said it so assuredly, she looked back to your step dad for approval. 

Moments like that always made your stomach sick. 

Fuck Earl, and fuck his approval. 

Letting a huff out through his mustache, he waved his hand towards you, looking away as if the sight of you made him ill. "Fine. But I'm going to check in, so don't fuck up-"

"Earl!" 

You took in a breath and stepped away from the car, preferring to make your exit now rather than wait another second. Inside you couldn't help but smile at a familiar face before checking in with the doctor's receptionist. 

"Yo, y/n, they ain't committed you to the nut house yet?" the man you smiled at commented as you walked to the sitting area. He held out a hand that you took and together you shoulder bumped. 

Sam was quite easily one of your favorite people in this godforsaken place, having met him a little over a year ago when he started bringing his friend to see another doctor in the clinic. He had a small frame, but his loud personality was enough for him to make a big impact on you. Between his smooth, brown skin, neatly trimmed goatee, fresh cologne and bright grin, you’d even say he was a good looking guy. 

"Naw, not yet. But today’s a new day, so who knows?" 

He chuckled at that. "Was that your old man I heard outside?" 

Embarrassed, all you could do was let out a shaky laugh. "Step dad. But, yeah, he's just an asshole. So how is our soldier holding up?" 

Sam shook his head, dejected as he admitted, "Not too good. Still a lot of bad dreams. But the doctor is supposed to be giving him something to help with sleep so we’ll see how that goes."

You faced the ground, folding your hands in front of you as you sympathized, "Yeah, hopefully that helps." 

You didn't know too much about Sam and Bucky, but from what you heard, they were soldiers together in Iraq before another friend in their squad died. Bucky had lost his arm while trying to rescue him from the flames of a Humvee that had taken an RPG hit. His body survived but his mind didn’t make it back from the war. 

Just then, a man came into the lobby from the back rooms where patients saw their respective clinicians. His hair was long and shaggy, matching the unshaven fuzz on his face while his downhearted eyes kept down to the floor. One of his hands rested in his hoodie while the left sleeve hung empty at his side. 

"Hey, Bucky, how's it going?" you called out. His eyes came up to meet yours and a faint curl graced his lips. He didn't speak, but to be fair, he only recently reacted to you at all, so this was an improvement. 

Sam went over to the receptionist counter with Bucky as another man with a shaved head walked in. 

This one, with his five o'clock shadow didn't have a hard time with eye contact as he locked onto you immediately, swiping a tongue across his lips. He made a gesture with his hand and mouth to imitate a blowjob. "Hey, sweet cheeks, if you ever lookin to party, hit me up, I don't care if you're a little looney, they say crazy chicks give the best head-" 

"Boy, I'll knock you the fuck out coming in here talking like that to her!" Sam cut at him, his fists already tight. 

"Whoah, whoah! Hostilities, Mr. Wilson, are NOT what any of my patients need!" you heard from the recognizable voice of Dr. Banner. Walking in behind the other man was your doctor, a shorter gentleman with a clean, well pressed suit and large green bow tie. His hair was salt and peppered, his brow thick and furrowed as he went on, "And Ajax, watch your mouth. Remember your exercises, you need to have some control. Now,” he turned to you, his brow relaxing as he offered you his sympathetic smile, “Miss y/n, come on in, I'm ready for you." 

It was strange the way his voice could go from so stern to soft as a feather, but maybe that's why he was so good at talking to people like you. Hell, even the obscene jerk, Ajax, was doing somewhat better, considering the first time you passed him in the hall alone, he cornered you in the bathroom and immediately went to try and expose himself. Fortunately for you, Sam had a small bladder, and unfortunately for Ajax, his right hook was like a freight train. 

All of you ended up keeping the matter to yourselves so Banner didn't kick everyone out of the office. It was because of Banner you, Ajax and Sam's friend Bucky stayed out of the state nuthouse, and as satisfying as it would have been to see police drag Ajax away, losing Banner's support wouldn't bode well for any of you. And comparatively speaking, it wasn’t the worst situation you could have encountered, based on the numerous stories about the deranged psychopath Ajax. 

If the worst thing he ever did in your vicinity was flash his unimpressive, disgusting member, then you could handle it.  

Because in the end it just wasn't worth it. 

So you bottled the discomfort of seeing him every week, even as his comments stayed constant. Not much longer and you could be done with this place. 

But even so, as you passed him by, you couldn't stop the utter look of disgust on your face at the site of him.

You stared at your feet as you beelined past Ajax, ignoring the comment he mumbled. 

"I'd skull fuck you till you eyes popped like a soda can."

Suppressing the nausea of being this close to him, you ignored it, just ready to get the shitshow over and done. 

Inside the room, you plopped down on the black couch just as Dr. Banner closed the door. "How are you doing, Miss y/n?"

Removing the hood from your head, you played off like always, as if a recording of yourself, "I'm doing alright, how about you, Dr. Banner?"

He quirked a brow, taking his usual seat across from you on a leather high-back chair. 

"I'm doing well, thank you. But I meant more like how are you lately? Have you had a good week?" 

"It was fine."

When you didn't elaborate, he went on, "Did you have anything interesting happen? Anything new at home?" You shook your head. "How about plans this weekend?" Again, you shook your head. "Well, how have things been at home? Did you have any… visitors?" 

At that you sucked in you lips, shifting your eyes to a plant he kept in the corner of the room. “That’s really pretty, Dr. Banner, is that an orchid?”

Banner took in a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose to help with the mental strain that was You. 

"Come on, this is about open communication, y/n. Getting it out, letting everything into the open. Surely you can hold up half the conversation?" His thick brows raised in an empathetic style, waiting for you to take hold.  "This is a safe space, you're not going to be punished for telling me anything. I'm not here to judge or berate you, I'm here to help you." Then he ended it all with his signature, sincere twinkle in his eye.

You grunted. 

Of all the therapists you had ever seen, Dr Banner was the only one who could get anything out of you. 

"I…” you rubbed both hands down your face, “I saw him. He came."

Banner leaned in,  producing a small notepad and pen from nowhere while his eyes stayed on you. "The man in black?" You nodded, but knew that wouldn't be enough. "Did you do what we talked about? Did your exercises help?" 

Your hands landed in your lap, your fingers twiddling while your chest had a quick rise and fall. 

"Y/n?" 

"I tried," you finally let out, "I really did, doctor, I just…”

"Are you afraid of him?" 

To that you didn't answer, didn't make eye contact. Your breath left you at the allegation. 

Were you afraid?

It had all began when you were just four years old, out fishing in the pond at your grandparent’s house with your dad in the dinky row boat he had used since he was a kid. You remembered how excited you were when he let you take the pole, how fearless you felt until the line gave a sharp tug. He tried to talk you through reeling it in, but it was quickly clear you couldn’t pull hard enough. 

Taking the pole, he tried maybe three more seconds before the boat toppled over at a sudden jerk. 

No one ever could figure out how it happened. 

You didn’t remember anything after falling into the water except your tiny hands clawing desperately at the side of the slick boat to try and hold your head up. 

But you sank like a rock. 

That’s when your memory held the key moment that would change your life forever. 

Choked on pond muck, your eyes were still open but didn’t have the same sense of life they once held. You hadn't even processed what had happened, or the fact that really you were already dead, when you saw Him for the very first time. 

Dressed from head to toe in all black, with black long hair creating a halo around his white face, it could have well been from the midday sun shining behind him, but the man in black seemed to glow like an angel. His avocado colored eyes met yours with concern, his lips moving to speak but you couldn’t tell what he was saying. 

After all, you were already dead. 

Yet against all logic, in that instant you coughed up what had flooded your lungs, hurling to the side so as not to gag. Your mother and grandparents had just started running towards you when you could make out, clear as the nose on your face, the outline of the man in black walking away.

In the beginning it appeared you managed to come out of the whole incident with only a fear of water along with the belief of a guardian angel watching over you. Your father, however, was not so fortunate. His subsequent death was what many attributed to your belief in the man in black and, eventually, your decline in sanity. 

"He's not real, y/n,” Banner reiterated, shattering the flashback as you came crashing back to the here and now. “That's something you know now. He's not real, he can't hurt you, not unless you let his existence push you like before. As long as you know, in your mind, he isn't real, that it's you in control, then that's what'll get you past this."

You hated when that unfortunate event got brought up, even when it wasn't meant to be a jab at you. 

After the first time you saw him, the man in black became an obsession. Day after day, you kept asking your mother to find out who it was that had saved you from drowning, even though she insisted no one else was there besides your family. It was something you constantly spoke about, much to everyone’s annoyance, but having just lost your father they all turned a blind eye.

What was the harm of an imaginary savior for a four year old? 

It wasn’t until a few months later that you started seeing him, or at least, an outline of him. Where his face was somewhat discernible at the pond, now he was a distorted image in the corner of rooms, or off standing in the distance outside. At first, you were excited to see him. You couldn’t wait to show him to your mother, to introduce him as the man who had saved your life. 

The problem became clear when no one else could see him, but progressed when he started appearing more often. 

In the beginning you admired the man in black,  even at a certain point growing fond for him. When you first hit puberty, you innocent pubescent mind fantasized about him being some entity that was meant to love and protect you. In your head, you created this identity for him that didn't ever entirely go away.

And as you grew more curious, he seemed to start coming closer. 

The first time he came close was when he suddenly appeared before you in the hallway in middle school. In any other circumstance, you might would have been happy with the progress you'd made with him, but this wasn't what you felt in that moment. Rather than have the slightly distorted image of a face, what you saw was more like a moving shadow. His arms stretched out and you could see blackness emanating from him, unlike anything you had ever seen. 

It felt like you couldn’t breathe, yet you somehow managed to scream, throwing your books to the ground to huddle into the fetal position. 

Everything just snowballed from there, leading to several psych evaluations, hospital stays, medications, and, most notably now, therapy sessions. Nearly everyone was certain you were making it up for attention as a high strung teenager that needed to be the center of everyone’s world, and that it would, one day, pass. It began to be something you no longer told others about, keeping the details of the growing issues to yourself as the years went by and the man in black became more and more brazen.

At its worse, there were nights where you laid completely catatonic in your bed, your heart pounding to the point of making you nauseated, all while he floated mere inches from your face, his body- black like he were clothed but too blurry to make out- floating parallel to yours. 

What made this so disturbing was the empty, white vastness where his face should have been that you couldn't look away from. It felt like he was staring holes into your soul. 

Somehow you managed to keep the worst of it to yourself until one particularly awful day your senior year when classmates teased you, calling you a freak and a liar. It had been hard living down that you saw someone no else believed existed, especially after your mental breakdown in the hall years earlier.

Kids tended to be cruel, and teenagers even moreso. 

That particular day, some classmates followed you in the halls, calling you names, making jokes behind your back, their snide remarks etching more and more into you like ice being chipped away by a pick. You kept your face low, reasoning that if you just ignored them they would stop. 

They didn’t. 

For nearly five hours you endured their cruel words with no remarks of your own until finally you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You were so upset and enraged by everyone's taunting laughs that you took the scalpel from the Biology lab and sliced down your arms. 

In your head, the man in black had saved you in the pond. 

Surely he would save you again, here, in front of everyone. 

They would see, they would all know- that he was real, just as you always said. 

But two days later when you woke up in the psych ward of the hospital strapped to the bed, you drew up the painful realization that everyone had been right. The man in black was, in fact, all in your head. 

It all led you here, to this exact moment, in this exact place, facing Dr. Banner and telling him something to get through the session as you had done for years now. "It's not that I think he’ll hurt me, it's just that… Even though I know he's not there, it's like I can't…" You brought your fingers up to your chest, urging your heart to slow down. It was hard putting how you felt to words, because truthfully, you didn’t know. "I've been seeing him so long. I used to beg him to talk to me, to talk to my mom, to let everyone know he was there, but he never did. I think I'm just afraid if I tell him to leave..." you glanced up through your lashes.

Banner nodded understandingly. "You'd miss him." 

Hearing it out loud sounded so ludicrous you cringed. “He's familiar, " you reasoned. 

"Well, you've seen him since the pond incident, so I can understand you wanting to hold onto some remnants of that. You thought he was your protector. But, you realize now he's not real. I'm real. Your mother’s real. Anna’s real. We are a part of your support group, we are who you can come to in crisis. Not the man in black."

You looked down at your hands, having heard all of this before, and let out a simple, "Yeah." 

"Y/n, I'm going to make a suggestion. Do you think that you could stay in the hospital a few days?" Your eyes widened, horrified at the thought of being in the psych ward again Seing your anxiety, Banner quickly backtracked, "It wouldn't be like last time, this time it would be purely for investigating these problems you're having. I have a colleague that has ran some basic neurological trials for patients dealing with similar cases of PTSD and I think it could be beneficial in your case, perhaps even-"

"I don't want to stay in a hospital," you cut him off. 

As ill as everyone treated you, as crazy as you appeared, you couldn't take a hospital stay, it was just too much. 

Banner leaned towards you, laying his hand across yours. "It's common for people who have gone through traumatic events to lock onto something that may have given them security. For you that was the man in black. In your child-mind, it was easy to take this imaginary person and put them into your life as a safety net. You gave him this story, that he saved you from drowning, like a guardian angel as you used to put it. But as that manifested into something… troubling, now you know how important it is to focus on reality. I know moving on is difficult but that's a part of this whole process, y/n. The neurology aspect just gives us a little more insight. What I mean is, it’s possible there was actual brain damage done during your… incident that could cause these hallucinations.” There was no change in your reserve and the good doctor sighed. “But if you're not willing to do it now, I won't make you." When you didn't look up, he offered, "Maybe, rather than tell him he's not real, tell him he's no longer needed anymore. You're strong, y/n, you don't need to hold onto imaginary saviors. You just need to let yourself see how much you can do when you believe in yourself-"

And just like that, an hour flew by with more of Dr. Banner's wisdom and finally you were allowed the sweet release of freedom. 

When you walked back to the lobby, Earl was already at the registration desk talking to Stacy. She gave you a short wave while you walked passed them out the door. Anna and your mother were already sitting in the car to hide from the rain, your sister face deep in her screen. You slid into the back seat without a word when she asked, “How’d it go?” 

You quirked a brow. “Fine?”

“Good.”

“Good?” 

“Good,” she nodded, leaving you more confused.

Your mother turned in her seat, beaming over at the two of you. “You gonna ask your sister about tonight?” she pressed Anna, who took in the most dramatic sigh and eye roll you had ever seen. 

“Tom said his dad is letting him throw a party tonight, but Earl said the only way I can go is if you go.” 

She wasn’t particularly beggy but you could tell by the wideness in her eyes that she was begging you to be a normal older sister and help a girl out. Just then, your step dad slammed his door and started pulling out of the parking lot. 

“I wouldn’t know any of those kids-”

“You would know his older brother, he graduated with your class-”

You scoffed as obnoxiously as possible, leaning back in your seat to look out the window. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard no.” 

Just as Anna was about to start her signature ‘Why is the world against me, my life is garbage, I hate my family’ spiel, you saw the glint in Earl’s eye in the rear view mirror. 

Of course he didn’t want Anna to go out, he knew you wouldn’t agree to see anyone who would recognize you from school. 

Feeling a fire burn in your gut, you cut your eyes in her direction. “You know what, on second thought, that sounds cool. I’m in.” 

Earl mumbled a few curses while shooting you ugly looks in the mirror while Anna gave you a hollow thanks. 

Turning away from everyone, you watched the rain dance down the window to the tunes of the radio’s static. 

Once the car went into park outside of your apartment complex, you darted to the door through the rain. Anna followed suit, rushing your mom while she tried to juggle her purse and massive umbrella to search for her keys. She unlocked the door and your sister barged in past her while Earl stepped around, nearly making her drop her things. You took her umbrella from her hands while she fumbled with her bag some more. 

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” she whispered you with a weak smile and tired eyes. 

Looking away, you folded the umbrella and set it outside the door to dry, ready to lay down in your bed. Catching you just before you made it to your room, your mother stopped you with a fistfull of pills. 

You frowned. “You know if I take that, I'll pass out-”

“Dr. Banner wants you taking these three times a day to help with the… uh…”

“Hallucinations,” Earl cut in from the living room where he had already set up in front of the TV. Your eyes narrowed in his direction but  took the meds without another word. 

“Don’t forget about the party,” Anna made sure to remind you before you closed your door. “I wanna leave here at six.” 

You threw her a thumbs up, closed the door, and leaned back against it to take a breath. Five deep, calming breaths to help ease your nerves was something Banner had introduced you to,and though you hated to admit it, there were some soothing qualities to it, especially after dealing with your family. 

Feeling a bit of tension release it’s hold on you, your eyes opened to your bedroom. It wasn’t much, but you appreciated your own space too much to care. Thick doubled curtains hung over the windows that lined either side of your bed, where a blue quilt and pillows were tossed around in constant chaos. Other than the bed, you had one particle board dresser and an old liquor crate you used as a night stand. Along the generically tan-painted walls, you had hung posters of your favorite bands like AC/DC, Metallica, and Motley Crue. 

Three things about your room were guaranteed: first, your floor was always spotless, second, your room was never childish, and third, you kept it dark. 

Why?

Because you never knew when you would have a visitor. 

It was a conscious thing you always had in the back of your mind, that no matter the time of day or what you were doing, the man in black could appear at any moment. 

And while others would leave every light in their house on and not concern themselves with appearances, you practically left open the proverbial front door, hoping to see him again in the same way as when you were a child. 

A real person.

It was a sick thing you’d never admit to another soul, but you wanted to see him so bad that you basically gave him an open invitation. 

Face planting into the softness of your mattress, you buried yourself in the blanket and soaked up the dark stillness of your room. Taking a few more relaxing breaths, you rolled onto your side, wrapping your arms and legs around one of your thicker pillows. You drifted off to sleep. 

It was hours later when you started stirring, at first stretching out your limbs and arching your back. But as your eyes opened, you inhaled sharply at the sight of the man in black standing in the corner of your room. 

Just as the times before, he was a blurred copy of a person, a dark stain in space with his face an empty white void. Your breath became shaky while you kept your eyes on him, afraid if you looked away he would vanish.

Or get closer. 

Swallowing, you slowly raised yourself on the bed. 

Do you ask him to speak like you had done the countless other times he appeared?

Or did you do your exercises from Dr. Banner and tell him you don’t need him?

The choice was taken from you when Anna knocked abruptly with the reminder, "Don't forget we have plans!" 

 "I didn't forget, I'm getting up," you called out blankly, disappointed at the disruption. The man in black was gone and once you checked your phone, you realized it was time to get ready to leave. 

With an unenthused grumble, you rolled off the softness onto the cold hard floor. 

You opted to change clothes, choosing a black Metallica shirt with denim shorts. Still hearing the rain pouring outside your window, you grabbed your hoodie and slipped into your flip flops. 

Catching your reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door, you wrinkled your nose at the plainness of your face. Walking out into the hall, you slipped unnoticed into the only bathroom in the apartment, quietly clicking the door shut. You opened up the vanity drawer and started digging at different things until finally coming up with a halfway decent makeup job. Heavy eyeliner, mascara and dark lipstick were as far as you got before Anna threw open the door. She was dressed in a lacey, spaghetti strapped romper that exposed the mauve bralette she wore underneath. 

“Awesome, you’re ready, let’s go. Earl finished his first twelve pack and I'm ready to get out before it has time to settle.” 

Leaning out the door, your eyes cocked towards the balding spectacle of a man laid back in the recliner in front of the TV. Making a sick face, you agreed, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.” The two of you grabbed up your things and made it to the door until you realized the car key wasn’t on the key holder. “Shit!” 

Anna’s shoulders stiffened, then relaxed again at the sight of your mother walking out of her room. “Hey, mom, keys?” she mouthed dramatically though only whispers came out. 

She nodded with a large grin, retreating into her room to reappear moments later with the keyring. Quietly handing it off to Anna, not you, she wished you both a nice evening and reminded you to stay safe and keep up with your phones. 

The two of you quietly left the apartment and piled into the car, with Anna plopping down into the driver’s seat. “I can drive,” you mumbled, though Anna raised a brow. 

“You’re not supposed to drive cause of your meds and I ain’t gonna die tonight.” 

Rolling your eyes, you slid into the passenger seat, leaning all the way back and closing your eyes. “Then by all means.” 

Watching from the laid back position, you saw the buildings fade away as more trees popped up into view. Tom’s home was just outside town in the suburbs in one of the nicer subdivisions. The houses started spacing out more and more as the homes got larger and larger before finally arriving at a house that seemed too big for any normal sized family. Several cars were already outside when Anna pulled the car up to the curve. 

Before she could kill the engine, you told her, “Well this has been fun, but I’m gonna take off.”

“What? We just got here?” 

Your nose crinkled in the direction of the house as you answered, “Look, it was nice of you to think of me, but I don’t wanna hang out with you kids. I’m gonna go find something else to do.” 

Looking down at her hands, you saw something shift in your sister’s expression, something you hadn’t noticed in a long time. Sympathy. “Look, about what I said earlier, you know I don’t think you’re a freak right?” She looked back up to meet your gaze, her eyes glassed over. “And my friends, they’re not jerks, they’re not gonna be mean to you. Why don’t you come in, you might actually enjoy yourself.” 

There was no changing your mind, you knew you didn’t want to be here. Offering her a head tilt and sideways grin, you shot back, “I know, Anna. I just feel like being alone right now.” 

“Okay. But you aren’t taking the car.” 

You sucked on your teeth, making a smacking noise then climbed out, sighing just before you closed the door. 

"Y/n, if you change your mind?"

You didn't look back, simply waved your hand. As you started down the sidewalk. There was no doubt in your mind that you didn't want to be at that party, not even a small inkling that you wanted to be around those people. 

Besides, if you were alone, there was always that chance you'd see Him again. 

It hadn't been twenty minutes until you came to a bench at a small intersection. Pulling the phone from your pocket, you started aimlessly scrolling through social media.

*****

It had been several hours and you had made it through three accounts, dug two years deep into one person's life (by accident of course) and even read through emails on an account you only owned to have accounts on other websites, you were ready to be done with the night. 

Stretching out your legs, you realized how stiff you had gotten. 

"Alright, I'm done with this," you texted your sister, "It's time to go home." 

Closing your phone, you were just about to slip it in your pocket when a strange sound cut through the air. You froze in place, narrowing your eyes down one of the incoming streets. It was the sound of tires screeching down the road, music from a radio blaring with unrecognizable lyrics through the night. 

Rolling your eyes at yet another display of idiocracy of man, you went to start back towards where you left your sister. Ignoring the truck, you went on down the street a little further, your mind idling back to your appointment with Dr. Banner earlier. It wasn't the first time he had mentioned going inpatient with a neurologist to try and see if your trauma could be linked to some sort something, you didn't know what, but maybe more physical than psychological. It was an interesting theory, but in truth the idea of being in a hospital for any period of time didn't show any appeal whatsoever. 

Your mind was a million galaxies away, oblivious to the world, only to come crashing down at the sound of a purring  engine rolling up behind you. Still, you kept your pace and tried to ignore it. 

After another few minutes, you had to fight the urge to turn around. 

Until you heard a familiar voice catcall through the night. 

"Hey, sweet cheeks, ya lookin lonely without soldier boy hanging around." 

The blood in your veins turned to ice and your stomach flipped inside your guts. The unmistakable sound of Ajax calling out was too horrific to imagine. 

Not here. 

Not now. 

It was so late at night you couldn't be certain anyone else would be passing by and your sister still hadn't answered your text. 

"Suga lips, I know you hear me." 

The truck was rolling steady right behind you but you kept walking, kept your eyes straight ahead. 

 That is, until it stopped and the distinct click of a door opening made you turn around by instinct. That's when you saw there were other men, not just Ajax, leering at you through the tinted windshield, but it was he who had hopped out and was starting towards you. 

"Hey, come on now, I just wanna talk," he started, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about about that mouth of yours…"

"Yeah, come on chicken legs, why don't you let us give you a tide," another man added, followed by the animalistic cracked from others in the truck. 

Frowning, you couldn't stop the roll of your eyes or tilt of your head, turning back to walk on your way. You hoped that would be enough to deter him, to show him you weren’t scared, while also helping you put more distance between you. 

You didn't recognize. The sound of footsteps speeding your way, not in as quick as it happened. The unexpected bash to the back of your head was too hard, too swift, it knocked you out before your body even collided with the concrete. 

*****

"Y/n?" 

A gentle voice called out your name, both foreign and familiar. It was gone before you could discern it, though it didn't feel of any consequence. 

Opening your eyes, the sky above you was a brilliant blue with just the right amount of white, clouds streaming through the atmosphere. Around your body, you could feel water flowing gently to guide you down a river. 

It was rather abruptly that the water began to become rapid. Turning you one way and another. At first it was gentle enough, but steadily it began to toss you back and forth. Your body rocked back and forth, never allowing you control yourself to try and swim to safety. 

Through the air, the voice came again, more abruptly and alert. 

“Y/n!” 

*****

Your eyes popped open with your heart pounding. This wasn’t a river you were flowing down, there was no blue sky or peaceful scenery. The strange sensation of being tossed around by rapids was actually the struggle of two men you didn’t recognize pulling your limp body in two directions. 

That’s when you realized what was happening. 

They were removing your bottoms. 

Wasting no more time, your body jerked as you moved past the stinging on the back of your head, taking them men off guard and managing to get dropped onto the hard ground, but not at the loss of your shorts. Your bare thighs scraped against rocks and dirt as you scrambled to your feet. 

All you could make out was they had brought you somewhere away from the neighborhood you were once in, the only thing remnant of civilization the cheaply laid dirt road they had pulled off of. There were several tall trees blocking the night sky and moon, the only light you had from the truck’s headlights. 

Barely making it five feet, you felt wide arms wrap around your waist and jerk you backwards. 

“Let me go!” you screamed, kicking, scratching, and slapping at whatever had taken hold of you. 

“Feisty bitch, aren’t you?” the man commented, throwing you backwards against the hard ground. You landed with a hard thud on your shoulder before trying again to get to your feet. 

A foot came forward and caught you in the stomach, violently knocking the air out of you to the point of gagging. 

“Holy shit,” you could distinguish as Axel spoke up. A hand came down and lifted your head up by your hair, “Who would have thought the quiet crazy girl would put up such a fight!” 

Your eyes were watery when you opened them, desperately pleading, “Please, don’t-” 

A hard set of knuckles met your cheek, your being the only thing keeping you from collapsing back against the ground like you were simply a boxing bag. 

The warmth of blood trickling down your face and strong smell of iron made your nauseous on top of the pain in your stomach. 

“Shit, I think you broke her nose!” a man laughed. 

Ajax’s free hand came around to inspect your cheek, turning your face so he could get a better look. “Nah, she’s aight, aren’t you sweet cheeks? But, maybe I need to call you something else now?” Another series of cackles rang out. “Aight, so, are you gonna play nice, baby? I hate to have to lick you ‘gain, but you can’t be whining, don’t nobody want to hear that.” 

 There was no controlling your sobbing, even at fear of getting hit again. The pain in your face and body was excruciating, unlike anything you had ever felt. The shatter of your nose cartilage and crunch of your lower ribs were enough to make your whole body convulse, adding to the horror of your reality. 

 But even as your eyes flooded with tears, you managed to make out a disillusioned being lurking just beyond the trees, a light glow of green forming around it. 

Your chest thudded. 

Not looking back at the men shuffling around you, you called out the only defense you could muster. “Help me!” you hollard frantically. “I know you’re there, I believe in you, I know you’re real, PLEASE!” The knuckles came against your face again, this time catching your in the ear. All you could hear was a distortion of ringing, but you didn’t let that stop you, looking back to the woods where you could see the glow, you called out again, “Please, please! Help me!”

You could hardly even hear the men laughing at your desperation, commenting amongst themselves as you pleaded with seemingly empty space to come to your rescue. The hand holding your hair released you, allowing your body to slink to the ground, exhausted, as each man began to undo their belt buckles. 

“Please,” you whispered quietly, keeping your eyes closed tight, certain of what would come next, “Please, save me.” 

A wind picked up, just enough to send a chill through the air that sent a shiver down your spine and caused the men to halt in their spot, just before a disembodied voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. “If you truly wish it, I will come.”

The headlights behind you shattered, startling you so badly that the only thing your torn body could do was pull together in the fetal position on your knees. Managing to keep yourself from screaming, you closed your eyes and shed several more teardrops. 

If you weren't looking, if you were still, if you were quiet, maybe whatever had occurred would simply ceist. 

Maybe, just maybe, if you prayed hard enough, everything that was happening would simply end.

Another second passed and nothing else happened, leaving you with nothing that could be done but open your eyes to whatever was unfolding. You lost all breath at the sight of two large boots standing in front of your own bare feet. You were unable to breathe, unable to think, at the sound of a distinctive voice cutting through the air, “But be careful what you ask for, pet.”

The man in black had actually come.

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[bigskydreaming]

LOL so I’m gonna say something that a lot of people are gonna HATE, because of what it does to the usually preferred canons or headcanons of how Dick goes to live with Bruce after his parents die.

But there is one more reason that I prefer the juvie origin for Dick, beyond what I’ve said in the past, and its that....

There is no possible way for Dick to go straight to living with a single billionaire in his early twenties RIGHT after his parents died, or even just a week or two after that....unless Bruce abused the FUCK out of the system himself, in order to get Dick in his house.

And I don’t see any reason why Bruce would go to the lengths of bribes or calling in ‘favors’ that would be needed to expedite the OBSCENE amount of bureaucratic red tape he would need to navigate before any judge would let him become a minor’s sole guardian - especially considering he undoubtedly had no paperwork or had undergone any of the interviews or visitations or hoops demanded of prospective foster parents BEFORE they take in their first kid....

Unless he really truly had reason to believe that every viable alternative to him greasing the wheels like he HAD to have, in order to get Dick there with any kind of swiftness.....like, I honestly don’t see a mid-twenties Bruce Wayne, with his myriad of issues and his own self-image, honestly thinking that he’s SUCH a better candidate for taking care of this traumatized eight year old kid that he’s going to cut any corner he possibly can to speed up the process....unless he was utterly convinced the alternatives were so much worse.

Like say, if he found out that the system had decided the best thing for Dick was to be tossed into juvie.

I mean....the process for fostering a kid, becoming a legal guardian, ANY which way you go about that....its not as simple as just, signing a few papers. No matter WHO you are, UNLESS you leverage that ‘who you are’ bit to get people to step on the gas to a degree far beyond anything they’re supposed to allow. 

It takes TIME. 

And even in scenarios wherein Bruce takes Dick in as a kind of witness protection while Zucco is on the loose - first off, that’s far more unrealistic than even the juvie take because like....the police HAVE protocols for that sort of thing. They don’t just hand over a kid to the first civilian who steps up and volunteers.

Honestly, the canons and headcanons where Bruce just ‘arranges’ for Dick to come stay with him almost immediately after his parents’ murder....like, they honestly skeeve me even more than the juvie thing, because of how matter of fact people are about it? Y’know? Like nobody seems to see anything wrong with the idea that a billionaire just, with zero prior experience or qualifications just says “oh I’ll take this boy home with me” and everybody goes “yes sir, well you’re a billionaire so if you want him, you got him,” like....it treats Dick like a toy. That’s not how things work, and its not how things SHOULD work....and most importantly IMO, I can’t fathom Bruce thinking that he’s the best option for Dick to such a degree that he’d break all the rules in order to get custody that fast. For that matter, if he really could arrange all that, in spite of the way the process is supposed to go, then shouldn’t it beg the question “why couldn’t Bruce pull similar strings to ensure Dick could stay with the circus, the people there who clearly loved him and wanted him to stay?”

And honestly, I kinda feel like the way people have reduced that whole process to the shorthand of “well Bruce is the good guy and we know with the benefit of hindsight that he’s Dick’s dad in every way that counts, so of course Dick has to end up living with him, so why NOT quicken the process to just a few days”....like, I feel like that actually contributes a lot, albeit unintentionally, to this tendency to take Dick for granted both in universe and out of universe, because it lends this air of like...’only the destination matters, the end result.’ Which is usually how Dick gets screwed in most cases....because people only ever look at the end result of his stories, the last position he ends up with...and completely fail to consider any of the steps in between that happened along the way, and all the things that might have happened alongside each of those steps, that lends important context to his final position in a given story.

Like this idea that well Dick has to end up with Bruce, that’s the part that matters, so its not really all that important how or why.....I feel like that really has a lot to do with how it so often gets just accepted at face value that Dick’s the one in the wrong for keeping his distance from Bruce at later points in life, or for leaving the manor, or for digging in his heels with stuff....because it all loops back into this mindset that “everyone knows Bruce loves Dick, the best place for Dick is in the manor with Bruce, ergo, everything else - like how he comes to live with Bruce or his reasons for storming out of the manor - are semantics, irrelevant details, etc.”

Except...they’re not.

And so again, as an example like....you can’t really just cut out the entire process of Dick coming to live with Bruce...because it really, truly, EXTREMELY doesn’t make SENSE for Bruce to get custody that fast without having SOME kind of leverage.....and it similarly doesn’t make SENSE for him to think he’s so clearly the most qualified person to take in this traumatized kid (no matter how much he empathized with him), that he would circumvent the system he USUALLY is so militaristic about upholding as much as he possibly can, while still being a vigilante. And that last bit sure doesn’t feel in character for Bruce, from that particular angle.

UNLESS.

Unless he’d discovered the system had MASSIVELY FUCKED UP with Dick, and he no longer trusted it with him whatsoever....and so THEN he took matters into his own hands, and did whatever necessary to get custody of Dick ASAP - realistically helped along by the MASSIVE leverage Bruce would have had at his disposal if he threatened to publicize what they’d done to this eight year old orphan.

THAT, to me, feels far more realistic, and far more in character for Bruce....and it at no point takes for granted any of Dick’s own personal journey along the way, or renders it irrelevant or an unnecessary detail.

Idk, maybe its just me, but I’ve always been super uncomfortable with the level of detail fandom puts into fleshing out Jason and Tim’s backstories (and with precedent established by his taking in Dick, any of his later kids would have had very expedited custody arrangements....but that makes it MORE likely that the FIRST kid and the process of gaining custody of him would include hoops that later kids’ stories wouldn’t), while at the same time, hollowing out Dick’s origin story to a barebones outline of ‘well his parents died and then this and this happened and then he lived with Bruce and became Robin and happily ever after until he hit his teenage years and developed an attitude problem.’

Like, there’s just something very....unsettling about how much fandom has romanticized the idea that this billionaire with a quite frankly TERRIBLE public reputation, like this is a guy who has DEDICATED himself to appearing totally irresponsible as far as the rest of the world can tell.....and just....being like ‘oh hey, no big deal about this guy of all guys just being like hey I see you have an eight year old orphan there, howzabout I take him off your hands for you’...and fandom’s like....swoon. Y’know? I mean yes, WE know Bruce is a superhero, WE know that years of cute Batman and Robin and father and son bonding would lie ahead of those two after that.....but...ANY scenario in which Gotham is like....yeah we see no problems with just letting Brucie Wayne take a traumatized orphan home to live in his big old manor with him....like..yeah. 

I mean, even as I’m typing this out, I’m thinking that yeah, there is something to be said for streamlining the process in the name of escapism, so that there’s a smoother, easier transition for this poor kid and he doesn’t have to go through so much.....BUT like at the same time, its one thing when we’re talking cute fluff stories and others when the angst is clearly a focal point of the story and yet the story STILL romanticizes this....Daddy Warbucks swoops in to save little Orphan Annie and like, this is definitively treated as like....nobody should be raising objections to this or being like wait a second....

Because the latter feels less like its being done in the name of escapism and more, like....in that sense I was talking about where it all loops back to how often Dick gets reduced to a prop within his own narratives like...things happen because they HAVE to happen, not because like....he’s a person going through things that inform the choices he makes and the things that happen from there, yknow?

Or maybe its one of those things where its like....I feel like that story is one that’s meant for a different time, at this point? Like, there WAS a time when the billionaire swooping in to take the poor orphan off to live in a manor was the kind of escapism people were looking for, but we do live in a different time now where I think most of us would agree like...wait, a decision that big deserves more than being treated like the billionaire just stops in to shop around for an orphan to accessorize with, kinda?

Idk, I feel like I’m not explaining this well, the precise reasons this disturbs me so much, which is why I’ve never posted about this particular angle before, but its been on my mind a lot lately, so maybe it makes more sense than I think it does here? LOL.

*Shrugs* Idk, I just honestly do feel in the long run and in the big picture, Dick’s personhood is ironically better preserved in the scenario where he was definitively stripped of it by an uncaring system and thrown into the last place he should’ve been....with Bruce then, upon discovering this, moving heaven and hell to see that personhood or awareness of personhood, more accurately, restored to Dick, no matter what it took, even if he had to do it himself. Because again, I also think that there’s a heeeeell of a lot of hubris in Bruce thinking that he was equipped to care for this kid right off the bat....and its not even that I don’t think he is (because I think Bruce really was a good father to Dick in their early years, and the majority of their problems arose later, when Bruce was unable to reconcile that this kid he’d once thought himself so alike to was growing into a man with his own ideas and choices that Bruce couldn’t understand or relate to). 

Again, I think its more that I don’t truly see BRUCE actually having that degree of confidence that he’s truly a good fit for taking care of Dick, not being more worried that all his issues and his focus as Batman would be a deterrent....unless he had an external kick in the ass that made him feel like no, I don’t trust this job to anyone else at this point, so I HAVE to be up to the task myself, its that simple.

[thisuserhasoriginalideas]

(Still nameless project) Character and Species master post

Soo how some might have noticed I am working on an original Idea for a comic and this will be my Character master post which I will add to whenever I got a new addition for the cast.

The premise of the story basically some aliens going on an adventure to find earth and join a supposed interplanetary peaceful conglomeration because they caught a transmission of an old cheesy and corny scifi series (ala star trek or well early Perry Rhodan when you actually know that novel series you get a free smooch from me)

The Lophorel and the Narlaha

Those are the first Species to be introduced and well the ones where the original three crew members will start off .

For demonstration purposes I include a pic of the parents of the first three bc I still need to make a general species guide for them lol

(From left to right: Shejeren, Noroph'a, Uruphija'l, Charalah I will give some short specific info about them later lol)

Both species share one planet which is the second in their solar system and has three moons orbiting around it.

The Lophorel are native to surface of the planet and usually have a skin color ranging from very light blues to dark purples. They have gem like growths on their heads which is surrounded by a skin covered bone structure which either is build like an ark or a row of lill spikes. They have pointy ears and their bigger eyes have octagonal pupils which form a cross when constricted. Usually their Iris has the same color as their gem and their Sclera is black, in rare cases there can be mutations of color tho. With their eyes they can perceive a wide array of colors and even some elektro magnetic phenomena in their environment but they are pretty much blind in low light situations. They usually wear longer hair (short hair is seen as obscene in their culture) in different braided styles. While white hair is the most common hair color in their species there are also variants of reddish browns that can occur. They aren't very strong however but do to their legs agile and good at jumping. Height wise they can get from 1,60 m (5' 2'')up to 1,90 m (6' 2'') They are generally hermaphrodites and don't have naval  due to laying eggs. They use the terms Eren (Seedgiver) and Ophat (shellcarrier) to adresse their parents and it occurs that siblings from the same parent pair use diffrent terms for addressing the same parent. They also number their children with the last sibille of their name so for example having 'rel' at the end of a name means that it is the first hatched child YEP I gonne write a language guid later someday lol . While being omnivore they have developed a distaste to eating meat and as a culture live mostly vegetarian.

The Narlaha are used to live mostly under the surface of the planet and are often called Nipht by the Lophorel which is similar to calling someone and earthworm. In turn the Narlaha call the Lophorel Kar'alarf which literally means stone-head. They are significantly smaller than their surface dwelling neighbors and only get around 1,50 m (4' 9''). They have four arms and are significantly physically stronger. Due to their carnivore nature and history of hunting they have sharp claws and teeth and usually a very dark grey skin completion mixed with red markings which makes them blend in with their stone surroundings. Their four eyes are one tones and most of the time their eye colors range from white grayish to red. They may only see the world in reddish and green tones but they have excellent vision in dark areas. The bone structure on their head helps them sensing vibrations from their surroundings. They are more like us humans when it comes to their genders and sexualities soo no big explanation here. But they don't really have their own names instead a family name is given from the chosen parent to the child with either a 'lah'(born female), 'ren'(born male), 'len' (born intersex) at the end depending on the biological sex they are born with. Also they tend to have brown to black hair only sometimes they mutate blond hair. Also there are albinos I'm the Species

In the history of their species they obviously didn't get along very well most of the time so after a view wars the Lophorel sadly established a trend of enslaving the Narlaha bc the Lophorel (having the advantage of not limited airspace) were technology more advanced than the Narlaha, who due to limited space couldn't build respected deferenses against the most of the time vibration based attacks of the Lophorel. While the violent ages of this planet are now gone both their cultures got so accustomed to the practice of slavery that there are barely any objectors on both sides of the coin. Still during the events of the story there some thing about to be changed lol.

And now off to a few words to the named characters above. They are as stated the Parents to the first three crew members of the story. Noroph'a is a rich space miner that makes his living with deploying mining ships to other planets of their solar system. They married the way less fortunate Uruphija'l due to practicality and the wish to produce taller offspring (They are a little insecure about their height). Both of them are rather strict and caught up in outdated social rules. After they conceived their first egg they bought Shejeren and Charalah bc they also were expecting a child and Noroph'a wanted their offspring to grow up with an always present play buddy bc he also grew up with a Narlaha play mate. After Charalah gave birth to a little baby daughter (Shejelah) She and her husband were kept as bodyguards for the two Lophorels while a third Narlaha took care of Shejelah and the now also hatched Ala'phrel.(Charalah and Shejeren already had a older child Chararen who at this point already worked in a diffrent household [Narlaha children get independent pretty quickly]). In general where the two Narlahas pretty happy to have landed in Noroph'a's household because their new daughter now had the privilege to get the basics of a good high tier education together with Noroph'a's offsprings which would mean that she could later find a home as a home preschool teacher which is considered a honorable position for a  Narlaha. Noroph'a  and Uruphija’l had one more child (Nirlaph) and even tho Shejeren and Charalah tried to also conceive again Shejelah stayed the only young Narlaha in the household. 

On to the important peeps

(From left to right Nirlaph, Ala’phrel, Shejelah)

Growing up together the three established a strong bond and even tho it was planed to send Shejelah away as she got old enough to be sold off again Ala’phrel and Nirlaph both protested against their parents wishes and kept Shejelah around. This is partially because when they were younger and first got to have tech based toys the three of them build a simple signal receiver which accidentally lead them to catch an old transmission of a show called "Captain Jacks search through the stars" which depicted a utopian society without racism and slavery. They didn't understand a word of what was said in the show but the depiction of different races (even tho they were suspiciously similar in general looks) working together seemingly without race hierarchy fascinated the three kids to such an extend that they from there on strived to one-day be able to meet Captain Jack and his Crew and join their ranks. They over time established a translation of the alien language and made it their own. Learned all principles which Captain Jack resided as foundation of the peaceful planets conglomeration and started studying all skills need to actually fly a space ship.

Even tho the three kids treated each other as equals the older they got the more Shejelah had to oblige to the house rules, meaning she had to adapt to the servant clothing, had to learn formal speaking rules and wasn't allowed to speak without spoken to in general. While she did conform to those rules to some degree the suppressed aggression against them lead to her having a very strange relationship with human swear words. She really likes to sprinkling them in when she has the opportunity to speak freely. In general she seem to be a rather reserved individual (despite the swearword occasionally slipping out) but that's just as long as she doesn't trusts you. At times she seems to be just a tad sassy which is a way for her to handel her insecurities about her social status and her struggle to actually  come forward with requests  regarding herself, bringing her ideas forward or just simply saying ‘no’ to a request. It is very important to her to be able to choose her own clothing and she often will change her outfits as she sees fit just because being forced to wear a unified and dull outfit for most of her life evoked a desire of outward expression of herself in her. So even tho she dawns a version of the uniform they have seen the crew members of captain Jack wear she  will take her own spin on them and  proudly wears her own creations. She wears an open nose ring to honer her upbringing as slave and symbolize her now found freedom. Shejelah is often called just Jelah by her two friend after  seeing the crew members of Jack using Nicknames for each other, while this is a shorter version of her name it also means ‘brain’ in an ancient language of the  Lophorel. And indeed a brain she is, not just having the strength of her species  Shejelah is quite smart and has a high interests in quantum physics and chemistry. She will often work together with Nirlaph, who has a interests into engineering to invent and upgrade all sorts of gadgets and knickknacks.   Speaking of Nirlaph (Nick: Nor translatable with ‘fluffy chicken’) they are non a less brilliant but suffer a severe case of being skittish and uncertain. As the younger sibling they often had to live to the standards the older one leid down first  and while they are in many aspects superior to their sibling the stress of being held up to already high standards got to them at a young age. So while they are capable of being  brilliant and an absolute genius their anxiety and stage fright often hold them back. So more often then not they tend to overthink decisions and either screw something up in the execution do to the anxiety or just not doing it at all even tho deep down they know they should have. They still don’t hold a grudge against their older sibling to the contrary they heavily rely on the fare more outgoing and intuitive  Ala’phrel to pull them for Support and to just pull them against  through it. But other than  Ala’phrel and Shejelah they prefer to keep to them selves  often working in the dead of the night and in secret  on their projects  to avoid the awkwardness that brings working under the public eye. But also he refuses to give their  and Shejelah’s brilliant invention to a society that wouldn’t even acknowledge Shejelah’s part in them  which they think is way greater than their part in them. So even if both of their work could have revolutionized the space travel of their society they keep their inventions a secret which will later be to their advantage. But well without  Ala’phrel the trio wouldn’t get to the point where they will find them selves.  Ala’phrel is bold, charismatic and understands how to get their way. They are the driving force behind the whole story dragging the other two further  into the right direction. While lacking the brilliant and deep understanding of the scientific backgrounds  their bordering on delusional positive attitude and admiration of the concepts  they have seen in the show keeps them all moving forward. Ala’phrel isn’t shy of justifying controversial actions ( like stealing a ship from their parents) with the greater  intention behind them which sometimes leads to further trouble they need to deal with together with their friends which more often than not build the perfect contra weight to  Ala’phrel ‘s at times insane schemes. They definitely are a bit too much obsessed with captain Jack and his crew and them being real so you could say they are a super fan. But in the end they have good intentions even tho they lack the experience they always try to do the best for their friend and for themselves.

[billyboyblue]

Superbat and #20 for the writing prompts, please. 😁

Wasn’t sure if you wanted the Fluff or the Smut 20 so i flipped a coin. lol. I could always do the other if that’s the one you meant! haha.

So sorry if this isn’t smutty like at all. lol. I’ll actually continue this later with the sexy parts, promise.

Superbat~ Fuck you/ I’m up for it, if you are.

***

Clark was raised right. He was polite, always tried to be considerate of others and their feelings. Never said anything if he didn’t have anything nice to say and always helped with the dishes after dinners. That’s how his mama raised him and he was quite proud of his down home attitude. He couldn’t help his Kansas smiles and twanging lilt when he was comfortable and relaxed.

Well he was not comfortable now. He was most certainly as uncomfortable as a person could be. Bruce was practically fuming, the only tell of which was his ticking and clenching jaw, which, to the rest of the league might as well have been a neon sign spelling out Batman’s absolute lack of patience.

“The entirely of the mission rests on this reconnaissance. Perhaps sending the most inexperienced, loudest, most destructive member isn’t the brightest of ideas.” Bruce said as he continued to stare Clark down from across the table. His lips were curled into a smirk and Clark was seriously considering how hard he’d have to blow to knock him out of his chair while still seeming like an accident. a thought he immediately felt guilty over. 

Though the look in Bruce’s eye said he knew exactly what Clark was thinking anyway.

“I can hear a whisper from miles away. I think I can handle a dinner party. Gothamites don’t actually have a trademark on those do they? Seeing as it’s all the elite do in this town.” 

Diana’s smile at the head of the table was poorly hidden and Arthur’s gaze shooting back and forth between them was barely ignored. Barry’s wide eyed stare was probably what should have clued Clark in that he needed to calm the situation, but unfortunately that went completely ignored. 

and how do you expect to infiltrate the star lab systems? Or retrieve the data that the techs received from the Galwat system? If we’re dealing with intergalactic meddling on earth we need to know what they have and how they plan to use it. Do you have a complete understanding of how to hack a level seven security system? because with Victor off world we’ll need someone who can do that the old fashioned way. Or was your plan to simply punch the keyboard until it spilled the beans?” Bruce wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He had already turned to Barry, who was still wide eyed and half scared of the tension.

a tension Clark could feel in his shoulders now. That Bruce still thought of him as a muscle headed small town good boy was more than a little infuriating. Also just the tiniest bit insulting as he thought that he and Bruce had been on the up and up lately. getting along and working together well enough. It was frustrating that he’d somehow gotten knocked down a peg or two on the Batman Respect list. 

and frankly, after a year of working together you’d believe Clark would make some leeway in that respect. From Clark’s side, working wit Bruce was amazing. he was focused and supernaturally prepared for just about anything. He was organized and his detective skills were simply unparalleled. his grouchy moods were almost comforting to Clark now, if Bruce was grumpy all was well in the world. That is until recently.

Until recently Clark would have been at the top of the list for this recon. he wouldn’t have been questioned as he volunteered. Until recently Bruce would have looked at him and nodded once in agreement that Clark was the best choice for the mission. until recently, Clark had felt that the moments of trust and companionship had become more solid and sustainable between he and Bruce. Apparently he had been mistaken.

The infinitesimally short instances of something else. Of something unspoken and deeper and much hotter than the casual banter that usually filled their interactions were also snuffed out. Now when Clark’s eyes strayed down to Bruce’s lips, he more than often caught them curling in distaste. 

And now that barely simmering distaste was spilling over into League business and a heart stung Clark was over it. 

“You know what, Bruce?” Clark spoke, voice steel hard.

“Okay, everyone out!” Diana announced before he could continue. Barry was gone before she finished her sentence but Arthur made no move whatsoever to move. Until Diana bodily dragged him by his ear out of the hall half cackling,half protesting. 

“If you’re going to continue, be quick. I-”

“Shut up! You stop talking right now.” Clark interrupted, raising his voice by a piddly margin. The fact that Bruce obeyed was momentarily surprising but he continued on. “Now I don’t know what you got caught up that bat cave of yours but i’m just about tired of it. You’ve argued against me going on just about any mission in past two weeks, and you have been keeping me on watchtower duty for just as long.

“I don’t know what i did to lose your trust, or your confidence, but I’m done sitting on the sidelines hoping i say the right thing that day to get you to smile at me like before. To get you to laugh at my stupid jokes. Or  hell even to get you to roll your eyes at me. Anything that makes me visible to you,because it’s so much worse Bruce. it’s so much worse just not being seen.”

Bruce stared after the outburst. his breathing was even and his heart, Clark could hear, was steady as a drum. He’d barely reacted at all and that more than anything made Clark finally lose it. His mama forgive him.

“Fuck you, Bruce.” he turned to walk away in a huff when Bruce answered.

“I’m up for it if you are.”

Clark was frozen, back to Bruce and mind racing. he couldn’t have heard right, right? Bruce hadn’t actually propositioned him like this. Like an awkward bar pickup artist. That couldn’t be possible. He turned back around slowly and was not surprised at all to see Bruce leaning back in his chair. Calm as you please. The man was infuriating.

“Tell me you were joking.” Clark says before taking a momentous step closer.

Bruce tracked the step like hawk but simply looked up at him as he’d simply been commenting on the weather. 

“Bruce.” Clark warned as he took another carefully tracked step clooser, 

Bruce only looked him up from head to toe, eyes raking over him and pausing in the most titillating places. 

When Clark finally came to stand in the vee of Bruce’s thighs, breath coming too fast and shallow, hands awkward and hanging at his side he wished to god the man would say something else. Anything else. Anything to prove Clark wasnt about to make an ass of himself. 

But Bruce said nothing. His eyes were half lidded and his hands were curled on top of his thighs but his mouth, un-smirking, unsmiling, remained stubbornly closed. So when Clark reached out. So slowly and so carefully it was as if the air itself would shatter. 

HIs thumb traced just below Bruce’s full wet bottom lip. Bruce’s eyes razor bright and tracking his movements unbelievably close. 

He tried one last time. “Bruce, if you want me to stop, you’re going to have to say so.”

When Bruce’s eyes shined with want and his lips followed his thumb and bit down just wantonly enough to make Clark’s knees go weak he knew there was no going back. 

He hauled Bruce up by the back of the neck and inhaled his obscene groan as their lips clashed. Bruce tasted like mouth and mint and Clark couldn’t decide what he wanted to focus on most. Bruce’s hands, spread over Clark’s chest were hot and his fingers were long and strong as he pushed Clark back onto the table. 

Bruce’s smile when they separated was so light and almost carefree it stole Clark’s breath faster than the kiss did. when Bruce fell to his knees, cowl still up and cape spread out behind him Clark realized suddenly where they were again and his breath stuttered.

Big blue eyes ticked up to meet Clark’s and just as he always seemed to, it looked like Bruce knew exactly what was passing through Clark’s head, and he found it amusing. 

When he felt the hot nuzzle against his crotch, Bruce’s breath warm through the fabric of his uniform he lost it completely. he didn’t finish off but only just.

“We are not having are first time where Arthur eats corn dogs by the dozen. My quarters. Now.” Clark said, Bruce’s face in his hands, looking up like some kind of perfect fantasy. he didn’t wait for agreement; he’d told Bruce he wouldn’t be stopping for anything after all. Clark picked bruce up, threw him over one shoulder and blurred into his room. “and i’m going on that mission.”

Bruce’s laugh as he bounced off the bed was loud and free.

[pop-punklouis]

hey hope!! i’ve completely run out of things to watch recently and was wonderinf if you had any recs of movies and tv shows??

HI! 

It’s your lucky day because I have found myself in a hole of watching many new things lately that I’ve more or less found enjoyable so hopefully you will too? lol

1. Russian Doll:  Nadia, a young woman who is on a journey to be the guest of honor at a party in New York City. But she gets caught in a mysterious loop as she repeatedly attends the same event and dies at the end of the night each time – only to awaken the next day unharmed as if nothing had happened.

(I know I’m late to the party with that one, but it is quite literally one of the best comedy-dramas I’ve seen in a long while, not to mention Natasha Lyonne, the ultimate babe, stars in it. It is, blatantly, obvious that the script was written by women (thank god) and it has a cool, mind-trip twist at the end that’ll have you guessing what actually was happening the entire time. Super easy to binge!! 10/10)

2. Perfume:  When a woman is found murdered with scent glands excised from her body, a detective probes a group of friends who attended boarding school with her.

(A German mystery-crime-thriller that is way too convoluted and intertwined to know the real culprit of the grisly yet complex murders until the few minutes of the last episode. It has an incredibly intriguing script with intricate details and dialogue. Pleasantly surprised by how solid the entire storyline and characters were. TW though!! There are scenes of obscene sex, implied rape, domestic abuse, and sexual assault. So be careful if those things trigger you. Watching it in German with English subtitles is the way to go, though. Trust me.)

3. Handsome Devil:  Two opposites, a loner and the top athlete become friends at a rugby-obsessed boarding school, and the authorities test their friendship.

(An irish coming-of-age LGBT film that, again, pleasantly surprised me with how well it was executed underneath the guise of an overly cliche storyline. It’s winning, compelling, and quite moving with how it tackles individuality in teens. It’s just a great film that takes tropes and turns them on their head by transforming the characters in their own way. Not to give too much away but the talk one of the boys have with the English professor on the rugby field at night is so, so important as an open dialogue.) 

4. Dumplin’:  The plus-size, teenage daughter of a former beauty queen signs up for her mum’s pageant as a protest that escalates when other contestants follow in her footsteps, revolutionising the pageant and their small Texas town.

(As you can probably guess this film is an emotionally-impactful conversation about self-acceptance that rides on the back of societal expectations of young women all tied together in a very heart-warming coming-of-age drama. Also there’s loads of Dolly Parton music. What else is there to say)

5. The Lobster:  In a dystopian society, single people must find a mate within 45 days or be transformed into an animal of their choice.

(Isn’t a new watch, but I was reminded of it recently. Just an extended Black Mirror episode, pretty much. It’s odd. It’s bizarre. It’s engaging. It’s a lot of things, and they are great.)

6. Shirkers:  In 1992 teenager Sandi Tan shoots Singapore’s first road movie with her enigmatic American mentor, Georges, who then absconded with all of the footage. The 16 mm film is recovered 20 years later, sending Tan, who is now a novelist living in Los Angeles, on a personal odyssey in search of Georges’ footprints.

(One of my favorite documentaries I’ve seen in a while, mainly because it doesn’t exactly feel like a documentary. It feels like you’re privvy to the incredibly frustrating, disheartening, and determined story of friendship, women-bound creativity, youth, and dishonesty when it comes to the mystery of where and why Georges disappeared. It’s also empowering in a way to see the transition of these young women reclaiming their lives after such betrayal.)

7. Grace & Frankie:  For as long as they can recall, Grace and Frankie have been rivals. Their one-upmanship comes crashing to a halt, however, when they learn that their husbands have fallen in love with each other and want to get married. As everything around the ladies is coming apart, the only thing they can really rely on is each other.

(I’ve been living under a rock, sue me. This show is fanfuckingtastic. Just watch it. Just binge it. Just do it.)

8. Voyeur:  Gay Talese investigates Gerald Foos, a Colorado motel owner who spies on his guests. Using a carefully constructed platform in the motel’s attic, Foos documents his guests most private moments, from the mundane to the shocking.

(Just a frustratingly and horrifyingly sad and strange recollection of two men who act as an incredibly interesting character study if nothing else. Recommend)

9. Some Freaks:  A charming romance develops between a boy with one eye and an overweight girl, though when she loses her weight after going to college, their relationship is tested in devastating ways they never dreamed would happen.

(….. I still don’t know how I feel about this movie. I’ve watched it twice, once alone and once with a friend, and I’m still conflicted on my lasting thoughts about the film and its message. It’s definitely something I suggest watching, at least, to come to your own conclusions about how it made you feel. It’s just. uncomfortable in the strangest of ways, and I just need more people to converse about it with lmao)

10. The Kindergarten Teacher:  A teacher sees such great promise in her 5-year-old student that she goes to unreasonable lengths to protect his talent.

(I watched this film on a whim one day while off from work, and I was pleasantly surprised by its depth and heartbreaking tendencies. This film does not evoke anything but unsettled feelings and yearning for both the young boy and the teacher. Many people tend to gloss over the fact that this film does so much more than its superficial narrative. it opens such a bigger conversation into what absence and neglect of personal creativity and art through someone’s marriage and family can cause them to in-turn have an unhealthy obsession with wanting to keep a child’s love/talent for art alive. Haunting but great film.)

11. Mr. Roosevelt:  A struggling LA-based comedian goes home to Austin, Texas, when a family member becomes ill and finds herself in the awkward position of staying with her ex and his amazing new girlfriend.

(Friend found this hidden-gem on Netflix, and it’s such a quirky, comforting, easy-watch that I miss a lot in indie films. It’s progressive and weird in all the right ways, and it leaves you with a cozy feeling inside once the film reaches its end.)

12. Queer Eye Season 3

(You know the drill just more feel-good reality-television makeover that makes all of us a little bit happier about humanity’s ability to be kind)

13. Happy Anniversary:  On their three-year anniversary, Molly and Sam are at a crossroads and need to decide whether to move forward or call it quits.

(Another hidden gem found on Netflix that I ended up thoroughly enjoying. It comes across as a real, genuine, non-exaggerated look at the inside of a couple’s relationship. It’s candid, fun, witty in dialogue, and heartwarming towards the end. I’ll admit I got a bit misty eyed at 1 AM lol also the dude who plays jean-ralphio is one of the mains so c’mon.)

14. Class Rank:  When her class rank threatens her college plans, an ambitious teen convinces a nerdy peer to run for the school board to abolish the ranking system.

(Listen up, I watched this film because I was under the impression that it was going to be a b-rated teen film I could be amused by, but it ended up being a sorta cute story that I enjoyed a lot more than I probably should’ve RIP. Give it a shot).

15. Cam:  A camgirl has her principles, until a mysterious woman who looks just like her takes over her channel.

(Don’t take the general critic review to heart and watch the film, yourself. It’s. a ride. It definitely gave me chills as much as it made me uncomfortable. A thriller with twists and uneasiness at every corner. Just a real creepy look into AI, especially in industries like the camgirl industry. I do want the girl’s play dungeon tho rip)

[halfblood-fiend]

time to fix the lack of ask thing for ya :D :D how about 10 and/or 36 for whomever you're inspired to write about? :3

Okay, finally getting to this now that my computer isn’t committing soduku…

You know? Even though I said I didn’t really need people to send asks, it still sure was nice to get. Lol. So thank you!

Solidarity.

From the Fifty Ways To Kiss Someone Prompts

10. …desperately

ft. Trey x Dorian (Dragon Age)

“It’s a strange sort of place, isn’t it?” Dorian strode forward and rapped on the icy cavern wall with the point of his staff.

“Easy with that thing,” Trey teased. Dorian felt the weight of the elf’s hand across his shoulders as he clanked by. “You don’t want to bring this whole place down on us.”

“Ha. If I did, would we be free from needed to go further in?”

Trey chuckled as he strode away, but didn’t answer.

The frozen cave the Inquisitor had led them into was not only so frigid it hurt to breathe, but it was damned narrow too. Quite frankly, it made him nervous to think of delving deeper into it at all. One never knew what they might find. And if Dorian wasn’t going to be paid quite handsomely in his tent for this later when they returned to camp, he would have never agreed to follow Trey along on this little sight setting spree. He would have much preferred sitting beside a fire, thawing out frozen fingers around a mug of steaming tea, and perhaps with the handsome Inquisitor himself curled around him as well. Just the thought sent a delightful shiver down his spine. He made a mental note to make that part of his bargain as well.

Just a few more days, Dorian told himself. A few more days and they’d be done with the Emprise du Lion and then he would make Trey swear to never bring him back.

CRACK!

Dorian stumbled back from the rubble falling from the ceiling to his right. His arms went over his head but as fast as it had come, it was over, and the last few stones pelted him, leaving stinging welts where they hit. Coughing and spluttering, he couldn’t see past the swirling dust as welled up from the cavern floor.

“Amatus?!” He hacked his lungs out as soon as the word was spoken, but it didn’t stop him. “Treysomel!”

Dorian rushed towards the wall of collapsed ice and rubble and fell to his knees. Magic thrummed beneath his skin and sparks began to spit around his hands as he grabbed every piece of rock he could reach and flung them carelessly behind him.

When one of them hit something metal.

“Ow.”

His head snapped around so fast, he could have broken his neck, but there, crumpled to his left, was the dusty but unmistakable shape of the Inquisitor.

“Amatus,” Dorian practically sobbed. He scrambled to Trey’s side as the elf groaned and shook shards of ice from his hair.

Pulling the other man into him, Dorian crushed his lips against Trey’s, ignoring the grit and ignoring the muffled protest. Maker blast him, he was just so thankful Trey hadn’t been beneath the cave in. Nothing tasted as sweet as the Inquisitor’s lips on his, nothing.

Trey pushed Dorian off of him and turned his head to dry cough on his hands and knees. Dorian rubbed his back, fretting to himself until the elf could speak.

“I told you not to bring this place down on us,” he choked, “ but would you listen? Noooo. Someone has to poke everything with his staff…”

“Kaffas. I’ll poke you with my staff you no good, son of a–”

Trey interrupted the slew of obscenities Dorian had intended to hurl with his beautiful mouth and Dorian decided that this time he wouldn’t chide him for his rudeness.

36. To give up control

ft. ( @angle0fthegourd‘s favorite OC ship of mine) Space!AU Trey x Vonauk, my Vulcan OC (Starfinder? Technically??)

The shuttlecraft’s lights were turned down as low as they could go in order to conserve power. There was no telling how long it might take the rest of their party to discover the fact that Vonauk and Treysomel were missing from the ship, and perhaps even more time for them to find the shuttlecraft in question. There was ample time to quantify every possible solution to their current predicament. Vonauk had gone over the calculations in their head more times than they could count. Each time, the chances of their survival were slim to none. It would be a close call on whether they would run out of emergency rations or atmosphere first, and an even closer call on which fate would be worse to endure.

Treysomel sighed from his seat beside Vonauk at the command console. In quick succession, his long tinkerer’s fingers typed out a command code before the holographic console powered down entirely. Vonauk’s own hands paused in the air where their own console had just been moments before as Treysomel unbuckled himself from his seat. "It’s a lost cause no matter which way you figure it,” the elf mumbled. “No sense beatin’ around the bush.”

Vonauk dropped his hands to the bulkhead. “No cause is truly lost. If I recalibrate our communications relay and divert power from all nonessential systems, I should be able to maximize the range of our–”

“Give it up, will ya!” Treysomel snapped.

Vonauk arched a slanted eyebrow at him. “While it’s logical to have such an adverse reaction in the face of–”

“Of certain death?”

They frowned. “Our death is not certain yet, Treysomel.”

“Maybe not yours,” Treysomel replied roughly, running his hands through his already mussed auburn hair. He’d been half tearing it out for hours. “But I reckon mine is. Maybe you can live. I’m sure there’s some Vulcan way you can conserve your body’s energy, live for a while without food or maybe even air, but I sure as hells can’t. I’m done for sittin’ out here.”

“Your friends may find us yet.”

Treysomel’s ears flattened close to the side of his head as he considered, and Vonauk watched the play of emotions over the elf’s face in undisguised fascination. Hope, confusion, resignation, fear. Even distraught as he was, he was more beautiful than he had a right to be. Which made the fact he was correct all the worse. Eventually, he leaned back into the seat’s headrest and let his face turn towards theirs. “Ain’t nothin’ for it. Just give it up, darlin’.”

He lifted his hands from his lap and they closed warm and urgent over Vonauk’s, sending a shock of pleasure through their body. Treysomel pulled them towards him and kicked the side of their seat so it would swivel until the two of them faced each other. He leaned forward in his own seat until their faces were inches apart. Vonauk became painfully aware that Treysomel’s thumbs rubbed over the back of their hands, and their face warmed uncomfortably.

The elf gave them a lopsided grin that didn’t quite touch his green eyes. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to the color of your blush… Listen, don’ think too much about it, jus’ tell me goodbye. Like you mean it. Precious time’s a wastin’.”

“Treysomel…” Vonauk wanted to assure him they would do everything in their power to get him out of this. They wanted to tell him help was coming, and that if he just let them man their station, they could ensure his survival. But the platitudes rang false, even before the words ever left their mouth. The others in their party might’ve treated Treysomel poorly because of his dubious upbringing, but a fool he was not. Vonauk had seen that from the beginning. They would be doing him a disservice by attempting to convince him everything was fine. Nothing was “fine.” They had gotten the two of them into this mess, lured Treysomel away because they knew he would do anything to help them, and now Treysomel was going to pay the price for it. Holding a grudge might not be the Vulcan way, but Vonauk doubted they would ever forgive themselves if the beautiful creature before them died on their account.

Not if. When.

“Hey.” Treysomel’s fingers traced Vonauk’s jaw and brushed their temple and they shuddered at the flair of sensation the elf left upon their skin. “Don’ look so worried,” he murmured. “S'not a good look for ya.”

He made jokes, bit out bitter laughter in the face of long odds, in some attempt to ease their perceived suffering. Vonauk’s heart twisted painfully in their side.

“Come on.”

Vonauk searched Treysomel’s face one last time and found nothing but resignation there. “If you would just let me…” but Treysomel’s face said it all. No one was coming. Not on time.

Vonauk closed their eyes and closed the last bit of distance, finding Treysomel’s lips soft against theirs. They had seen so much death in their time and was hardly moved by it, but this…

Why did this have to be different?

The elf grasped at them and when his fingers grazed their skin, they shuddered. And when he eased from his chair and pulled them after him, they let him. He could have this. It was logical to fulfill his final wishes if they could, even if it would mar their soul than they would ever care to admit.

Neither one of them saw the light set into the bulkhead wink from steady red to blinking green with the acknowledgment of their emergency distress beacon.