#this was the last website I actually felt like I could navigate

[rebelliousstories]

Online Shopping

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,779

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: Trapped in his own home, there’s very little that he can do to express himself, or show that expression to anyone else. But Sergeant Barnes ain’t no quitter; he just has to navigate a new world.

Consider Donating: Here

Going out to a physical store during the holidays was a but too much for Bucky right now. Sure, he could go into high stakes, life-threatening missions with no problem. Dealing with crazy crowds of angry shoppers trying to get their last minute gifts? Absolutely not.

However, he had yet to find the perfect gift for a certain someone. This one woman that went to the same bar that he frequented that he actually had a lot in common with. Read the same type of books, enjoyed similar music; even had the same affinity for obscure, random, useless facts.

So here Bucky was, days before Christmas, struggling to find the gift he wanted to give her without leaving the house. He was supposed to meet her at the bar Christmas Eve to spend some time together, and he was hoping to give her a present then. However, there was no way he was going to leave his apartment to go shopping.

That is, until James remembered something Sam had mentioned recently. There was shopping online. It was a brilliant idea, with just one small problem; he had no idea how it worked. Begrudgingly, Bucky tried to talk himself into contacting his partner. He knew that Sam would never let him live this down.

Forcing himself to pick up the phone, Barnes reluctantly dialed up the number. Part of him hoped that he wouldn’t pick up as they line just kept ringing and ringing and ri-

“Bucky, what’s up man?” Sam answered with a cheerful tone.

“Hey, Sam. I, um…” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes as he talked himself into actually speak. “I need your help with something.”

“Sure, man. Whatcha need? Hold on, one sec.” There was some shuffling on the other end of the line before Sam came back on. The sound of children laughing, and people chattering came through. “Alright. What’s up?”

“Could you help me shop online?” Bucky asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come again?”

“I-I need to buy something and I don’t wanna go into stores right now.” He tried explaining as he paced around his apartment.

“Bucky, are you sure there isn’t someone else who could help you out? I’m on the opposite end of the country right now, man. What about that chick you’ve been talking about? The one from the bar.” Sam stared out into the vast open waters from the dock of his family home.

“Well, um… that’s who I’m getting the thing for. I kinda don’t want her knowing.” Scratching the back of his head, Bucky felt uncomfortable as he had been forced to say it aloud.

“Ooo, you sly dog, man!” Sam cheered. “Whatcha wanna get her?”

Now, there was a blush creeping up his neck from the man’s words. “A set of books.”

“Okay, now we’re working with something. You probably don’t have amazon set up yet so, can you find this set online? Like the Barnes and Nobles or Books-A-Million websites?” Wilson instructed, fully getting on board with this idea.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on.” Behind the phone, Sam could hear Bucky moving through his apartment to sit at his computer. Clacking keys, and mumbling were the only indicators that any progress was being made.

“Okay, okay. I found it on Books-A-Million. Add to cart, right?”

“Yep. See you got it man. Now, when you hit check out, you have the option of choosing whether or not to ship it or pick it up in store.” Sam continued to explain, trying to get his friend through this.

“Which do I pick?” Bucky was so confused staring at the computer.

“Whichever will get the item there faster and on time.”

“Will it say that somewhere?”

“Can you read the damn page?” Sam sighed, now, rolling his eyes.

Bucky snorted through his nose in contempt. “Alright, it says it can be at my apartment by tomorrow. What do I do now?”

“Click checkout and put in your card info.”

Some more clicking and typing occurred before James came back to the phone. “I think it’s done. Listen, um thanks Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, man,” Sam started, “I just expect to be invited to the wedding.”

“Ha ha. Bye, Sam.” The phone call was disconnected without another chance for a reply. Leaning back in the desk chair, Bucky was fiddling with his hands as he thought about what he was going to do with wrapping.

He was not the best at presents, even back in his younger days. His sister or mom would always wrap presents for him, while he could, at best, put something in a pretty bag. Bucky was not even sure if he had wrapping paper around his apartment.

Which meant he needed to go get something to make it pretty before giving it to her. Which meant having to go out into the crowds of shoppers. A memory of seeing some wrapping paper at the bodega on the corner popped into his head. Maybe James could skip the lines and crowds that made him feel anxious.

Two nights later, Bucky was standing outside of the bar that they were supposed to meet at. In his hands, a gift bag heavy with the weight of books rested. The cold December air nipped at his cheeks, and made his breath appear in front of him, but he could not just walk in just yet. He was still trying to work up the nerve to go in and meet her. This night could be the end of their friendship in one way or another if he did not play it right.

Exhaling sharply, he pushed open the door. Scanning the room, Bucky smiled as he saw her happily sitting with a few drinks in front of her at a booth. Walking up, he opened his arms just in time for her to launch herself into them.

“Bucky! I missed you. Come on, I got the first round.” She kept a beaming grin as she hugged, and led the man over to his booth.

“Hey, missed you too. Thank you.” Sliding in, he set the gift bag on the seat as he sat down. Barnes clinked his bottle against hers and took a sip.

“So what have you been up to?” And thus began their conversation that would branch off into an evening together.

He loved hearing her talk. Even if she read the dictionary, Bucky could just listen to her forever. There was something calming about it. His mind was often flooded with too many voices, too many memories; it was just too active. This was the kind of voice that he could relax to. It gave him a sense of calm he could not replicate anywhere else.

“Oh,” her voice broke him from his trance. “Before I forget, here you go.”

A gift bag was set on the table, and pushed across to him. Bucky, with wide eyes, gently grasped the handles of the bag, and pulled it closer to him.

“What is it?” He whispered, eyes tracing over the decorative paper coming from the top.

“A bomb.” Her voice was deadpan, as was her expression. Leveling her with a similar look, Bucky chuckled when he saw her beaming now.

“Open it, silly.” At her encouragement, James delicately tore into the bag. Below the tissue paper, there was a box-like object wrapped in beautiful wrapping paper. He plucked it from the bag, and turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. Tearing a stripe through the paper, the second he saw what was inside, he became giddy.

“No. You didn’t.” Resting in his hands now, was an original 1937 copy of the Hobbit. The bindings were fresh, as if someone had recently redone the book. A distinct old book smell wafted into his nose when he opened the book. Flabbergasted, Bucky shifted his gaze between the book and the woman across from him.

“You mentioned you’d like to read it again and someone at my book club was looking to sell it. He gave me a steal because we’re friends. Said his grandfather originally owned it, and brought it with him when he moved to here from Germany.” She casually explained, shrugging and taking a swig of her drink.

“I… thank you. Truly,” Bucky reached his hands across to hold hers that was on the table, “I just- I don’t know what to say besides thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Bucky.”

“This, um-” he cleared his throat, “makes my gift a little coincidental.”

Bucky reached next to him to place the bag on the table. He sat there, with bated breath and rapt attention as she began to dive into the bag. As opposed to her gift, his was just placed inside without wrapping paper. But James at least put some pretty tissue paper on top. And yet, even without the wrapping paper on the present, she was giddily pulling the books from the bag.

“You got the entire Neon Gods set for me? Oh, Bucky…” she sighed dreamily as she held and looked over each cover and backing.

“Yeah, well. You mentioned you’d wanted to read it.” Bucky smirked, catching a glint in her eyes. He did not want to get his hopes up, but he loved that little glint.

“You’re such a sweetie. Thank you.” Getting out of her seat, she went across to his section of the booth and wrapped him in a hug. Bucky pressed his nose into her hair, enjoying the comforting feeling of her embrace.

She sat back after a moment, and looked over her books again. “I still can’t believe you got me the entire set. All I got you was a single book.”

“Hey,” he shook her lightly, “don’t do that. I love this single book. However…”

At this she perked up. “However?”

“Maybe, you’d be able to get me one more Christmas present that’s been on my wishlist,” came Bucky’s ask, albeit very hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?”

A second of utter silence passed between them. So long that Bucky was genuinely about to retract his statement, chalking it up to a joke. A very lame joke.

“I’d love to.” She muttered, dropping her eyes down to the shirt covering his chest. James breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nervous chuckles passed between the two of them as they took in the situation at hand.

“Okay, then.” Bucky threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in closer. He pressed a kiss to her hair as he basked in the triumph of the moment. Totally worth it in his book.

[reliccipher]

just ended up sending in feedback about the layout to support. But I have to say it here too, this new layout is such a pain in the ass to figure out. I hated twitter's layout for the same reason, its so annoying to use and everything feels so cluttered and squished in and distracting... it's actually headache inducing.

I really wish I had the option to switch back. I wish there was an option to CHOOSE between the two layouts. I wish I had the choice to opt out of "testing" this thing.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it" really should have been brought up before they even tried making this. It was fine before, and now the new layout is completely different and frustrating when it didn't need to be.

If I wanted Twitter's layout, I would have just fucking gone to Twitter.

[blue-aconite]

Can we please have a little background info on let me drown? 💕

Vee, first I'd like to apologise for not answering this sooner. Second, I'm so excited you want to know more about Let Me Drown. I've been wracking my brain for this ask and I've decided to put it underneath a cut. There won't be any significant spoilers, but better safe than sorry!

You can find some background here. Find out more below the cut!

Like I've said before, I actually can't exactly remember how I came up with the idea for LMD. As I mentioned in the post linked above, there was another fic planned called "Mid-Air Collision", which had similar elements that I've adapted into LMD.

In the film, it's very obvious Rooster and Hangman share some kind of history. They don't like each other and there's some kind of slumbering conflict between the two of them. I found that fascinating and while I do love me a good Hangster fic, I knew I wanted to create something else this time around.

I think there was a dream involved where I saw parts of the fic. Call me crazy, I don't know and when I woke up, there was only a vague memory of what had happened. But I couldn't let it go.

I made this, which became my first visual for the fic and after creating this, I made two separate Pinterest boards. One for Bradley and one for Jake.

In MAC, Bob's little sister was named Sasha, which I used in my first draft. But the name never felt right, she didn't feel like a Sasha. So while I recycled parts of the character into LMD, I knew I needed to let her become her own person. There might have been a poll involved in choosing a name, or maybe I asked for opinions in the Discord server, but either way, Thea got stuck on my mind (I was most likely looking at baby name websites).

I wrote this in the Discord, saying to get ready for pain and angst:

Bradley slammed Jake against the wall, knuckles white as he tugged on the shorter man’s shirt. “Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, trying desperately to ignore the way Jake seemed to thrive on his anger. Hangman smirked as if their position didn’t bother him in the slightest. The rest of the squad tried to pry them apart, tried to get Bradley to let go but he held fast. Jake didn’t once try to break free, he just kept a hold on Bradley’s wrists. “Calm down Chicken.” The nickname, that Bradley hated, was the last straw as he pulled back only to raise his fist instead. If he couldn’t get Hangman to stop smirking, he’d punch his face instead. What he didn’t count on was Bob of all people stepping between them and blocking Bradley’s fist.

And another few blurbs, but it all started with the confrontation between Rooster and Hangman at the Hard Deck and Bob picking Jake's side over Bradley's (this event has not occurred in the timeline for the fic yet and what I've shared above has changed a lot).

Bradley's issues came into play quite early and I knew before I even started writing that he and Thea were doomed from the beginning. There was no way for either of them to make it out of the relationship unscathed and I always knew Bradley was going to break her heart.

There was a point where she never found about his infidelity directly from Rooster but rather Athena, but I owed it to both of them that Brad was the one coming clean about his actions. There was even a time where Thea was going to forgive him at first but as Bradley's toxic behaviour unraveled itself and became such an important part of his downfall, I knew Thea would never do that.

Same as I knew Bradley and Thea would never make it, I knew Jake and Thea were destined to be together. That was a no-brainer.

The balance between writing Bradley and Jake as love interests is what intrigued me the most, how different and at the same time, alike, they are. It's a swamp of navigation but I knew I needed to write it.

I could go on and on but I'll stop here. Thank you so much for this ask, it's been great fun answering it. You know my DM's are always open!

[violetskies65]

The Mothman Festival '23

As a kid, I endured a bizarre cryptozoology phase. Looking back, sometimes it could be neat, other times cringey. Of course, I knew all the cryptids, and Mothman was the scariest to me, probably because I was a dumb kid and whole heartedly believed in everything I saw on the internet, and because it was a cryptid sighting and legend closest to me! Well, approximately 2 hours and 40 minutes from where I live. Of course I did some extra driving because I had to round up some good friends!

With me I had Sloan, and my childhood best friend Jennifer. I was glad to finally get to see her again and get out out of the house, although she was not fond of the crowd. i wasn't either.

We left pretty late. The festival lasts for two days, and on today, 9/17/23, it was set to close at 5. We ended up arriving at 2:40, but had to take an ungodly amount of time finding somewhere to park. As the festival website states, the festival takes place in the middle of the downtown area, and "parking is on you" We ended up parking at a local AutoZone and walking, but not without paying $10 first.

Usually, I don't mind getting places later. The parking situation was a bit annoying, but it was extremely crowded, with a lot of booths and food places. I stopped and got about two things of Shaved ice that was pretty good, but I was not interested in a lot of the food that was there, more or so the vendors and cute mothman merch.

Sloan got a magnet, I got a t-shirt and an absolutely adorable Mothman Plushie. Both $20 each, but like at other fairs and events, they run a tough bargain!

Overall, I was pretty happy with my trip, but the size of the town, parking options, and with the way the festival was sit up, I guess I can just say I felt crowded. Way more crowded in comparison to other WV events I've visited, such as the Ronceverte river festival. I do wish I got there earlier, and for those attending next year, please get there early so you can enjoy it and have much more fun! The day itself in Point Pleasant even had a mysterious feeling, due to the rain and atmosphere.

It's odd to say, but I'd say the town has an "alluring" element to it. Just that small town feel, but one of a town that can make you feel like yea, this place is small, and this place is cursed.

Unfortunately, I actually did not get a pic with the mothman statue! I was disappointed because that is probably what I wanted the most, especially with my friends. But that line was just too damn long, I'd rather go back another day and do it. I mean hell, I might even stop by if I make a quick visit to Gallipolis to marvel at their wonderful Christmas lights!

Like I said, always leave early for the festival, and BRING CASH! I'd argue that this place is a safe haven for those expressive with their identity, (goths and emos alike), cryptozoology fans and those into the supernatural and paranormal, and of course those intrigued with West Virginia history and culture! It is also pretty difficult to navigate through the small town of Point Pleasant, more so during the festival. If you have the patience to hunt for parking, you should also try out the Mothman Museum, and try eating at their local restaurants, as we did. Shoutout to Rio Bravo.

The stores and businesses outlining the festival are pretty nice, from restaurants to video game outlets blasting nostalgic music, it just feels like a fun place to explore and look at new things. I actually can't wait to go back through Point Pleasant, and see just what the town is all about!

[ineffectualdemon]

Can we also talk about how it's not easy to buy a computer anymore if you're not a tech person?

In the early 2000s with a bit of advice from a more techy person or online I could go to one of several fairly reputable pc brands and buy a computer or a laptop

It was an expensive purchase but one I felt reasonably confident about making

When we bought a computer for my teenager (mostly so they could game) we really struggled

We struggled to find a brand we recognised

The websites were obtuse and hard to navigate for me especially who is the least tech interested and knowledgeable person on my house

I am competent enough at using a computer. I can use the file systems and I can troubleshoot basic problems

But it's still very basic surface level and only because I've been using computers since I was 5 and am now 40 (my grandma had early PCs in her house)

But I found shopping for a PC I'm the last 5 years confusing and hard to navigate. Its still an expensive purchase but I'm not confident in my ability to make a good choice

And that's someone who lives with more techy people to lean on. The average computer user doesn't have that

I got a Chromebook on purpose this year I got in a package with a crappy Samsung phone (it's so crappy I'm using my old phone to watch video and play music and access tumblr. The actual phone is basically a phone with a functioning calendar app)

I did that because I desperately needed something to write my essays for class on and my last laptop is missing two keys that can't be replaced and is running at a snails pace so there is a huge delay between typing and seeing the words on the screen

So I have a chromebook for writing essays and doing other things it's convenient to have a keyboard and a full screen for

Because I could not afford a decent laptop with a lump sum. But I could get a Chromebook as a package deal with a shitty phone on contract. (We could only afford the computer for kiddo because approximately half the money came from in-laws and it was an investment in Kiddo's education)

"Use Linux!"

"Get a pc!"

"Get a laptop!"

"Do (thing that requires tech knowledge and understanding that most people do not and will never have)!"

"It's easy!"

If you think like that you are so out of touch with the problem that you're adding to it

We need to lay more blame for "Kids don't know how computers work" at the feet of the people responsible: Google.

Google set out about a decade ago to push their (relatively unpopular) chromebooks by supplying them below-cost to schools for students, explicitly marketing them as being easy to restrict to certain activities, and in the offing, kids have now grown up in walled gardens, on glorified tablets that are designed to monetize and restrict every movement to maximize profit for one of the biggest companies in the world.

Tech literacy didn't mysteriously vanish, it was fucking murdered for profit.

[bogleech]

So warning for just this first paragraph involving parasites and unsanitary substances, so you can skip this first paragraph and none of the rest is like that, but as cool as I think parasites are I still don’t want them in my body anymore than I want to be killed by an elephant seal (my favorite large mammalian predator that can still navigate land) and in any case if you’re cleaning up animal mess with nothing but paper towels in your hand and you don’t expect anything in the mess to vigorously move and try to get away you can have the kind of lizard brain panic that leads to thoughtlessly putting a handful of paper towels in exactly the closest receptacle even if that’s a toilet and paper towels don’t go in the toilet. So I clogged the only toilet at almost midnight and I felt so terrible I thought I should go to the one 24 hour supermarket we have and get toilet-specific drain cleaner because regular drain cleaner can wreck a toilet or even cause a dangerous explosion (it’s because of gas building up in the U-bend). I called ahead and they said they had some so I got in the car but then the car wouldn’t move. Last week an indicator light had come on to get the timing belt changed, so I found a real honest mechanic just the other day and he actually said our timing belt was perfectly fine and probably good for a while so I didn’t need to get together $500 to get a new one. So when the car suddenly wouldn’t move just days after this, my mind skipped any other investigative process to conclude it was absolutely probably the timing belt or some mysterious equally bad thing and in the morning I would have to call a tow truck to take it to a shop and there would go money I really don’t have to spend. So with my brain fried by all the above happening in just the same hour I called a lyft, which I’ve actually never done before, so I didn’t bother to download the app and I used the website. The lyft guy was a real nice older man who questioned me enough about my day to find out we were having car trouble but he couldn’t figure what might be wrong. He let me know he’d be around probably when I needed the ride back especially because he had to use the bathroom very urgently so we got to the 24 hour supermarket and he ran in and I went to find the toilet stuff. It turned out the staff I talked to just had no idea that you needed a special kind of draino (or any of its knockoffs) for just toilets so while they had three different brands of unclogger they did not have a single toilet friendly variety, and anyway it took about that long for me to connect that a toilet unclogger would probably take all night to work and by then I could call the apartment’s repair guy who has a plumbing snake anyway. So the lyft guy was already gone when I came out but when I ordered a lyft home it did indeed show the same man with the same car was going to be picking me up. As I stood waiting right in front of the same supermarket however I received texts that he had already arrived and I couldn’t see him anywhere in the parking lot, and when I tried to figure out how to text him it said I’d need the app to do it and by then it told me he was leaving and I missed my ride so this time I downloaded the actual app to get another lyft. This wound up being a different nice older man who was just as chatty but this one knew exactly what happened when I described how the car behaved. So anyway this has never ever happened in my entire life which is surprising given my uncannily unreliable short term memory and distractability but I guess because I live right down the corner, like just a short walk from multiple truck stops I had finally after all these years forgotten to put gas in

[mimzy-writing-online]

Writing A Blind/Visually Impaired Character: Canes, Guide Dogs, O&M

Wow, back in June I decided to take a few months break from blogging to recharge and focus on my mental health. About a month ago I began writing this specific post, slowly and in stages because of how demanding, detailed, and long it is.

I’m not sure when I planned to come back. I have about 200 posts with tags and image description in my drafts folder, waiting to be queued, but I wanted to finish this guide before I fully came back.

Come back with a bang, right?

But this blog, and specifically, my Writing a Blind or Visually Impaired Character  guide, has gotten so much traffic and support that I felt incredibly motivated to come back now.

So I finished the guide, and now here it is. It’s been a year+ in the making. Since the very beginning of this writing advice series about writing blind characters, I’ve promised to write a guide specifically about canes, guide dogs, O&M, and other accessibility measures the blind community relies on. 

In fact, if you look at my master post for this guide (now pinned at the first post on my blog) you’ll find that it was reserved as Part Four, even as other guides and additions were added over the last year.

In this post I’ll be explaining 

What Orientation and Mobility (O&M) is

How one learns O&M

About canes, from different types of canes and their parts, as well as how to use a cane. 

I will be explaining the sensory experiences of using a cane and how to describe it in narrative. 

I will include small mannerisms long-time cane uses might develop. 

At the very end will be a section on guide dogs, but this will be limited to research because I have no personal experience with guide dogs, being a cane user.

Disclaimer: I am an actual visually impaired person who has been using a cane for nearly three years and has been experiencing vision loss symptoms for a few years longer than that. This guide is based on both my experiences and my research. My experiences are not universal however because every blind person has a unique experience with their blindness

What Is Orientation & Mobility

Orientation and Mobility (O&M) is the specific skill of understanding and navigating the world safely and confidently with vision loss.

I’m going to quote Vision Aware’s specific definition [link]

"Orientation" refers to the ability to know where you are and where you want to go, whether you're moving from one room to another or walking downtown for a shopping trip.

"Mobility" refers to the ability to move safely, efficiently, and effectively from one place to another, such as being able to walk without tripping or falling on steps or elevation changes, crossing streets, and using public transportation

O&M can involve :

-learning how to use a cane, as well as what cane works best for you

-safely navigating obstacles with your cane, including stairs, ramps, elevators, uneven or curved sidewalks, through crowds, around furniture

-learning safe strategies for crossing the street

-planning routes to new or recurring locations

-using technology enroute, including GPS and apps like Uber and Lyft

-safely accessing public transportation

-how to ask for help when needed

-working with human sighted guides

A Note on the Blind Community and Their Relationship with Canes

The Perkins School for the Blind estimates that only 2-8% of the blind community rely on canes for navigation. The rest rely on remaining vision, guide dogs, and sighted guides. Only about 2% of the blind community relies on guide dogs however, and to get a guide dog in the first place, a person must go through O&M classes and use a cane for six months before they can sign up for a guide dog.

What this means is that 90% of the blind community don’t use a cane.

I didn’t know this fact until I begun research for this guide, and that number astounds me. 

Truth be told, while I have navigated my life without a cane before, I can’t imagine going back to the way it was before I got it. Even if I only need my cane some of the time, I can’t bear to not use it in the situations I need it. Having a cane made my life a lot easier, a lot safer.

I don’t know what to attribute this number to.

I might attribute it to the concepts of invisible vs. visible disability, internalized ableism, or the feeling of ‘not being blind enough’ for a cane, as well as accessibility to the blind community and knowledge, and access to buying a cane in the first place. I could write a thing about it, but if I try it’s gonna be its own post.

Onward~

How Do You Learn O&M? How Will My Character Learn?

You will have to find an Orientation and Mobility instructor and have them personally teach you O&M skills.

The O&M Instructor is a sighted adult who has gone to school for a bachelor’s degree and gone through O&M training themselves while blindfolded, usually fulfilling a certain requirement of hours (one program required 400 hours of O&M practice blindfolded before you could become certified), and apply for certification to teach O&M.

(Or, as is the process to become an instructor in the United States, where I am from. Becoming an instructor would vary in other countries, I’m sure)

To find an O&M instructor, you would reach out to your local school or foundation for the blind. Finding your nearest school for the blind could be done through…

Google search

Your Ophthalmologist (eye doctor) referring you to a school for the blind

A Social Service Worker reaching out to you and helping you contact the school

Possibly your school (as in grade/primary school, high school, university) reaching out to the nearest school for the blind on your behalf.

Unfortunately, there is not an abundance of schools and foundations, so your nearest might still be a far travel distance. My local school is a 45 minute drive away. For some it might a few hours away. 

This is, again, a U.S. experience, because our land mass is spaced out, and something like a six hour drive feels like nothing to most people (although is highly impractical and very difficult to a blind person who cannot drive themselves), but in other countries a six hour drive would mean crossing several borders, and other countries have different social programs.

There is not a full and complete database of every available school for the blind either, no one website to find every possible option. For example, the school I went to wasn’t listed in most of the website resources I found, even though it has seven branches and locations. 

This is more a complaint at the real life struggle to find disabled services, that there are few comprehensive resources out there. If you ask me, it should be made significantly easier to find and access your local blind communities. Accessibility and disabled services should be easily available everywhere.

If your story is based in a real world location, googling ‘school for the blind (city/county/country)’ should suffice in finding the one most local to your setting.

What might a school for the blind provide for your character?

Well, on top of helping your character connect to an O&M instructor, a school for the blind might provide other rehabilitation classes and access to additional resources.

Those rehabilitation classes could include lessons on:

-Reading/Writing Braille & using brailling machines

-Technology classes for screen readers, magnifiers, etc on your computer and smart phone.

My local school has separate classes specific to Andriod, iOS, JAWS, Zoomtext Fusion

-Independent Living skills (cooking, cleaning, organizing, planning how to get groceries and medications)

-Self Improvement (dancing, art, music, self defense. These were classes my school taught)

The additional resources form these schools might include- 

Referrals to counselors for coping with vision loss

Access to their audio-book and braille library

Access to magnifier devices, brailler machines (think of a typewriter for writing braille)

Some schools also offer grade-school or high-school education, meaning blind children/teens learn there instead of a mainstream school.

Some schools have lodgings for clients to stay at while going through rehabilitation, especially if the vision loss is sudden and severe. They live on-campus and take part in classes. Other schools only have day classes offered and you need to find transportation for every visit. Many schools might have a rehabilitation specialist or O&M instructor visit you in your home.

My local school did the last two. They had on site classes, but the school is a 45 minute drive from me, so I only visited a few times. They were able to send an O&M instructor to me. 

On Wednesdays at 3 pm she would drive to my house and give me lessons on using my cane. Those included her driving me to different locations to practice certain skills (like using stairs and escalators at the mall, or crossing a moderately busy intersection, or visiting a bus station to practice boarding a bus safely and communication with a bus driver where my stop was).

She also brought multiple different types of canes for new students to try out and determine which felt best for them.

The Many Types of Canes

Long Canes are used to sweep the immediate area in front of the cane user as they’re walking. This is the cane type that the general public is most familiar with seeing. There are several sub-types of long canes. They can also be called white canes or probing canes.

[Image Description: Man in business clothes traveling on the side walk with a white and red cane. End Image Description]

White cane can be a misnomer for two reasons: One, the concept of the standard cane for the blind can look different in different countries. In America, the standard is white with a red tip. In some countries the standard is an all-white cane. In some countries an all white cane might mean the user is blind while a white cane with a red tip means the user is deaf-blind.

Two, some companies like Ambutech allow customers to customize their cane colors and tips. Example: Molly Burke’s hot pink cane. My white cane with a purple tip. An all black or all sky blue or all red or all purple cane. A black cane with a blue or purple tip. Ambutech also allows customers to request neon-colored reflective tape to make their canes more visible at night.

Probing cane is not a term I’ve personally heard before, but it is a term Vision Aware uses on their website.

There are three main types of long canes:

Non-folding Canes: a cane that has no sections, cannot be folded or collapsed.

[Image Description: stock photo of man in business suit with a non-folding all white cane. End Image Description]

Folding Canes: The cane has 3-6 sections depending on its height. The taller the cane, the more sections it has. The sections are separate pieces that are made to snap together and are held together by a strong elastic rope inside the sections.

[Image Description: a folding cane with four sections, white with a red tip, and a rolling marshmallow tip. End Image Description]

Telescopic Canes: in which the sections slide into each other, similar to a telescope/spyglass, rather than pulling apart and folding. The handle is the widest section, and the tip section is the thinnest.

[Image Description: Three stacked images of a blue telescopic cane. First is of the cane completely collapsed. Second is of the sections partially sliding out. Third is the cane sections completely out and locked.]

Beyond that is also the Identification Cane. The function of this cane is to visibly identify the user as blind. It’s not used for O&M the way long canes are, there is no sweeping out the next two steps. It can be used as a support cane, however. 

It’s appeals most to the elderly who not only make up a huge percentage of the blind community, but might also benefit most from having both a support cane and an identifier for their blindness, in case they need assistance. 

[Image Description: identification cane with curved handle. All white with red tip. End Image Description]

A note: From what I’ve heard in the blind community, some people prefer solid/non-folding canes over folding or telescopic canes. The reason for this is that solid canes transfer vibration better than folding or telescopic canes. It’s said that the more sections a cane has, the less precise the vibrations are. 

Some cane users train themselves to understand the vibrations of the surfaces their canes are touching. It tells them what kind of surface they’re on (wood vs. marble vs. concrete), if there are nearby objects to their cane. While I rely somewhat on cane vibrations to tell me what surface I’m walking on (more on that later), it is beyond my current O&M abilities to use cane vibrations to sense nearby walls or objects.

Cane vibrations are just an additional information-sense to add to the others in use, and extra bit of data input.

Parts of the Cane: Materials, Handle, Tips, Sections, Elastic Band

Material

The three most common types of materials used to make canes are aluminum, carbon-fiber, and fiberglass. Each material has some drawbacks and benefits.

The ideal cane is lightweight and durable. It should be strong enough to withstand hitting something solid without bending or splintering.

Aluminum is strong and durable, but heavy. If it’s damage, it’s more likely to bend than break entirely. A bend can be straightened out, but it takes considerable strength.

Carbon-fiber is lightweight and durable. It’s stronger than fiberglass, and it can bend out of shape rather than splintering.

Fiberglass is lightweight but a bit rigid. If it breaks, it splinters.

Handles and Elastic Bands

While some canes can have specialized grips (plastic, wood, corkboard) the most common handle material is a black rubber handle that is about ten inches long, give or take. In the previous photos you’ve seen, the canes have had black rubber handles.

Here is an example of a cane with a wood-mesh material used as the handle.

[Image Description: a four section white cane with a red tip and a orange wood mesh handle, with black elastic band attached. End Image Description]

The benefits of black rubber handles over others are that it’s easier to hold onto, especially if your palms are wet or sweaty, than a plastic or polished wood handle. It also wouldn’t show the indents or scratches from wear and tear daily use. I’m guessing that is cheaper to make on the manufacturing standpoint, and thus is conveniently the standard.

Pay attention to the black elastic band attached to the handle in the above photo. Notice how it has a tied off loop? That is so that when the cane is folded, that loop can be stretched over the folded sections to hold it together.

[Image Description: a four section folding cane folded up with the black band around them. End Image Description]

Additional benefits or functions of the elastic could be to use it as a wrist strap while using the cane, or hanging it up on a hook while not in use. I tend to have my cane folded up and tuck my wrist under the strap to hold it more securely while carrying it. Images of that ahead in my cane-isms section.

Cane Height

Ideal cane heights depend on the user. For most users, you want your cane height to be to your shoulder, give or take a few inches. You might need a longer cane if you are a fast walker with long strides, or a shorter cane if you prefer to hold your cane at a lower angle than is traditional.

What I mean when I talk about holding your cane at a certain angle is that the standard is to hold your cane handle in your dominant hand and position it in front of your belly button, moving it side to side with each step. Traditional grip methods are holding your hand palm side up with your cane in hand, or to hold the cane at the section joint closest to the handle with what is called the pencil grip, holding the cane like a fat pencil.

Depending on the height, a cane can have anywhere between three and six sections. Longer canes have more sections. The top section includes the handle, and the last section includes the stripe color (traditionally red, unless customized) and the tip. 

The sections of the cane are generally slightly reflective, regardless of color. If you hold a cane up to the light you’ll see tiny specks of light reflected back, almost like very fine, tiny particle glitter paint. This detail is important in cane production because it makes the cane more visible at night, especially if something like car headlights reflect off it while someone is crossing.

Additional visibility at night can be added by wrapping stripes of reflective tape along the shaft.

Cane Tips

There are several different tip options for canes.

[Image Description: four different types of cane tips on a blue background with labels. From left to right: marshmallow tip, ball tip, pencil tip, glide tip.]

[Image Description: a rolling marshmallow tip with a blue background. End Image Description]

[Image Description: Bandu basher tip with a white background. For anyone not familiar with the name, the long, curved cane tip that looks like a hockey stick. End Image Description]

Some of these tips are better for the tap-tap method of cane travel, as in tapping the spots where you plan to step. They can also be used to feel out the shapes of objects, stairs, etc. 

marshmallow tip, pencil tip, 

They should not be scraped over surfaces, the tips will wear down much faster than they should. There are better tips for rolling over surface

Some tips are better for the rolling method of cane travel, which is the method I use. They aren’t great for tapping, but it can be done in a pinch. 

rolling marshmallow tip, ball tip, glide tip

The Bandu Basher tip, the hockey stick shaped tip, is best for hovering an inch off the ground and lightly tapping objects. It could be tapped. It should not be scraped over the ground like a rolling tip. It hovers.

After enough use, the tips will wear down and need to be replaced. The part of the tip that has the most contact with the ground, usually the edge of the shape, gets scrapes, sands down, and eventually begins to look like it was shaved off while still having bits of plastic still gripped to it.

Never fear, cane tips can be removed and replaced when they wear out, replacing the whole cane is not necessary.

Some tips slip on or twist on. Others hook on. By hook on I mean that the elastic that keeps the cane sections together also has a loop at the tip end that a hook onto and stay held into place. Look back at the photo of the rolling marshmallow tip and you will see the hook that attaches to the black elastic.

Cane tips sell for about 5 - 10 U.S. dollars, plus shipping, so it’s advised to buy several back up tips with your cane. I replace my rolling marshmallow tips once every six to twelve months. I don’t know if that’s considered too much or too often. The last time I needed to replace mine was June 2019 (It’s July 2020 at the date of writing this, but I’ve hardly left my home for the last six months because of COVID-virus related quarantine/social distancing.)

Sensory Details/Describing What Using a Cane Feels Like

Every surface type feels and sounds different when tapping or rolling a cane over it. It’s this difference that tells us a lot about our environment.

It tells us when we stepped off the side walk onto the grass, when we’ve walked inside because the concrete changes to wood or carpet flooring. These little details become trail markers too, useful for places we anticipate traveling to a lot.

Example: A week before every semester in college, I would travel to each of the classrooms and learn necessary routes. I learned that certain paths had giant cracks in the sidewalk that would be distinct enough to use as a trail marker to where I was on a path, or that certain paths went from cement to gravel, or cement to brick.

Carpet: The sound is very soft, and if you’re rolling your cane across carpet it sounds like a quiet swish-swish-swish. Tapping sounds depend on how thick the carpet padding underneath is, the thicker the carpet the softer the sound. If there’s a lot of padding then taps don’t make much sound, but if the padding is thin or underneath the carpet is tile or concrete then you hear a louder thudding tap. It’s still pretty quiet. If you’re rolling the cane you would feel a little bit of drag, the cane moves slower over the carpet. The thicker or shaggier the carpet is, the more drag it has.

Wood floor: Cane tips make rumbling sounds when rolling over wood floors. The smoother the wood, the less it rumbles. There’s a little vibration moving from the cane tip, through the cane and into your hand as you roll over wood planks. Very small. The more sensitive you are to vibrations, the more you feel it. Tapping makes hallow, thudding sounds on the wood. Sometimes they sound a little snappish if you’re tapping harshly. You feel stronger vibrations when tapping. Older wood feels softer, with more give. New wood is stronger, more vibrations in the cane.

Tile:It depends on the size of the tiles and the wideness of the grout lines, but it’s not a pleasant feeling. Tiles have grout lines, which are little divets between the tiles. The smaller the tiles or rougher the grout lines are, the more the cane vibrates in your hands. Every bump is felt running from the cane to your hand. The sound is a little grating too. Imagine fifty sets of stiletto shoes walking on tile, that’s what it sounds like when you roll your cane over rough, small tiles. Larger tiles with smoother grout lines aren’t so bad. Tapping the tile with your cane sounds like one really loud step of a stiletto heal, one step for each tap. Tile floors are usually found in bathrooms, kitchens, and industrial locations where the room is going to have harder walls (more tile, concrete, etc) and few furniture, so the room echoes more.

Linoleum: is a smooth even surface. It feels like your cane is gliding when you roll it, barely feeling any vibrations. The rolling sounds are very soft because of the lack of bumps, however tapping sounds are a bit louder. Not as snappish as tile or marble, but almost.

Marble: is similar to linoleum in its smoothness. Your cane glides when rolling. Tapping sounds are sharp. Because marble floors are common in high end malls, luxury homes, and fancy office building entries, places that usually have high ceilings and hard walls with minimal decorations and minimalist furnishing, those sharp tapping sounds may echo. Assuming there isn’t too much noise and the environment is relatively quiet.

Concrete: (I’m referring to concrete found in parking garages and industrial buildings, not sidewalk) It depends on the age of the concrete and how it’s maintained. Old concrete with lots of cracks and mini-craters feels very different from smooth concrete that was set less than a year ago. With old concrete there’s a rattling sound as your cane tip rolls over the bumps and those vibrations travel up your cane. New concrete can feel similar to marble or linoleum. The taps are loud thuds on dull concrete and sharper on new concrete.

Sidewalks: are made of concrete, but in my experience they feel a little different than the above example. Sidewalks have a grittier surface, they’re slightly rougher, more dry. There’s a bit more rolling cane vibration with sidewalks and the taps have more of a thud sound. And because they’re outside, you’re unlikely to hear any echoes unless you’re walking in an alley or between buildings.

Asphalt: is one of the worst surfaces in my personal opinion. Asphalt is the material used in roads and it’s made to be rough and gritty so that car tires can grip onto it and not lose traction while driving. The older and more damaged it is, the rougher it is. Because it’s rough the vibrations are much stronger, sometimes irritatingly so. I can’t roll my cane over asphalt because the bones in my hand can’t handle those kinds of vibrations, so I almost always use the tapping method instead. The sounds are gritty and dull. Unfortunately, asphalt is an unavoidable surface, unless you can find a way to never need to cross a street or walk through a parking lot.

Note: the white or yellow lines that have been painted into asphalt sometimes feel smoother because of the material they’re made of and because they’re added after the asphalt has been laid down.

Note: There’s something called tarmac which is similar to asphalt, used for a similar purpose, and more common in the U.K. (I believe) but I can’t say that I’ve ever knowingly walked on it so I have no personal experience to give you.

Gravel: Another one of those evil surfaces. Gravel is just loose rocks and they’re common in rural roads, driveways, some landscaping. The looseness of them is what makes them untrustworthy. It makes a crunching sound. If you roll your cane, you’re likely to end up tossing small bits of rock and dust here and there. If you tap, you’ll hear the crunch but your brain might not translate that into “it’s gravel” until you’re walking on it and only realize when you walk over it and the sharp rocks begin digging into your shoes.

Wood Chips: I don’t have any experience with this since vision loss and getting a cane, so I’m using my memories of being on the playground in grade school because the surface on the playground was wood chips. I’d say wood ships are a love child between gravel and wood floors. The surface is loose and rolling your cane over it would kick up loose chips and dust. It would probably sound similar to walking on sand I think, because wood chips are much softer than gravel but not as consistent as wood. If it’s rained recently, then the waterlogged wood chips sound even softer.

Hard Dirt: I’m thinking dirt roads here, which are a lesser evil to asphalt and gravel. They can be rough like all roads, but the material isn’t has hard and solid. Rolling your cane will kick up dust on a dry day, but if it rained a few days ago you might hear a soft crunch as you roll over wet dirt. Tapping will have a very soft thud.

Soft Dirt: Think gardening dirt. Because it’s so soft, it makes very little sound and is easily kicked up. There’s a bit of drag, about the same or slightly more drag than grass or sand. Tapping has almost no sound but you might feel a slight give as your tip lands in the dirt, a slight resistance as it sinks in.

Mud: Yuck. I’m imagining this getting in my cane tip and how gross it would be after. Sound and feeling depend on how wet the mud is. Wet mud sounds slurpy. There’s more squish if you roll or tap your cane. Your character might not identify it right away until their shoes begin slipping as they walk over the mud. This is a personal experience. Drier mud sounds soft and feels almost solid underneath your cane. Wetter mud has more drag for a rolling cane. Muddy areas are also generally uneven because top soil has been displaced, so muddy hills and fields have unexpected but usually subtle changes in elevation.

Puddles: have both a slurpy and splash-splash sound. The slurpy sound is more common with rolling cane techniques. The splash sound is more common with tapping. The deeper the puddle, the louder is sounds and the more drag you experience. I am not fond of this texture/experience.

Snow: I have zero experience with snow since the development of blindness. So no experience of what it’s like to walk through with a cane. This is something I hope a blind reader can inform me on so I can edit this at a later date. My best guess is that it has a soft crunch, softer than the crunch of shoes in snow. A lot of drag too. Rolling through snow would probably be near impossible, especially if it’s deep snow or hard packed. Again, my best guess. The last time I experienced snow was when I was twelve.

Grass: One of my least favorites personally. Too much drag. Worse than shag carpeting. It’s very soft and doesn’t make much sound either. Like a crisp crunch you can barely hear. If the grass is wet or frosty you hear it a bit more crunch.

Surface with fallen Autumn leaves: Leaves everywhere! This is a bit dependant on whatever surface the leaves are on. It would soften the sound of cement, but there would be a louder crunch on grass. If the leaves are big and very curvy/pocketed then they’re easy to push aside. Smaller, flatter leaves don’t push as easily. The driest ones will crunch under your cane. It’s fun sometimes, if you’re the kind of person who likes stepping on leaves on purpose, but if you can’t see the leaves it might lose some of its fun and be more unexpected. 

Sand: I’ve never personally taken my cane to the beach, despite living so close to the coast. The reason is because beach sand is so squishy and loose that it’s already impossible to stay steady on your feet. The sand is always sinking under your feet, unless you’re next to the water line and the dampness has made it firmer. So a cane isn’t very useful to me at the beach. Not to mention that sand isn’t something you want inside your cane joints if you want the cane to last. Sand will erode and damage the joints, regardless of if they’re metal or plastic. If I were to take my cane to the beach, it would make the softest crunching-swishy noise of sand sliding over sand, similar to what your footsteps sound like on sand, but possibly even quieter because canes are lighter.

Side Note: My mother sarcastically asked about rolling your cane through dog poop or gum left on the floor. Can’t say I’ve ever rolled through it, so couldn’t tell you. Use your imagination I guess, Mum

The Invention of Tactile Paving

These are amazing! Tactile Paving are those yellow (or sometimes grey) bumpy squares you see on ramps leading into parking lots or when crossing the street. In 1965, Japanese engineer Seiichi Miyake used his own money to develop a tactile brick that you could feel even when walking over it with shoes, and he designed this because a friend of his was losing their vision and he wanted to help. These are amazing, and accessible to everyone, even the blind who don’t have a cane or guide dog. These are literal life savers. Before I got my cane, if I felt those bumps under my shoes I knew to immediately stop because I was about to walk into the road. Because less than 10% of the blind community uses canes or guide dogs, this is the most accessible form of blind aide available.

[Image Description: a yellow rectangle of tactile paving in front of a ramp leading into a parking lot. End Image Description]

Note: similar detail, most doors in commercial buildings (in my localized experience) have a metal plate on the threshold to hold the door in place so there are no cracks underneath. The metal scraping sound when you roll or tap your cane on it is distinct but temporary and non-repeating, so it’s a good indication that you’ve reached and passed the threshold.

Blind-isms

I have a section in this guide about blind-isms, but these ones are focused specifically on cane use.

-Do. Not. Touch. My. Cane. Don’t. Just fucking don’t.

-The above ism comes from the fact that our cane is our safety net, an extension of our body, our eyes, the one thing that makes sure we’ll get somewhere safely. For that reason, blind people hate having their canes (or their on duty guide dogs) touched by strangers, acquaintances, friends we’re not very close to, some family members.

Important Note: That is a universal thing for disabled people. Don’t. Touch. Their. Mobility Aides. It’s assault. Touching someone’s wheelchair or pushing them around without their expressed permission is assault. Moving their wheelchair while the user is currently standing is assault. (Most wheelchair users are not paralyzed, but they still need the wheelchair because of their medical condition, which is not your business to know). It doesn’t matter if the wheelchair is in the way, the disabled person needs it right there, do not touch it. Touching or grabbing someone’s support cane or their long cane is assault. Touching or moving someone’s walker is assault. Touching, poking at, or tampering with someone’s hearing aids is assault. Touching their oxygen tank or cannula is assault.

Back on topic-

-Idle motions with your cane while waiting in line. I often rest my chin on my cane or lean on it

-twirl my cane like a staff when I’m alone and no one can see. I would not ever do this in front of anyone because I don’t want anyone thinking it’s a toy or they can just touch or grab it. I’m just a little childish and bored sometimes and idle motions are a common thing for people with ADHD.

-When carrying my folded cane inside (like say a store) I hang it from my wrist by the strap.

-Keeping my cane within arms reach at all times, even in situations where I don’t need it currently. Example: if we’re doing a classroom assignment where I need to leave my desk, I know the classroom well enough to not use my cane, but I won’t leave it at my desk, ever. (This does not apply at home. And in the homes of a very few, very trusted friends I will leave it somewhere I deem safe.)

-Having a set, specific place in my home (living with my immediate family, who almost never have guests) for my cane. In my case, it’s the top of an antique dresser in the living room, across from the door. It has a little bowl for my sunglasses as well. If I move out and have roommates, my cane will be in my room.

-Love me a bag or backpack that has enough space to discretely store your cane, but most of my bags cannot do that.

-People with folding canes develop a muscle memory for folding and unfolding their cane, so they can do it without really thinking about it.

-Unfolding my cane: I hold the black handle between my thumb and palm with my other fingers folded over the remaining three sections, cane tip pointing up. I slide the elastic over the tip, loosen my four fingers and roll my wrist to the side. The red colored section unfolds first and snaps into place with its neighboring section. I roll my wrist in the opposite direction so the next white section can unfold and snap into place with it’s neighboring section. Roll it back in the first direction and the third section snaps into place with the handle. My four section cane is now unfolded and straight.

-Sometimes I just grab the black handle and let the sections fall and unfold as they will, but this is less controlled and risks your cane bumping into something or someone.

-Folding my cane: I start with the black handle, lifting it up so the joints unlock. I fold it down, grab both sections in my hand and lift the second section away from the third and fold it over. Wrap my hand over all three sections and unlock it from the red section.

-Because I have a four section folding cane, the cane tip and the handle are on the same side while the metal joints are on the opposite side. Those metal joints are what my elastic slips over.

-A three or five folding cane will have the head of the handle (and its elastic) on the opposite side of the cane tip, and you will be folding the elastic over the cane joints and tip.

-A six section cane has the tip and handle facing the same direction like the four section cane.

-People with non-folding canes like leaning their canes up against walls and other objects when not in use. Corners are popular, the corner of a desk up against a wall too.

-But oh god the frustration when the cane randomly rolls out of place and hits the floor, it’s a combination of “Not again” and “did that really just happen” and “you had one job. one job.”

-Sitting with our cane tucked between our legs. Picture a bit of man spreading, the cane tip leaned against the side of our foot to keep it stable and the cane leaning against our shoulder or opposite knee, possibly also held securely with our fingers too.

-The no-manspreading alternative of that is with the cane leaning against our shoulder, cane tip resting on the toe of our shoe or the outside of it, held securely with our fingers or our arm wrapped around it, elbow hooking it.

(Okay, a while back I was looking for photos of someone using a cane to use as a reference for drawing Ulric. I only found three, and two of them were Daredevil promo photos. Which, no offense to Charlie Cox, but he is not blind and he does not use a cane in his daily life, he does not have that relationship a blind person has with a cane and the concept of a fifth limb, and it shows. So the photos were stiff and unusable, so I had to like use several photo references of different poses and Frankenstein them together to get what I wanted.

And I still haven’t finished the painting... fuck)

-In a car with a non-folding cane: 

-Right passenger seat- The cane tip goes all the way into the corner of the foot well to the right of my feet, with the handle resting over my right shoulder or on the seatbelt. It pokes a bit past my headrest. The longer the cane, the harder it is to tuck into a car.

-The U.K. / Austrailian / New Zealand / Japan version of this (because they drive on the left side of the road with their drivers seats on the right side of the car) it’s like this: Cane tip in the foot well to the left of my feet, handle on my left shoulder or on the seatbelt.

Backseat: the absolute worst. There’s less foot well room, and if you’re in a sedan there is almost no room behind your shoulder for the handle. I position my cane diagonally with the handle on the shoulder closest to the door and the tip next to the foot closest to the middle. 

-For this reason, no one with a non-folding cane will want to be sitting in the backseat.

About Guide Dogs

While my knowledge of guide dogs is limited only to what I can research and not personal, I will give you some basic facts and practical knowledge from said research.

Guiding Eyes for the Blind estimates that there are 10,000 guide dog teams out there in the world. That makes up 2% of the blind and visually impaired community.

Guide Dog Training

Becoming a guide dog is the most difficult form of dog training there is. The majority of dogs who enter guide dog training wash out and either become family dogs or go into a different type of service dog training, like medical response or PTSD/anxiety response, or possibly become therapy dogs, which is a career altogether different from being a service dog.

Guide dogs go through two or three years of training, which includes puppy training, basic socialization, proper behavior when on duty and actual guide training. Most service dogs only go through a year to a year and a half of training before they are partnered with a disabled handler.

Between the cost of training, the cost of housing and feeding the dog and the cost of vet bills from birth until being partnered with a blind handler, the overall cost of a guide dog is something like 30k to 40k. While most service dog training organizations require handlers to fundraise and pay for the cost of training (usually something like 15-30k), guide dog organizations give their dogs to qualified blind clients for free. These organizations pay for the dog costs through their own fundraising and charities. Fortunately for these organizations, guide dogs are a highly respected field and have a lot more charity directed their way, while other service dog types have less public interest when it comes to charity.

Guide Dog organizations have an application process, requirements, and a wait-list before you can be partnered with a guide dog.

Requirements to get a guide dog are (usually) as follows: 

Must be legally blind (as in not visually impaired, but legally blind) and have had at least six months of O&M with a cane and demonstrate enough O&M stills to navigate by oneself. They also require you to be responsible enough to independently care for a dog, able to keep up with training and retraining of the dog, as well as financially able to handle food and vet bills (which are at least a few thousand dollars every year).

The reason for cane training before getting a guide dog is because the dog cannot do everything for you. You, the dog handler, are responsible for knowing where you are and how to get where you need to be.

The dog can’t read stop signs or tell when a light is green or red, nor do they have GPS to find a brand new location nor can they learn that route on the first try, nor will they know exactly where you want to go when you say “Starbucks” or “library” or “school” or “mom’s house” and guide you all by themselves. That falls on you, the dog handler, having enough orientation and mobility skills to know when a street is safe to cross and knowing how to learn new routes and how to keep on route and make sure you make the correct turns. A guide dog can’t communicate with bus drivers for you either, they don’t know which number bus to use or what stop to choose. That falls on the blind person’s own skill.

Other Guide Dog Resources

Molly Burke is a guide dog user and has made several videos about what kind of work guide dogs do, her personal experience being a guide dog user for over ten years, how she got a guide dog, specific commands, unique experiences with things like travel, etc. She has a playlist all about guide dogs, but here are some of my favorite videos.

How Guide Dogs Guide A Blind Person

Guide Dog User Answers the Most Googled Questions about Guide Dogs

How I Met My First Guide Dog

Final Thoughts:

There is a lot more to be said about Orientation and Mobility, such as:

How do you safely cross the street with a cane?

How do you learn new routes?

How does getting a cane significantly change your life?

How do family, friends, and strangers react to you “suddenly” having a cane?

I could also write a ton on other tools the blind community relies on so strongly, such as screen readers, magnifiers, etc. In fact, I originally promised to include those in my master post when Part Four was titled  Part Four: What Your Blind Character Needs to Survive and Not Die. However, this guide is ages long and it feels better to focus on this specific topic for here.

Did you like this guide?

Consider checking out my other guides, links of which can be found on the master post here.

Follow my blog, I write and curate writing advice guides outside of blindness, I reblog writing memes with image descriptions, reblog soothing aesthetic photos with image descriptions, talk about disability, lgbtqa+ issues, ableism, and mental health.

If you want to further support me, this is the link to my ko-fi (however there is no such requirement nor pressure to do so, and please don’t worry about it, especially if you are in a financial situation that can’t afford it)

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part 5

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part four here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

*Please read to the end for another author’s note!*

A/N: Warning, folks! Here be smut! Nothing too dark in this chapter as far as gore or violence goes, though. Which... I suppose is a plus, considering this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Too good to be true.

That was the thought that kept plaguing you, even four months later. He’s too good to be true. This relationship is too good to be true. What happens when I figure out that this is too good to possibly be true?

And yet, day after day, Loki continued to prove you wrong. It wasn’t all just the big romantic overtures that you found out he loved to make. (Like the time he had a dozen red roses delivered to your door on your one-months anniversary. Or the brand new matching wireless keyboard and mouse he got to make writing easier for you. Or the time he took you to a quaint, tucked away speak-easy to treat you to a night of drinks and slow dancing.)

It was in the little things, too. How he would come over on days where you felt less-than-good to hold you and watch your favorite movies. Or how he would send you texts throughout the day to tell you about an interesting case at work, or to ask you what you wanted for dinner on date night, or just to tell you that he was thinking about you.

In fact, some would even say that he was too attentive, too perfect, and were it anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in your head. But there was something about him that made you keep coming back for more, and even with months now behind you, you still couldn’t get enough.

And maybe that was why you were so nervous right now. Pacing back and forth across the length of your bedroom, you stared down at your stocking-clad feet as you tried frantically to tamp down the butterflies batting around your rib cage. You knew, consciously, that even if tonight were a disaster, Loki would still care about you. He wouldn’t just up and leave, even if Thor ended up despising you.

But you still really hoped he wouldn’t.

A gasp parted your lips when the tell-tale sound of your doorbell echoed throughout your home, and after one more deep breath, you pulled your heels on and made your way down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick, silent prayer to whoever might be listening, you threw your purse over your shoulder and opened your front door.

His smile still caught you off guard sometimes. As you stepped out into the darkness of the evening, you felt heat flood your cheeks as Loki grinned up at you. He was dressed impeccably as always, sporting a dark green suit with a crisp white shirt, and if the way his eyes raked over you was anything to go by, he was more than pleased with how you looked, as well.

“And you must be the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

A loud, booming voice took you off guard, and you watched as annoyance flashed over your boyfriend’s face at the outburst. As he turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder, you caught a flash of the other man waiting at the base of your front steps, and though you already knew that Loki was adopted, you were still briefly taken aback by just how different the two brothers were.

Thor was just as large as Loki had described, and although the two stood at about the same height, his shoulders and build were so broad that he would have been quite intimidating, were it not for the large grin on his face. His long hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off a pair of blue eyes that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, and despite your still-present nerves, you couldn’t help but let a matching smile come over your features.

“Hi, Thor. Loki’s told me so much about you.”

“And I’m sure all of it is incredibly flattering, right?” He sent a conspiratorial glance back to Loki, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever could I tell her about you that wouldn’t be flattering, brother?”

“Nothing comes to mind, seeing whereas I’ve never done anything wrong or questionable.”

“Thor Odinson? Perish the thought.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter before turning back to you and extending his arm for a handshake.

“Well, my brother has nothing but glowing remarks about you,” he remarked, all but crushing your hand in his grip. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally meet the woman who’s stolen Loki’s heart.”

Once more, you felt heat rising in your face, and you let out a nervous chuckle as Thor dropped your hand. From your right, you felt an arm slither around your waist, and you leaned into Loki’s warmth.

“Thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“You don’t need to lie for his sake, love,” Loki stage-whispered into your ear. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a nudge with your elbow, though Thor seemed to be used to his brother’s sass. Without a glance in his direction, Thor reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, clicking a button on them until you heard a car beep close by.

“Shall we be off, then?” he asked. “We have about twenty minutes until our reservation.”

“That is if his driving doesn’t kill us along the way,” Loki snarked, guiding you towards the car with a hand on your lower back.

“I didn’t hear you offering to drive earlier, Loki,” Thor commented, sending his brother a look that elicited a scowl in response.

“Only because my car is in the shop. Remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You giggled at the pained look your boyfriend sent you, pecking his cheek as Thor made his way around to the driver’s seat. Loki offered to sit in the back, but after a few moments of deliberation, you ended up sitting in the back with Loki on the passenger side next to Thor. Your seating arrangements ended up working out perfectly, though, because you had the perfect vantage point to watch the two brothers bicker over how to get to the restaurant. Loki was doing his best to navigate, but… Well. You quickly learned that it was of no use with Thor behind the wheel.

“I said take a left at Sycamore, Thor.”

“I heard you. But there’s a shortcut between Sycamore and Highland Street.”

“No, there’s not. Have you even driven through this part of New York before?”

“You forget I used to live here, too, brother. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh, just like you did when we were driving through London, yes?”

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t had tried to-“

“WATCH FOR PEDESTRIANS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

Needless to say, the twenty minute drive was eventful to say the least, and you were only mildly traumatized by the way Thor was bobbing and weaving through the thick New York traffic. Even Loki looked a bit green from it, and you’d never seen your boyfriend shaken by anything. When both of you had your feet once again on solid ground, he wrapped an arm around you once again and whispered against your hair.

“I really do apologize for all of that, darling.”

“No, please don’t. It was funny,” you assured him, pecking his cheek as Thor rounded the vehicle towards you. “Usually you’re so…unperturbed. It was nice to see you a little ruffled.”

He sent you a bemused smile, but it vanished as Thor clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps.

“Well, nothing ruffles Loki’s feathers like me. It took an entire month of convincing for him to even agree to me visiting.”

“A decision I’m regretting more and more as the minutes tick by…”

Soon enough, the three of you were sat at a table in one of the nicest restaurants you’d ever been to. Surprisingly enough, Thor had recommended the place, and after your waiter came by to take your drink orders, you rested your hand on top of Loki’s and turned towards the blonde.

“Thank you for the restaurant suggestion, Thor. How’d you hear about this place?”

“My girlfriend actually told me about it. Usually when I’m in New York on business, I just go to local food trucks or pizza parlors. But Jane said that I should take you two somewhere nice. She apologizes for not being able to make the trip, by the way. She was just as curious about you as I was, but she had an important conference to give a lecture at.”

“That sounds amazing! And no worries; I’d love to meet her next time you’re in town. What do the two of you do for a living?”

“Well, Jane is an astronomer – one of the best in the entire world, actually,” he started, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his partner. “She’s lecturing on a new design she’s invented, some sort of spectrometer. Honestly, it all goes way over my head, but that’s why she’s the genius.”

“To be fair, most things go over your head, brother.”

Thor rolled his eyes at Loki’s quip, and when you turned towards your boyfriend, you saw that he had a small smile on his face to match the mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew better than to take him seriously; anyone would be able to see how close the two were, despite their back-and-forth.

“And what about you, Thor? Loki’s never told me what you do for a living.”

“I work for Stark Industries,” he replied, taking a sip of the large pint of beer he’d ordered. “It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.”

“Not much, indeed,” Loki interjected. “You’re only in charge of the entire marketing department, after all.”

Your eyes widened at that; Stark Industries was one of the biggest, most well-known brand names in the world. From appliances to electronics to clean energy, it was right up there with Google and Disney as far as most were concerned, and to think that Thor was in such a high-ranking position, well… From the things Loki had told you about Thor, you hadn’t expected such a career for him.

“Wow. That’s…incredible. So you know Tony Stark?”

“Oh, me and Tony are great friends. But I don’t ‘run’ the marketing department by any means. Just the UK faction of it.”

“’Just’?”

After that, the waiter stopped by to take your respective orders, after which Thor settled his attention on you once more.

“So, Loki has already told me about your writing. It’s funny to think of him dating the author responsible for those books he’s obsessed over for years.”

“I’m not obse-“

“Has he asked you to sign any of his copies yet?”

He had, jokingly, at one point. But you didn’t tell Thor that.

The rest of the evening passed by without incident, and your nerves quickly evaporated as the three of you laughed and talked through the rest of the meal. Loki liked to joke at Thor’s expense, but it was clear that he held his older brother in high regard, and Thor clearly loved Loki very much. More than a few times, you caught him watching you and Loki closely, a discerning, considering look in his eyes that belayed an intelligence you hadn’t expected. He might not be as book smart or as well-spoken as his younger sibling, but Thor obviously was good when it came to reading people. Whatever he was looking at, though, it didn’t disappoint, because any time your eyes met, he would send you a small, encouraging smile that would immediately dissipate any worries you might have had.

In what felt like no time at all, the three of you were piling out of the car at your house again, and you didn’t hesitate to return Thor’s hug as he said his goodbyes.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” he assured you. “Loki’s never let me meet any of his girlfriends before, but I see now that he was just waiting for the right one to come along first.”

Taken off guard by his genuine compliment, you could only blink up at him for a few moments in surprise before your brain kicked back in.

“That’s…so kind of you to say, Thor. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

After clapping you on the shoulder, Thor said his goodbye and got back into his car, giving you and Loki some privacy. As soon as his blonde head disappeared into the vehicle, you felt two cold hands cup your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss, and you let yourself melt into your boyfriend’s embrace as he held you against him.

“That went well, I would say,” he murmured as the two of you finally parted. “He likes you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“I like him, too,” you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you watched as uncertainty began to creep along his features, and after a few moments of considering, his mouth snapped shut once again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I forgot what I was going to say, is all. I think driving with Thor still has my brains slightly scrambled.”

“Hm.” You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but whatever it was left your mind as soon as his lips came down onto yours once more. This kiss was slower than before, and lingering; his hands slid up over your hips to settle on your waist, and he let out a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away to set his forehead on yours.

“I should probably head home,” he whispered. “But Thor leaves out tomorrow morning. Would you like to come over tomorrow?”

“For dinner?”

“And dessert.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his lips before taking a step towards your door.

“I love you, Loki. Have a good rest of your evening.”

“I will, darling. But only because I’ll be thinking of you.”

_______________

The two men drove in silence back to Loki’s house, leaving him to think back over the evening. It couldn’t have gone better, in his opinion. Thor liked you, but Thor was a bit like a golden retriever in that way. He loved most of the people he met, whereas Loki had always been more comparable to a cat; he needed to trust someone before deciding whether or not he liked them, typically, and his trust was not easily gained. In fact, there were only two people in the world he truly trusted, and now, they’d both finally made the other’s acquaintance.

The silence was finally broken when Thor parked in front of Loki’s home. As they both sat there, illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights, his elder brother turned to face him fully.

“I like her,” he announced, as though Loki couldn’t already tell that. “Does she know?”

Loki arched an eyebrow before getting out of the car and fishing his keys out of his pocket, striding up to his door as his brother scrambled to catch up with him.

“I have no idea what you could be alluding to,” he replied, opening his front door and bending down to scoop up Lovecraft, who had a habit of swiping at Thor anytime he tried to enter the house.

“Oh, I wonder,” Thor countered, shutting the door behind him before peeling off his winter coat. “I suppose I could be talking about your allergy to dogs. Or perhaps your aversion to the color orange. Or, oh, I don’t know, your habit of murdering innocents. Who knows?”

With a roll of his eyes, Loki hung his coat up beside Thor’s and started striding towards his basement stairs, trusting Thor to follow him.

“How many times must I tell you – there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’. Not in today’s world, at least.”

“Try telling that to a jury.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that point,” Loki sighed. He bypassed the first room of his basement, not giving a second glance to the old, miscellaneous pieces of furniture and the stacked boxes of keepsakes from childhood. No, instead he focused on the large, dusty bookshelf that covered the far wall of the room, reaching for the thick compendium of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets that hid the keyhole.

“I’ll never get used to being down here…” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically small in here; usually, his baritone could be heard from several rooms away, but his mood always took a dark turn when he was reminded of Loki’s…’proclivities’.

“You can always wait upstairs, you know,” Loki uttered without a backwards glance, fitting the small key into the lock and twisting until he heard a click.

“I know,” his brother assured him. “But I promised I’d help you, so let’s just get this over with.”

Smirking, Loki pocketed his keys and pulled the hidden door open, watching a section of the bookcase separate from the rest and turn on the hinges he’d installed so long ago. The creaking shriek they elicited made him wince, and he made a mental note to grease them before his next houseguest.

Luckily for Thor, the only beings alive or dead in Loki’s house were the two of them and Lovecraft, who pattered in after them before jumping up onto the chair in the corner. He typically didn’t allow his cat entry to this room, for obvious reasons, but he decided to leave her be as he knelt next to the detached backseat from his car that was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I’ve already replaced the stuffing; you just need to help me reupholster, and then I can do the rest.”

Thor knelt beside him with a grumble, grabbing a staplegun from his wall of power tools and torture instruments as he kept his eyes stubbornly focused on the seat.

“You know, if you used plastic tarps like any self-respecting serial killer would, you wouldn’t have to reupholster anything in the first place,” he groused. Loki knew that he had a point, and he usually did use plastic when transporting his victims.

“…This one was a bit of a last minute decision,” he finally conceded. “But I’m handling it, as you can see.”

Thor’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, pausing in his struggle to roll out more fabric.

“Loki, you can’t afford to make many last minute decisions with this sort of thing,” he muttered, all joking gone from his voice. “You promised me you’d be careful if and when you get these…urges.”

“And I am,” Loki assured his brother. “Truthfully. No one has ever suspected me of anything. Not once, and you know that.”

With a huff, Thor nodded and continued his work, his movements echoing in the concrete chamber. In the back of his mind, Loki knew that his brother was right, though. Five months ago, he never would have been so careless as to get a victim’s blood on his suede car seats. But, now that he had you in his life, all of his passions seemed to be reigniting. For one, he’d never had as much sex in his previous relationships as he was having with you. He also never felt the need to talk to someone as much as he spoke with you; he hadn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends in the past, but the ones he’d had always complained about him being too distant, too aloof, too ‘unfeeling’. Now, though, he found himself craving you and your company at all times during the day, and his alone time was less and less precious to him as he considered how much better it would be having you by his side.

However, as those passions rose, others did as well. You and your newest novel were a constant source of inspiration to him, and his lust for blood had grown considerably. If he kept up the pace that he was at right now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he slipped up. But he pushed that thought aside, as he always had. That was a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.

“…Will you ever tell (Y/N)?”

Thor’s question was sudden, and it made his hands still as he reached for the staple gun.

“…Are you suggesting that I do?”

“Of course not.” Thor shook his head, biting back a curse as he tried stretching a length of suede over the car seat’s frame. “At least, not right now. I think both of us know that it wouldn’t end well. But this is a…mammoth secret to keep from a significant other, Loki. And if you weren’t able to hide it from me, there will come a day when you won’t be able to hide it from her, either. Not if you’re going to keep her in your life.”

“You didn’t find out until I was twenty,” he countered. “And you only found out because I got sloppy.”

“I still knew that there was something off. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I suspected the truth for years before I caught you in the act.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t know what was more surprising to him – the truth, or the fact that his brother was still able to take him off guard, even after all of the years spent together.

“…Truthfully?”

“Of course, Loki. I knew you weren’t sneaking out at night to go clubbing.” He chuckled a bit at the thought, though his laughter died the second he saw the look Loki shot him. “I saw you burning your clothes once, in the field behind our house. We were 17 at the time, I think. And I knew you wouldn’t burn them unless it were to hide…well. Bloodstains. It was the only explanation for why you decided to burn them in the middle of the night, at least.

“But I told myself that I was wrong. People do that, you know; when someone you love hurts you, or when they do something wrong, you know it. But you lie to yourself anyways.”

There was a long, heavy silence before the two brothers got back to work, one that was only broken several minutes later, when they were mostly finished.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Loki looked up, catching a solemn expression on Thor’s face that immediately didn’t sit right with him. For all of his sociopathic tendencies towards most people, he didn’t like to see his typically jovial sibling so serious.

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be you,” Thor sighed. “I’ve never fully understood how your mind works, but I know that it’s hard for you to let people in. So I’m happy for you and (Y/N). I am. But I also know that, someday, she’s going to find out. It can either be from you slipping up, or from you telling her outright. But, someday, she’s going to find out.

“I meant what I said – when you find out that someone you love is bad, and that they’ve done bad things, you lie to yourself before accepting the truth. Just…promise me that you’ll look out for when she starts lying to herself about you. Alright?”

Loki swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought about you, about how your face would twist into an expression of fear, of disgust, of hatred, when you finally found out about him. And his heart sank as he pictured the fragile reality you two had been living in all of a sudden crumpling into ash. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, but what other choice would he have if you found him out?

“What are you suggesting I do when she finds out?” he asked, a slight waver making its way through the syllables despite his best interest.

“I’m asking what you’re prepared to do, brother. Think it over, and please, just be careful.”

____________

You woke up the next day to find a text waiting for you from an unknown number, but as soon as you opened it, a wide smile came over your face.

Loki wouldn’t give me your number, so I had to get it out of his phone while he slept. But I wanted to tell you before I fly back to London that it was lovely meeting you, and I’m very happy my brother finally found someone he loves. -Thor

The text was sent at 6:14am, so you knew that Thor was likely already on his plane, but you still tapped out a message before getting up and starting your day.

It was great to meet you, too! Have a safe trip back.

With that, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and went about your morning routine, sending Loki a quick good morning text as you ate breakfast. You were planning on finishing up the last chapter of your coroner story, and you were excited to let him read it that evening when it was done. He’d been so supportive throughout the entire writing process that you were making record time on it; even your editor was surprised at how productive you’d been lately, and you were anxious for his thoughts on the ending.

As you sat down at your computer to type it up, though, you saw that you had an email from your publisher, and your heartrate skyrocketed as you opened it up. You’d sent them the first five edited chapters a few weeks back, and even though you already had several published books, you still got excited anytime you heard back from them.

Your heart only beat faster as you read through their email, and though you’d only just sat down, you were soon leaping out of your chair once you were done. They were going to publish it! At least, they were going to as soon as you had all of the chapters. You’d been concerned that your main character wouldn’t have as much appeal as others of yours had in the past, but as it turned out, they loved Olivia.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your phone was out of your pocket and you were dialing Loki’s number, your fingers trembling in excitement. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, he barely had time to say hello before you were telling him the good news.

“Hello, darling-“

“LOKI I HEARD BACK FROM MY PUBLISHER!” you cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Also hello! Good morning, my love.”

Loki’s velvety laugh only added to your elation, and you quickly ran up to your bedroom to start getting dressed.

“Good morning to you, too. I take it the news was good?”

“It was amazing news! Fantastic news, actually. I was going to finish the final chapter today, but now I’m too excited to focus!”

“Well, love, I’m sure that if you want to just take today to celebrate, it won’t put you too far behind schedule.”

“Speaking of celebrating, can I bring lunch by today on your break? If work isn’t too busy for you, that is.”

“That should be fine, darling; work is actually quite slow.”

“Perfect! I’m going to start getting dressed, but text me which restaurant you’d like, and I’ll pick it up. My treat!”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you around noon, then.”

After you two said your goodbyes, you flew through getting ready and ran a few errands before lunch time came around. Loki, as usually, had told you that he was fine with anything and that you should pick the restaurant, so you swung by your favorite bistro before taking a cab to Bellevue Hospital, waving at the front desk staff as you passed by. They all recognized you at this point from your previous visits to see Loki on his break, and they all smiled and waved back as you made your way to the elevators.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the receptionists calling you over, and so you shifted the food boxes in your hands and approached the desk.

“Dr. Odinson asked me to tell you that he’s in his office – it’s on the same floor as the morgue, but take a left instead of a right when you get out of the elevators. His is the third office on the left.”

After thanking her for letting you know, you headed down that way, shivering as you stepped out into the cold basement floor. His office had a bronze name placard on it that had Loki’s name on it, and so, after a quiet knock, you walked in to find him sitting behind a tidy desk, tapping away at his laptop furiously.

“I come bearing gifts!” you announced, causing his head to pop up from staring at his screen.

“Come in, love,” he smiled, standing up to help you with the food. “Thank you so much for lunch.”

“Don’t mention it! I wanted to celebrate the latest book, and I can think of no way I’d like to celebrate more than to spend time with the man I love. …And that was incredibly cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Loki laughed, pulling the chair in front of his desk out for you. “But it was also very sweet, and I appreciate it more than you realize.”

After setting your food down on the desk, you sat down, not realizing that Loki wasn’t going back to his side of the desk until you heard the click of a lock sliding shut behind you. Turning around, you watched as Loki stepped away from the door, approaching you with a conniving glint in his eyes.

“Did…you just lock the door?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I did,” he confirmed. He didn’t elaborate further before sinking down onto his knees in front of you, and you only caught on to his intent after he gently took the to-go cup out of your hands to rest it on his desk.

“…Am I stuck in here with you, or are you stuck in here with me?” you joked, starting to squirm in your chair as Loki’s hands came down onto your knees.

The only answer you got was a wink before his lips were on yours, and all other thoughts fizzled out as his palms started creeping up your thighs, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your jeans. His tongue tasted like coffee as it glided over your own, and a small moan escaped your lips when his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” you whispered as he started unbuttoning your pants. “I mean… What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, love,” he assured you, slowly dragging your zipper down before beginning to slide your jeans off. “No one can stop us from having a little celebration. As long as you can keep quiet, that is.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged your trousers down your legs, taking your panties with them, and you shivered when you felt the cold leather chair against your exposed skin. Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head, spreading your legs wider as Loki stooped down to place open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. It was wrong; you knew that there were other doctors in the offices right next to his, and you had no idea how thick or thin the walls were. Could they hear how hard you were suddenly breathing? Would someone passing by be able to hear the low, muffled groans Loki was making as he nipped and sucked hickeys into your skin?

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki glanced upwards as he spread your thighs even further apart, his lips twitching up into a smirk before he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass closer to the edge of the chair. In the same instance, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his nose just barely brushing against your clit as his tongue started lapping at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back he slipped it inside of you, the vibrations from his voice like bolts of lightning as he let out a guttural growl. He’d commented before on how much he loved eating you out, and you had no reason to doubt him as he thrust his tongue deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Loki…” You kept your voice at a soft whisper, gripping his hair as his tongue started alternating between thrusting into you and tracing patterns into your clit. Your hips jolted every time he swirled his tongue over your swollen bud, and it wasn’t long until they started rocking up against his face of their own accord. If you were at home, you’d already be begging for more or moaning his name over and over again, but now you were acutely conscious of every sound the two of you were making.

The panting of your breath and the obscene, slick noise of his tongue moving against you seemed to echo in the small room. With every shift of your hips, the chair you were in creaked, and you were soon fighting not to move too much for fear that it would be too loud. You were biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly tasted blood, but the pleasure Loki was bringing you overshadowed any pain or discomfort.

Just as you felt the edge of your orgasm starting to approach, though, he was pulling away, licking his lips and watching your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to guide him back with the hands you had locked in his hair.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck, I was getting close-“

“Don’t worry, love,” he interrupted, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m far from through with you.”

And that was all the warning you got before he scooped you up, setting you down onto his desk before you could do anything but let out a surprised gasp. At some point while he was eating you out, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, and now he was pushing you to lay on your back as he lined up with your entrance.

You gripped the edge of his desk so hard that your knuckles turned pale, but you still weren’t fully prepared for him to abruptly shove his cock inside of you, so hard that it pushed the air out of your lungs and pried a sharp moan from your lips. His hand came down over your mouth at its sound, and he leaned over you until your face was only inches from his.

“You have to stay quiet,” he panted, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back into you. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You hurriedly shook your head no, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and sliding it between your bodies. You nearly moaned again once his fingertips found your clit, though, and you pressed your own hand to your mouth as he began playing with it in time with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he purred, his own voice fighting back a moan as he started a fast rhythm. “Of course… Maybe you do want us to get caught.”

He punctuated his statement with a hard buck of his hips, and you pressed the back of your hand even harder to your lips as it startled another cry out you. The desk was beginning to creak in time with his movements, and you knew that anyone who walked by outside would be able to hear it. You just hoped that they couldn’t also hear Loki’s raspy breathing, or the way his balls were smacking against your ass with every thrust forward.

“Maybe you do want someone to hear me fucking you. Is that it?” he continued, his voice not once rising above a low growl. “Do you want them all to know that you’re mine? That you’re letting me use you, fuck you, right here in my office? Anyone with a key could get in, love. A janitor, another doctor… Anyone could come in and see what a good little slut you’re being for me. And you love that, don’t you?”

His thumb was moving faster and faster against your clit, and you were rapidly approaching your orgasm; you couldn’t remember the last time a partner had brought you so close so quickly. This was so different from how Loki usually was; typically, he was gentle with you, treating you like you would shatter if he were to grip you too tightly or kiss you too hard. But there were times, you’d found, when something else would peak through the cracks; some nights, his hand found its way around your throat, or his voice dropped into something predatory, threatening.

This was one of those times, evidently. And it always made something else rise up within you – the desire to submit, to bend to him completely, to let him have you and use you however he wanted. And so you did.

With a long, loud moan, you felt yourself cumming around his cock, so hard that it made your eyes roll back and your back arch up off of the desk, bending at an almost unnatural angle as your cunt clenched around him. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard him let out a muffled curse, and his thrusts began getting even harder, even faster, and through it all you laid back and took it. Your body was limp and pliable from your orgasm, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he took what he wanted from it.

It wasn’t long, though, until he pulled out, stroking his cock a few more times before you felt his cum against your thighs and belly, staining your shirt with his release as he leaned heavily over you, catching his breath. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he leaned over, kissing you gently before resting his head on your chest.

“…Wow,” you breathed, settling one of your hands on the back of his head as your other arm drew him closer.

“I agree with that assessment,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over your heart before lazily turning towards you. “You did say you wanted to celebrate, though.”

A giggle escaped your lips at that, and he smiled softly before kissing you once again and slowly drawing himself up to full height.

“I’m…sorry, if I was too rough,” he began, but you sat up and pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“I liked it. Loki, I know you’d never hurt me,” you assured him. “And I know you don’t really mean it when you do things like call me a slut.”

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes skating over your face. “Because I don’t. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”

“Then don’t apologize for getting a little rough,” you countered, pecking his cheek before starting to stand on wobbly legs. “Because you better believe I enjoyed it.”

“Mm. I could tell.”

You swatted playfully at his arm before straightening your jeans and grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at the cum he’d left on your shirt before giving up on the task entirely and deciding to just keep your coat buttoned up on the ride home.

“…(Y/N)?”

You turned to find Loki staring at you, having already smoothed his appearance back to its usual unrumpled state. The look in his eyes gave you pause, though – it was the same look that he’d had the night before, when he’d looked like he had something to tell you before deciding against it. Unbidden, fear suddenly swept over you, and you had the worst feeling that he was going to break things off, that he was going to tell you that he’d rushed into things and that he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Gulping, you stepped closer, fighting against the trembling in your hands as he took them between his, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before looking up at you once more.

“I’ve…been doing a lot of thinking, and Thor’s visit yesterday made me realize something,” he began.

“I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. And, if I’m being honest, sometimes it terrifies me. There are… There are things about me that I haven’t told anyone besides Thor, and even then, there are things he still doesn’t know.

“I came to the realization last night, though, that I want you to know everything about me. I want you to accept me, fully, as I’ve accepted you. And even if I’m not ready to share it all with you, I know that I want us to grow to that point together. I want you to be mine, yes, but I want to be yours, too. Wholly and completely.”

He took a deep breath, then, and your eyes grew wide as he reached into his pocket, taking out a small box and handing it to you.

“I had this made earlier today, after I dropped Thor off at the airport. And I realize that, yes, this is rushing things a bit, and I want you to know that it’s alright if you need to say no or if you need to think it over. But I’m ready to take the next step, whenever you are.”

Feeling as if time was suddenly moving in slow motion, you opened the box, tearing your eyes away from Loki just long enough to look down…

…and see a key waiting for you.

Immediately, your heart soared, and you looked up to see a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Will you move in with me, my love?”

And even though, yes, it was probably too soon, even though you’d only known Loki for four months, even though all of the logic inside of you was screaming against it, you didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Yes!”  

____________

A/N: WOW it took forever to write this. I am so sorry! 2020 has really had its way with me, as it has with all of us, and I can’t apologize enough for letting my writing get so far behind. THANK YOU to anyone and everyone reading this, though. I hope you all are having a safe holiday season, and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wanna talk! You guys are the best readers in the world, and I appreciate every single one of you! 

[gaybian-culture-is]

Hi, I hope you are having a nice day. I was reading your DNI and I am so concerned about the WoF wiki, I use it sometimes (barely) and I would be horrified if it was somehow problematic and I would like to stop using it if that is the case. Can you explain what is wrong with it? I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, I am genuinely worried about supporting problematic people!

no worries, this doesn't come off as rude at all! this is a bit of a long explanation, though, since most of it is context from back in 2021 and i can't really pull up this stuff due to Fandom as a whole just being a terrible website to navigate and since even though it's been several months since and we don't really get panic attacks regarding the events as much, we still kind of just err away from going on it on the side of caution and paranoia. so i'll just put it underneath the cut since it's also pretty long, if that helps

but the short version of this is just that at this point it's more of a personal boundary that we were going to tone down to just "regularly uses the wof wiki (canon/fanon) and/or is close with the mod team" in the updated pinned post that we were planning on making but are fine with taking it down here provided that the mod teams' views or at least stance on handling exclusionism within and outside of the mod teams themselves have changed as it is mostly just a personal boundary of ours - i do recommend reading the main post though since i do give more details of this that might be important

tw for anti-mspec lesbians, anti-lesboys, and anti-endos (generally just exclusionism - anti-endo stuff less so but. still warning just in case)

i'll be honest, it's been a while since we first made this blog and the initial dni, but honestly it was just more of a personal boundary that we couldn't really deal with at the time. it's more of that during the summer of 2021, the powerusers of it were pretty fine with anti-mspec lesbian and anti-lesboy sentiments as far as i'm aware, as one of the former admins was very open with these beliefs as well (not directly on the wof wiki except on their dni on their message wall greeting afaik - it was on a wiki that was run by another poweruser on the mod team, though and it does still stand). it was genuinely traumatizing for us at the time, since we had been in the process of realising that we collectively identified as a gaybian/lesbiveldian...plus we were kind of in touch with said admin and it didn't help that we already had really shitty experiences on that wiki prior. as for the fanon wiki when we had it on there (if it's still there? we were working on updating the pinned post as of late and have been procrastinating on it) we came across one of the admins being confronted about being anti-endogenic systems, anti-mspec lesbians, and anti-lesboys and it...was not a great post to read since they were defending those beliefs and doubling down on it

i don't know if that was exactly explained the best but yeah it was for that reason we mainly put it in the dni since. it was genuinely difficult for us and we genuinely could not handle it - we usually debated putting it in since like. we do struggle with a shitload of paranoia due to past wiki experiences and felt that we'd probably be mocked on both wiki's discord servers for essentially having trauma from it as iirc at least one of them had a drama channel and the other had and lgbtq+ focused channel that we also witnessed a lot of exclusionism towards mspec lesbians and lesboys in (which we...aren't exempt from as it was a really toxic environment and we did actually look up to the mods and people on there. it was difficult unlearning that last year as it was essentially spoodfed radfem-lite rhetoric). but we included both wikis since the mod teams were fairly close and i believe discussed/held similar beliefs as well

there's also other reasons as to why (both relating to past experiences for us personally as well as a few friends that i became closer with after several attempts of leaving it and events that i really just. would not feel comfortable with people who regularly used it) but considering this is a gaybian-centric sideblog i explicitly wanted to make it a safe space from people who are against mspec lesbians and lesboys considering there's a fair amount of gaybians who also consider themselves those labels too (not sure how effective it was considering. most people here i don't think would even know about wings of fire or the wiki unless they were in the fandom but. yeah it was just that and the combined paranoia that kicked it)

i have no idea if the moderators on either wiki have since changed their stances since then or if they still hold those beliefs but. it still was pretty recent all things considered and it's still something we can't really forget considering the shit that exclusionism put us through, especially as we were just discovering ourselves as a lesbiveldian and we're a system and that we've been plural for way longer than we thought (which we're only partly endogenic but point still stands, it did help us realise that way sooner). we're willing to bump it down a little but as it stands we're still generally kind of uncomfortable with people who regularly use the wiki or are close with the mod team for that reason, so we put that boundary up just in case. i and the others are willing to take it down a few notches if they've stopped being exclusionary towards mspec lesbians, lesboys, and in some cases endogenic systems or at least acknowledge it's not good to allow in any case at all, but we really don't want to 'talk things out' with anyone directly involved on the mod teams since. hhh yeah those times were not fun and we'd rather not repeat it

(and i know it's unlikely since. the massive wave of hatred that mspec lesbians and lesboys got in 2021 has died down since then and it's less popular for people to jump in on the bandwagon of hate but. we'd prefer it if no screenshots were taken of this post or aren't brought to our attention because it will make our paranoia about this whole situation flare up again and we still remember how the drama channel was back in 2021 :/)

- Ivy/Ashen (wy/re/he/shroom/she)

[butchchat]

Falling For You || Miraculous Ladybug AU - Chapter 2

AO3 | Falling - AU Series

[Previous] | [Next]

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

After her encounter with that new girl yesterday, Marinette was in a sort of daze. She had never felt this way before, yet the girl was on her mind for the entirety of that night. Her beautiful chocolate brown eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion, her short flowing hair, a few shades darker than her own… 

She sighed dreamily as she relaxed into her blankets, patrol had gone fairly well - sure she wasn't too thrilled about Crimson bailing on her and leaving her to do her job alone in the rain, but meeting that girl had certainly lifted her spirits. 

She was on the brink of sleep, her thoughts becoming muddled together until one thought, louder than the rest, was suddenly brought to her attention and she shot up in bed, her eyes full of panic.

“I forgot to ask her name!” Marinette whisper-yelled, aware her parents were sleeping just a few doors away.

Plagg, who had been curled up asleep on her pillow, gave no reaction to the horror-struck expression on her face and simply muttered under his breath before rolling over again.

“Plagg! What was that anyway?” Marinette demanded, “I mean Princess? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Hey, I didn't flirt with that girl, you did.” Plagg's voice was muffled as he tried to tune out her voice under the blankets.

“Well it was still your influence.” 

“Meh.” The small kwami shrugged before rolling back over.

Marinette rolled her eyes, frowning slightly as she reached out for her phone - blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the harsh brightness of her screen. Almost two in the morning, she groaned to herself, maybe she and Crimson needed to talk about how late their patrols were getting.

A brief notification flashed up on her phone, it was Adrien of course, sending a string of memes in their shared group chat with Alya and Nino. Marinette scoffed lightly before she placed her phone back down next to her pillow, not really in the mood to chat so early in the morning.

She could hear Plagg's soft snores from the other side of her pillow, careful not to wake him again she moved slowly as she turned over and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She could think about that girl later, right now all she wanted was some sleep before she faced another day at school. 

Sleep came as quickly as before only this time she managed to remain asleep without an sudden realizations hitting her. 

~~~

Though it felt like only a few seconds until she was woken once again by the sound of her alarm blaring underneath her pillow, Plagg floated above her, his expression unreadable. Marinette blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she reached under her pillow to shut the alarm off. 

Crap . Her eyes widened. She was going to be late - she hopped out of bed, almost stumbling over but luckily she caught herself and proceeded to run over to the closet to find some clothes to wear.

“Why didn't you tell me it was so late?” Marinette hissed accusingly at Plagg.

“Is that my job?” Plagg twitched an ear casually, “hey where's my cheese, you were too busy thinkin' about that girl last night that you forgot to give me any.” 

“I'll give you your stinkin' cheese once I'm dressed and actually able to think.” Marinette retorted, picking out a pair of jeans, a plain polo and a nice blue checkered shirt - maybe it's time I did switch things up a bit. She thought.

Racing into the bathroom she quickly put the outfit on, brushing her teeth just as fast she darted back into her room, pulling on her shoes and socks. Plagg watched, eyes lit up with amusement as she stumbled over multiple times in her panic.

She pulled her hair up into a small ponytail, not having enough time to put her hair into its usual style she grabbed her bag and gestured for Plagg to go inside.

“Cheese.” The black kwami said simply, folding his tiny arms across his chest.

“It's in the bag, now hurry up we need to go!”

Plagg zipped over as soon as she told him where the cheese was, she heard his quiet, contented purrs as he chewed at the camembert inside. She sighed, climbing down the ladder and walking through the bakery. Her parents were doing some deliveries early so she wasn't surprised when she didn't see them up to their usual business in the morning. 

Usually it was her mom that woke her up if she slept in so late, Plagg wasn't usually bothered much if they were late or not, he just cared about his morning cheese. 

She heaved a sigh, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she made her way outside, careful to remember to lock the doors as she did. She navigated her way through the busy streets of Paris, checking her phone every few seconds to keep a close eye on the time. 

As she walked, her mind wandered back to last night, the girl - she really should've remembered to ask her name - was at the center of her thoughts. Better just forget about it now, she thought to herself, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly, it's just one girl in a sea of millions, I probably won't see her again. 

She met Alya at the foot of the stairs to their school, the other girl was tapping her foot against the pavement rhythmically, a huge grin lit up her features.

“Hey, not too late, an improvement.” Alya congratulated.

“What're you so happy about?” Marinette questioned, coming to a stop beside her.

“Oh nothing,” Alya's smile got somehow larger, “just… guess who got an exclusive interview with the Bug himself!”

An interview with Crimson? Huh, Marinette never really thought Crim would be so open to doing interviews, even with a lesser known website such as the Crimson Blog. Though she had to owe it to Alya, that girl sure was dedicated to her work.

“How'd you manage that?” She said, smiling as the two started towards the door together.

“After yesterday's akuma attack he had some time left so I just quickly asked if he'd be willing to do a short interview about himself and Lady Noire. I tried to get her too but she was already gone after the attack.” She seemed slightly disappointed about that fact, admittedly that made Marinette's ego grow a little bit - she'd always thought that not many people cared about her compared to Crimson.

“I'm sure you'll get her next time.”

“I hope so! I have so many questions about their powers and where they came from—” Alya started babbling on, Marinette listened intently to her friend, still smiling to herself. 

It had been almost a full year since she'd received the ring along with Plagg and her new duty as a protector of Paris - almost a full year since Hawkmoth had started akumatizing innocent people and using them against their will to attempt to gain hers and Crimson's Miraculous.

For whatever purpose that was for.

In that time Marinette had seen a lot of close calls, the battles were tough and only getting tougher, but as long as Crimson was still standing to purify the akuma and fix everything then it was okay. 

Even if it meant sometimes sacrificing herself for his safety.

She shuddered.

Luckily, both she and Alya had a free period to share that morning until their next class after lunch, so the two girls took a seat on a bench closest to the yard. Alya continued talking about her admiration for Crimson and Lady Noire, and Marinette listened, though this was something she heard from Alya almost everyday she was still interested to know every detail.

“Sup dudes!” She raised her head to see Nino striding over, Adrien in tow. The blonde was beaming at them both.

“Hey babe,” Alya smiled, sitting up to embrace her boyfriend in a delicate hug, both Marinette and Adrien rolled their eyes in unison.

“Hey lovebirds, us single pringle's are tired of watching you guys make out all the time.” Marinette chirped as Alya leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah I'm kinda feeling like a third wheel here.” Adrien added.

“Fourth wheel.” Marinette corrected.

“Just because you guys can't find partners for yourselves doesn't mean you have to be salty about it.” Alya scoffed, giving Nino a brief kiss on the cheek before turning back to face them.

Adrien scoffed, “I could if I wanted to.”

“Alright sunshine incarnate.” 

“I could!”

“Mari couldn't possibly find a girlfriend, she literally shuts down when she so much as looks at a girl.” Nino put in.

“Dude.” Marinette said disapprovingly.

“He's not wrong.” 

Suddenly Adrien snapped his fingers, “I forgot to mention, there's a new student that should be arriving shortly who I want you to meet.”

“New student huh? Who are they?” 

“She should be here pretty soon.”

Alya elbowed Marinette lightly, “looks like this could be your chance to prove us wrong.”

Marinette shot her friend a quick glare.

Adrien looked over his shoulder, he then smiled and turned on his heel, “there she is. Hey Kagami!” He called out.

Marinette looked over to see a strikingly familiar girl walking up to them, dressed in a black shirt with a checkered red tie, a formal white blazer with a skirt matching the pattern of her tie and red sneakers. Dark hair, a few shades deeper than her own and dazzling, brown eyes.

No way, no way, no fucking way. Marinette thought in disbelief.

“Guys this is Kagami, she recently moved to Paris. Kagami, these are my friends, Alya, her boyfriend Nino and Marinette.” Adrien said cheerfully.

“Hey girl.” Alya said warmly.

“Nice to meet you dudette!” Nino dipped his hat in greeting.

Marinette could only manage a casual wave.

“It's a pleasure to meet all of you, I hope we can all become good friends.” Kagami said, the edges or her lips twitched upwards into a small smile.

Why couldn't she talk to her? She certainly had no problem with doing it last night. She cringed, remembering how she'd flirted and called her Princess . Way to screw up a first impression.

“I'm sure we will, any friend of Adrien is a friend of ours.” Alya told her.

Except Chloe. Marinette added on silently.

“That's very kind of you.” 

The group immediately dissolved into chatter, Alya was on her feet again, suddenly asking Kagami a string of questions.

“So, have you seen Crimson and Lady Noire yet?”

Marinette snapped her head up quickly, her attention pertained towards Kagami once again at Alya's question.

“I encountered Lady Noire last night.” Kagami said casually.

Marinette eagerly waited for her to say more on the subject.

“You talked to Lady Noire? Girl, tell me everything! ” Alya practically squealed.

Kagami seemed surprised, she most likely hadn't had this much social interaction before and was caught off guard.

“Well it was a very short meeting, but I had a small accident and luckily she happened to be passing by.”

“Saved by a heroine on your first day in Paris, what a story!” 

Marinette chuckled to herself.

She looked back up at Kagami who was looking more comfortable around the group already and a warm feeling filled her chest, she really hoped she'd get to know the girl more. Though, that was considering that she'd be able to form a single sentence when talking to her. 

She furrowed her brow slightly, it seemed all the confidence she had as Lady Noire melted away the moment the mask disappeared. Great, just wonderful . 

She swore she could almost feel Plagg's shaking laughter from her purse.

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long  making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.” 

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors. 

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?” 

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?” 

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint? 

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.” 

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way.  “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer.  “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today. 

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.  

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones.  “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I’m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set.  “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

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

The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her. 

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.” 

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her.  Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.” 

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.” 

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there.  Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her. 

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?” 

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes. 

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed. 

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat​  @sugaslittlekookies​  @janeelizabeth1216​ @deeepvibes​ @gxldenhunny​ @livelyjay​ @niniita-ah​ @bobbyboops​ @honeysunandsoil​ @deathkat657​

[yellowocaballero]

Human Relations Snippet: Tim teaches Jon the internet and odious goats are sacrificed to the cult of Bezos

There’s no reason for this to exist. I was rereading a bit of HR and I saw a throwaway joke about Jon wanting to buy Martin a Portal Gun. I started wondering about how that would even work. The answer is, obviously, a 200 year old man squinting at a computer screen wondering why there’s so many horny singles in his area. I get possessed by demons easily, so I took three hours out of writing my daemon au and wrote this instead. Bon Appetit. 

(Edit, quick clarification: I think that Jon would refuse to use the name for the Beholding that Smirke made up, and although all of this exists in my head and you guys don’t know this, there was a lot of tension between Jon and Jonah’s ‘circle’. So Jon hated Smirke and thought he was a hack. He uses Smirke’s terms to others sometimes for ease of understanding or in deference to Jonah (:/) but I think that mentally he mainly calls the Beholding his own name, The Witness. It rings of that personal and intimate connection Jon and the Beholding has. Anyway, onto the story.)

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him. 

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him.

Peter Lukas was right on almost nothing, Jon thought disgruntledly as he slammed his laptop shut - including in his taste of men, company, philosophies, men, patron deities, professions, and men - but he was right in his proclamation that the internet was the degradation of society. Not that he hadn’t sacrificed his morality and sold out, feeding his patron through something called “incel forums” and “Reddit”. Between him, Jonah’s “Excel spreadsheets” and “TurboTax”, and Annabelle Cane’s ridiculous “MMO guilds”, the Society was filling with computer geeks. Jon could always read the wind: he had to keep up, and quickly. 

Besides, Martin had kindly educated him on how it was almost unheard of for a young man like Jon to not understand how to work that Goggle thing. Giggle? Martin was very streetwise and was one of the most insightful people Jon had ever known, he was definitely right. 

Which is why he had to buy him this “Portal Gun” that he wanted. He had even shown Jon the website! And if Jon was in desperate times trying to navigate these confusing webpages entirely with URLs he memorized, then he would take desperate measures!

“I’m going down to the Archives,” Jon said, slithering off the couch and clutching his laptop to chest. Jonah had bought it for him. He appeared surprised that Jon was using it. “I may not be back for a while. I need...a book.”

Jonah didn’t look away from his own infernal machine. It seemed he was on that ‘Excel’ program again. Was it one of those ‘video games’ he kept hearing about? “Do I want to know what you were doing on that laptop.”

“Reading Wikipedia,” Jon said immediately, and somewhat defensively. Jon had discovered Wikipedia in 2001 before promptly funding it and throwing his weight behind its development. He had spent a solid five years convinced a computer was a kind of electronic screen that let you read digital Encyclopedia pages, like in Star Trek. He’d seen Star Trek. Georgie made him. “Did you know that -”

“Yes, yes, have fun. Haven’t you read that entire site already?”

“Not even,” Jon said defensively. “I can’t just sit and read through entire Encyclopedias anymore, Jonah. We know more things now.”

“What a way to describe the last two hundred years,” Jonah said, not even looking away from his computer. “We know more things. Never change, Jon.”

“You’re the one who never changes,” Jon grumbled. But it was a weak comeback, and considering his brand new delightfully short stature somewhat untrue, so Jon breezed out of Jonah’s office with full knowledge that he’d think of a better comeback halfway down the steps to the Archives.

In fact, it wasn’t until he was at the door, and by then he felt stupid for losing a point against Jonah anyway. He easily opened the door, stepping inside and quickly bee-lining for Sasha’s office. Her burgeoning powers were wonderfully flowing in the shape of access to and understanding of technology. He had never seen such gratuitous breeches of privacy as she casually committed. Every day Jon was validated in his decision to save her from the Stranger. A balance, an equal yet opposite Archivist from Jon, would be invaluable. Not that Jonah and Jon weren’t their own yin and yang, but Jonah’s powers were paltry and out-of-date. Mind reading and spying through iconography was so 1960. They needed fresh blood. 

Sasha had been a wonderful choice, and Jon didn’t regret choosing her to act as saviour. Most of the time. Some of the time she -

“She’s not in.”

Jon’s fist halted in front of the door, about to sharply rap on her office door. He turned around to actually look through the bullpen, only to see that Timothy was sitting in his chair chewing a sandwich. Somehow angrily. Definitely suspiciously. 

“Are you sure?” Jon asked dubiously. “Because you’ve lied about this before.”

“Because you should stop coming down here and bothering her.” Timothy balled the saran wrap in his hand and dunked it in the trash can, somehow undoubtedly giving the impression that he wished it was Jon’s head. “Just bugger off.”

Someone was in a snit. Normally Timothy wasn’t this hostile. Jon had thought that learning his name might make him less mean, but it did little to help. But when Jon looked around he didn’t see Martin, and a quick check assured him that both Sasha and Martin were having lunch at their favorite deli and engaging in that plotting hobby they both enjoyed. Timothy had elected to stay behind, stewing in his own angry and paranoid juices. 

He would have to do this with Martin out of the Archives...and he really wanted to take care of this now so Martin would get it before the weekend...and it wasn’t as if Jon was scared of this boy he was one hundred and seventy years older than…

“Uh,” Jon said intelligently, “can you help me with...something…”

Timothy’s face twisted in a novel combination of surprise and disgust. “What,” he sneered, “your evil fear god or whatever can’t figure it out for you?”

“I don’t need others to think for me,” Jon said stiffly. It was something he’d had to say far too many times. “The Witness is less helpful with...troubleshooting...look, do you know how to work a computer?”

Timothy stared at him blankly. “Like, at all?”

“I’m trying to buy Martin this toy he desires,” Jon said desperately. Fuck it all, he walked over and sat down in the chair next to Tim’s desk. He pulled a little bit closer, placing his laptop on Tim’s desk, and ignored the way the other man leaned away. “But whenever I try I keep on seeing alerts about hot singles. I’m not interested in young women, I just need to buy a ‘Portal Gun’. Do you know what a Portal Gun is?”

Timothy continued staring at him, eyebrows raised. Clearly involuntarily, so quick that he may not even have noticed, one corner of his lips was ticking upwards into a smile. 

“How many credit card scams have you fallen for?”

“Absolutely none,” Jon said, very quickly. He pulled out his credit card, placing it on the table. He knew a credit card was involved, although he didn’t know how. “What do I do? Do I swipe it? Is there a port?” He picked up the laptop and squinted at its sides, looking for a port. “I wanted to ask Sasha for help, since she’s the expert in hacking, but surely you know the basics?”

“I mean...I can’t, like, code, but yeah, I can work Amazon.” Timothy carefully opened the laptop, watching the display light up. He effortlessly navigated to an icon on the screen, clicking it open. 

“That’s not right,” Jon said urgently. “You’re supposed to press the E.”

“I do not want to know how many toolbars you have,” Timothy said bluntly. “We’re using Chrome. That’s another way to look at the Internet.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I got a grandmother, we can do this.”

Jon perked up. “So you’ll help?”

Went unsaid: even though you hate me?

“Whatever,” Timothy grumbled. Jon decided not to press his luck. 

Jon decided that he liked the Chrome better than the Internet Explorer, because it was simpler and Google was on the first page. Tim rapidly typed on ‘Amazon.com’ into the search bar and easily scrolled through the very busy and picture filled page that immediately popped up. Why was everything so fast? Maybe this was why the young people had no attention span: these pages just came up immediately. No flipping for indices for finding anything in phone books. 

“Right. What was it, a Portal Gun? Like from the game?”

“A board game?”

“Video game.”

“Like on a VHS…?”

“Right.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, Sasha said that you’re one of the most famous sociologists and anthropologists in British history.”

“I am extremely intelligent, Timothy, and I won’t abide any insinuation otherwise,” Jon said curtly. “I cannot be expected to keep constant track every time there’s another - iPhone or whatever. You have teenagers in your family, correct? Do you always know what they’re talking about? That’s, what, a twenty year age gap? Multiply that by ten.”

That shut him up. Timothy sighed again, much more aggressively, but he clicked the white bar and typed in ‘portal gun’ anyway. “Right. Not fucking apologizing, but right. I still don’t fucking know what ‘Twitch’ is.”

“It’s a brief spasmodic contraction of the muscle fibers,” Jon said helpfully. “Fascinatingly, this phenomenon was first observed in frog’s legs before I was even born in 1780, by Luigi Galvani. Erudite man, by the way, but he couldn’t hold his liquor. It was the birth of the study of bioelectricity, although the exact mechanism of muscle contraction eluded scientists for years.”

“Never mind.” Timothy sighed again, the perfect mix of aggravated and long-suffering. It seemed to be the man’s two favorite emotions. “My grandmother has a PhD and she still can’t figure out her cell, either. We had to get her a Jitterbug.”

Amazon, as Timothy explained, was a kind of shopping mall, except you could pick out what you wanted by its picture and have the shopping mall pack it up and send it to you. Jon didn’t quite understand why people preferred this to just going to a shop yourself, seeing as you could get it immediately instead of with a three or four day turnaround, but Tim explained that Amazon was cheaper, had a wider selection, and didn’t make you get off the couch.

“Oh,” Jon said, finally getting it, “this follows the economic model of large scale businesses underpricing their products to undercut smaller businesses in the area, driving them out of business until they hold monopoly over the market and can raise their prices without worrying about staying competitive.”

Timothy stared at him. 

“I mean,” he said, “I guess?”

“This explains why my Alexa project was successful so quickly,” Jon mused. “With a lack of competition or alternatives, consumers are more likely to accept the dramatic invasions of privacy as normal. Normalizing intrusions into privacy took ages, but my early efforts paid off very well. The Ring doorbell was even better, along with the line of security and home protection systems. We’re now working on live streamed 24/7 surveillance to social media platforms.”

Timothy stared at him further. 

Finally, he said, “Alexa was...you?”

“Of course,” Jon said, baffled. Who else would it be? “I gave Jeff the idea and convinced him it would be profitable. I didn’t understand the whole mechanics of it, but once I gave Jeff a vision from the Witness he was eager to implement the divinely inspired spyware.”

Timothy continued to stare. 

“The evil fear god controls Jeff Bezos.”

“He thinks I’m a prophet, actually,” Jon said helpfully. “I let him become Cardinal of the imaginary cult in exchange for funding some of my more esoteric programs. Had him sacrifice a goat and everything, it was great.” At Timothy’s alarmed look, Jon was quick to elaborate, “It was the most evil goat you’ve met in your life. Morally odious.”

“...for my sanity I’m going to pretend that you said none of that.”

In retrospect, although Timothy had worked at the Institute for a few years, it did take quite a bit of time to acclimate to the fact that the Avatars permanently shaped the shape of human existence in order to better feed their gods. Jon knew better than anyone: when humanity made gods, and gods made man, and man made gods...the feedback loop could self-perpetuate for years. Eternity, if needed. 

But they had no luck on ‘Amazon’. With Jon’s eidetic memory he was able to easily pick out the one that looked most similar to the one that Martin had showed him, but all of the little toy guns were for someone named ‘Rick’. Then Timothy took twenty laborious minutes explaining the entire plot of ‘Rick & Morty’ to him, which Jon patiently sat through. 

“I think young people today deeply enjoy explaining media,” Jon said, once Timothy finished telling him the funny jokes. “I’m very interested in your interests, Timothy.”

“You are so fucking condescending. And please call me Tim, you’re sounding even more like my grandmother.” When Jon brightened, Tim - Tim! - quickly said, “This does not mean we are friends.”

Granted, Jon had never once in his life gave a shit about making friends, but he felt as if he should be making more of an effort with Tim. He was a sort of supernatural brother in law, wasn’t he? Although Sasha perhaps Sasha was more of a favored niece. At least, he would be, if today’s generation found some morality and stopped living in sin. 

Good lord. Now he was sounding like Jonah. Georgie used to joke that he was born in the wrong generation - he should have been born a 17th century Puritan instead. Jon found it a very funny joke. Jonah did not. 

“Are there any other shopping websites?” Jon asked finally, after Amazon failed them. He’d have to call up Jeff later and complain. “Or is this the only one?”

Tim sighed. “Let’s check Google.”

Quickly and efficiently, yet with many lightning fast detours, Tim found another site called ‘eBay’ - pronounced ‘e-Bay’, not ‘ehbay’ - that listed off exactly what they needed. They weren’t under the toy section, instead listed as something called ‘cosplay’, but Tim seemed highly resistant to explaining that one, so he dropped it. 

They picked a likely looking white toy gun that looked the most similar to the one that Martin had liked and Tim talked Jon through punching in the numbers on his card into the website and sorting through the billing and shipping information. Tim helpfully took down the numbers on his card to file later. 

“And...done!” Tim said, pressing a button and leaning back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was ten times as complicated as I thought it would be,” Jon assured him, “but also much more fun. What else can you buy online?”

“Oh, god. What can’t you buy.”

Jon brightened. “Can you buy books?”

“Old Gertrude used to buy Leitners on eBay,” Tim said dully, “so yeah, sure, why not.”

Jon stared at his computer. He carefully navigated the mouse to the big red x and clicked out of the internet browser. “That’s enough of eBay, then, I think.”

Guess he would have to stick to buying Leitners in person. It was no good buying fucked up books from sketchy sources. Always stick to people you trusted, or at least trusted to be themselves. Mikaele was Jon’s favorite supplier since the kid Leitner disappeared, and they had a pleasant working relationship. Mikaele shared his grandfather’s stories about the history and culture of the Maori, and Jon told him which of his haunted artifacts would be the most helpful in the imminent apocalypse. 

“Well,” Tim said finally, gently pushing Jon’s laptop away, “that was...something, great bonding session with my local supervillain, please run back to Elias and bother him instead.”

“You were very helpful, Mr. Stoker,” Jon said, as professionally yet paternally as possible. Tim was six years older than his body, so he’s not sure how it came off, but the touch of grey at his temples helped with the dignified air. “And as soon as you start acting like a man and propose to my Archivist, you’ll make an excellent brother in law -”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Jon spun around in his chair to see Sasha and Martin standing at the door, holding doggy bags and looking somewhat flummoxed. Probably confused at the sight of him and Tim having a civil conversation, which admittedly had never happened before. Possibly also confused at how completely mortified Tim looked. 

“Who said anything about proposing?” Sasha asked incredulously. “Tim, are you -”

“No! No, god no!” Tim stood up quickly, holding his hands out as if he was placating a raging bull. “Nobody’s been saying anything - I would never do that to you -”

“Oh,” Sasha said frostily, crossing her arms and letting the bags swing, “would you.”

That was a domestic Jon should stay out of, even though he definitely caused it. He and Martin sidled away in tandem, huddling near the back of the Archives as Tim frantically pled for his life. 

Sneakily, Jon glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye. He looked happy. Happy, and just as stressed as he always looked - Jon had never known Martin when he wasn’t constantly stressed out, and he was more than aware that it was his fault. 

He looked good, too. Really nice, broad jawline that gave his face a friendly round shape. Just friendly and round in general, it was really handsome. His hair was as nicely short and ruffles as ever. The big glasses were super stylish, and really framed his face well. Really big, broad hands. Jon, who had always been so poky and tall and thin and gaunt, like some kind of haunted scarecrow that lurked through the corners of time, was envious. He wanted some of that softness and gentleness. Really, he wanted some of Martin’s -

“So what were you and Tim doing?” Martin asked. “I didn’t know you knew he existed.”

“You told me his name,” Jon said anxiously. “I don’t forget the things you tell me, you know.”

Martin smiled shyly and him, and Jon found himself smiling back. “It’s pretty good for my ego to hear that I have something to teach the immortal genius.”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, as Sasha yelled in the background, “I’ve been learning a lot lately.”

“Really?” Martin teased. “Anything interesting?”

“Oh,” Jon said, watching the yellow fluorescent light cast Martin’s dim smile in soft relief, “I can think of a few things.”

[jenomark]

Part 1

➔Pairing: Camboy!Jeno x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut  ➔Warnings: Masturbation (M) ➔Word count: 4,446

➔Summary: You’ve been out of the dating game for awhile, but your best friend thinks a push in the right direction is all you need. She sets you up for the cam boy experience, complete with the cute boy and a discovery. 

>>Part 2<<

“You’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely.”

  She was always in your business. She had been married for years, so what did she know about loneliness? You looked at the sparkling diamond ring on her finger before you paid attention to her accusatory expression. When you were teens, she always talked to you like an insufferable know-it-all, the girl who was never fully living unless she had one foot in the lives of everyone around her. When it came to your life, she always made you feel like she was stepping in a pile of dog shit.

“I’m. not. lonely.” you reiterated, making sure every word was felt.

 “Then, what is this?” she asked.

  The plants on your windowsill sat in her shadow. She gestured to the new ones you had bought, that diamond ring stealing all the sunlight. It’s true that in your single life, you had found yourself buying more and more plants to decorate your space, plants which gave you something to care for, and something to talk to when you were feeling…...

“ I’m not lonely,” you said. “I like plants, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

 She sighed. “You’re filling a void.”

“I’m happy.”

“You’re full of shit.”

  You could feel yourself growing hotter from her interrogation. “Since when is buying plants a sin?” you asked. 

  She moved away from the plants and looked at your open bedroom door. At the same time, both of you ran towards it, your bodies getting stuck in the doorway. You screamed like a warrior ready to protect her space.

“Stop,” you yelled. “Leave me alone!” 

  You were holding onto her, your hands pulling her jacket back. You did everything short of using your fingernails to scratch her skin. She was stronger than you, and she played even dirtier. She pulled your hair to make you let go of her, breaking through the doorway first and bolting for the drawer beside your bed. With one swift motion, she swung it open to reveal multiple sex toys. 

“And what about these?” she asked. 

  You kicked the drawer shut when you reached it and sat on the edge of the table so she couldn’t open it again. Standing with arms folded, she looked down at you. You felt like a child being scolded by an adult, their assessment of your pathetic-ness making you shrink back inside of yourself.

“I don’t use them. I didn’t get the chance to,” you said. “Stop bullying me.”

“I’m not bullying you,” she said. “But you need to look at things from my side. Your last relationship was awful. He beat you down until you were nothing. “

“I know,” you said, sourly, “I lived it.”

 Your ex was someone you were trying to forget. It had been almost a year since you broke up, and yet, he still had you in his clutches. Like a ghost, he moved through your life, making sure you never forgot his presence. 

“You deserve happiness,” she said. “Which is why I think you should go on a date. I know I pester you all the time but-”

“-I don’t want to date,” you said. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

  She sat on the edge of your bed. She looked ashamed to be pushing you, her facial expression momentarily apologetic, and her hands playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“I know you don’t talk about him,” she said. “And as your best friend, I have accepted that. I only want what is best for you. You sit here every day, and I know you’re only saying you’re okay because it’s easier than being honest.  I just want you to be happy.”

 You thought about telling her again that you were happy, but you knew you didn’t feel it inside. After breaking up, you vowed to take a break from men. For a while, it worked out well. You worked on your self-esteem, worked on building yourself back up from the bottom. You bought the sex toys to get back into the swing of things but never used them because you couldn’t stand the thought of facing your body alone. The solitude, in a way, was good for your mental health. But as someone who found themselves coupled more than not, you could admit you missed having someone there. Buying plants did fill the void. You didn’t have to face any of your fears navigating the dating world, and it made you feel safe.

“I know,” you said. “I’m trying.”

 You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating her words. Deep down, your best friend cared for you a lot. She reached over and placed a hand on your knee.

“I know it’s not easy.”

“ I don’t think I’m ready to date just yet.”

“What about sex?” she asked. “No strings attached passionate sex, the kind of sex that makes you blush.”

 Truthfully, you hadn’t thought seriously about intimacy with another person. You thought about the treasure trove beneath your ass. Occasionally, you took them out to feel them against your hand but put them back in the drawer when you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. You missed the feeling of having a human mouth on you, of looking into someone's eyes and knowing all they wanted most in the world was to make you feel good.

“No strings attached?” you asked. “Do people actually do that?”

She nodded. “All the time. I was talking last week with a work friend about these men who do video sex for money.”

“Like porn?”

“Not quite,” she said. “Most do solo work. Masturbation. Ordinary things like working out in their underwear. Men and women watch them, paying by the minute.”

“I am not paying for sex.” you said, shaking your head.

“It doesn't-” she sighed. “It doesn’t have to be sex. You can watch them. It’s a start, you know? Watch someone on the internet who is in touch with their sexuality and..I don’t know..get inspired.”

“No,” you said. “I’m not doing that. I understand you’re just trying to help, but I don’t think that’s what I want to be doing with my extra time.”

“More plants, then?” she asked, smiling briskly.

“Guess so.”

  She got up from your bed and walked out of your bedroom. You followed behind her like a dog at her feet, your eyes hoping for a treat from her hand. You wanted her to fix you, to give you the magic cure, even though you didn’t ask for it or believe in it.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

  She sat down at your desktop computer. Your work assignments were on top of it, so she pushed them out of the way to take hold of your computer mouse. She looked comfortable in your place, her eyes scanning your browser. You watched her type a few words into the search bar and pull up a website. Inviting herself, she opened your desk drawer and took out your wallet, opening up to your credit card and plugging in the information. You wanted to reach out and stop her, but you were too intrigued. 

“You’re being surprisingly chill about this.” she said.

“I don’t want to fight,” you murmured. “I know you’ll win.”

  She pressed ENTER. After searching a few minutes, a video of an empty bedroom came up. The bedroom was minimal, with a tall green plant in the left corner and a bed with white blankets and pillows to the right.

“This is what I mean,” she said. “Look, it’s a cam boy, or rather, a cam man. You see, on the side of the screen is a chat room. You and others can chat together, and you can chat to him.”

“To whom?” you asked. “There is no one there.”

  On cue, a man came into the camera view. He laughed softly, bending over the camera to adjust something you couldn’t see. He leaned down to look into the camera and smile before sitting in his own computer chair.

“Oh, he’s handsome.” she said.

 She was right. He had the prettiest smile you had ever seen. You scaled back as if he could see you. You didn’t like how he looked right into the camera, his eyes peering through your soul. Of course, he was paid to do so, and it meant nothing.

“How much am I paying for this?” you asked her.

“Don’t worry about it, “ she said. “Just watch and enjoy.” 

“This feels dirty.” you said, but you pulled up a chair next to her.

 The man smiled again, reading someone’s text in the chat. “Is everyone well today?” he asked.

  Both of you looked where the chat was. The room was full of you and a few other people, most of them women with various screen names.  You watched him type, the “Jen_Yes” screen name highlighted in blue. You looked to where your chat bar remained empty, the little “Plantful00” highlighted in the color red. 

“You couldn’t come up with a better name?” you asked her. 

She shrugged. “It’s cute. It’s very you.”

“For those who don’t know,” he said, his voice making you jump. ��My name is Jeno. I see a new person here. Welcome. I hope you like what you see.”

 Jeno waved cutely to the camera. You started to say something about how he smiled a lot but Jeno leaning back in his chair and slowly cracking his neck made you stop in your tracks. You were so aware of him and his body, the delicate bones on his neck and how soft his skin looked in HD.

“He can’t video chat with us?” you asked. “Can he? I don’t want him to see me.”

  She leaned forward in her chair and started typing. Before you could stop her, she sent it.

Plantful00: Sexy!

  Horrified, you covered your face. Jeno read what she had written, his face wreathed in smiles. Reading that he had started typing in the chat room made you want to vomit. You didn’t see the point of him typing if he could just say it out loud to the camera, but it also made you feel less exposed. 

Jen_Yes: Thank you.

Jen_Yes: You’re new. I have a rule that anyone new gets to choose what they want from me. No extra charge. Anything you want.

“What does that mean?” you asked. “Anything I want? Like what?”

“I don’t know, “ she said. “My work friend mentioned that some of these people do sexual favors over cam. Should we ask?”

“No!” you shouted as she reached for the keyboard. “Don’t. We should log out. I have seen enough.”

  Both of you stared at the screen but made no move to log out. Jeno was focused on your reply his eyes unblinking. A bunch of other people were throwing out suggestions, some of them egging you on to choose something good. When Jeno realized you wouldn’t reply, he looked into the camera and bit his lip.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to choose right away. You can take a rain check.”

 You made eye contact with his warm brown eyes. Your mind was racing, your body reacting to how sexy he was. You felt like he was looking only at you, like he knew exactly where and who you were. Without thinking about it, you leaned down and pulled the plug to your computer, erasing Jeno from your screen.

  After your best friend left, you sat with your legs folded on your couch, your eyes burning holes into your desktop. You had done nothing but think of Jeno since you dramatically turned the computer off, your friend looking at you like you were a lost case. 

“It wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun.” she said before she left.

 Your idea of fun was sitting watching dramas and perusing the internet in search of cheesy quizzes. None of those things occupied your mind quite like the boy behind the camera, his mannerisms very down-to-earth. You just sat and stared, your body willing you to get up and finish what you had started. 

“No.” you said, getting up and going in a different direction. 

  You went into your bathroom, deciding that you would get ready for bed. You washed your face and brushed your teeth, taking extra care to avoid your reflection. On your way to the bedroom, you started removing your clothes and getting into your pajamas. You crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. After turning off your lamp, you could see the orange light from the laptop blinking furiously. You rolled over so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore, closing your eyes tightly and hoping that your mind would stop thinking about him.

“Fuck.” you said. 

 You practically threw yourself out of bed and swiped your laptop off the table. You turned on your lamp and sat on the bed, opening up the machine and looking down at the search bar. You found the site from memory and plugged in your username and the horrible password she set for you: inneedofdick00

“Fuck,” you said. “He’s on. Fuck. Fuck.”

  A little green dot next to Jeno’s name beckoned you forth. You could see that his cam room was empty except for you. His camera wasn’t on, but his chat was open. You looked down at the chat box far too long before losing your courage. 

Jen_Yes: You’re back.

  Another user entered the room, their username a collection of numbers. They didn’t type, but it said they were there watching and waiting.

Plantful00: My friend made this account without me knowing about. I’m sorry for wasting your time. 

Jen_Yes: That’s okay. We all have friends like that.

93489348398394: Can we see you?

  In a flash, Jeno’s webcam came on. He was wearing brown plaid pajamas and a pair of prescription glasses. His hair was messy and wet. He waved so innocently at the camera that you couldn’t imagine him doing sexual things for money. In your eyes, there was nothing wrong with anyone doing so, but Jeno wasn’t the type of guy you thought would do it.

“I guess everyone is sleeping,” he said. “Is something keeping you up?”

You typed “YOU!!!!” into the chat box and quickly erased it. The truth never came easily to you.

Plantful00: Nope, just trying to delete this site from my history. 

Jen_Yes: And leave without getting what you paid for?

93489348398394: If she doesn’t use it, can I? 

Jen_Yes: Baby, you know that isn’t the rule.

93489348398394: I like when you call me baby.

“Baby.” Jeno said, his voice going deeper.

93489348398394: I will never get tired of hearing you say it.

   Jeno got up from his chair and disappeared. You looked at his minimalist bedroom once again. On his bed was now an open book spread face down on the sheets. He had been reading before you entered the room, your curious ping! no doubt causing him to check you out. While he was away, you were messing with a few of the features to figure out how to get your credit card off the site. You weren’t made out of money and couldn’t afford to keep paying a man to chat with you by the minute.

“I’m paying three dollars a minute?” you said. “What the fuck? What a con man.”

“It pays the bills.” Jeno said into his microphone.

“Yeah, well, I have bills to pay, too.”

 You clicked another button before you realized that Jeno had heard you and that he had replied. You clicked back to the main screen to see a split screen cam of yourself and him, your kitty pajamas in full view. You screeched and moved the laptop away from you.

Jeno laughed. “I can still see you.”

 You got down on your bedroom floor and looked at him from the side. He was so amused by you. He put his hand on his chin and smiled.

“You’re very pretty.” he said. “Do you have a name?”

  You stayed silent for a minute until you realized he could probably hear you breathing. All you had to do was click out of the site and you’d never have to see him again. You could forget all about the embarrassment of the night and keep collecting plants and being blissfully ignorant that men existed at all.

“I’m not telling you my real name.” you said

93489348398394: Scared bitch

“Hey!” you said. “That’s not nice.”

“I agree,” Jeno said. “I think you’ve had enough for the night.” 

  With that, your third party member vanished from the room. Jeno quietly coaxed you to come back to cam since you were both alone. You got up from the floor and placed yourself in front of the laptop, slouching down a little.

“I get a lot of people coming through,” he said “A lot of regulars that don’t take too well to new people. “

“I can imagine.”

“Did your friend really make your account?” he asked, his tone slightly disbelieving.

  Jeno’s forthrightness caught you off guard. You took a deep breath and told him the full story, complete with the bad ex-boyfriend. You didn’t know why you had told him so much about your personal life, but it kept spilling out of your mouth the moment you opened it.

“Ouch,” he said. “He sounds like an asshole...and she sounds…”

“Invasive?”

“I was gonna say lucky,” he said. “She led you to me.”

“You have to say that,” you said. “I’m paying you.” 

“Mmmm,” he said. “True. I guess I should keep you on here for a little longer. My car insurance bill is coming up.”

 When he winked, you nearly buried your head into your pillow. The log out sign had never looked so enticing. A few people joined the chat but didn’t write in the chat box.

“Are you nervous knowing that people are watching us?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said and meant it. “It sort of feels like they don’t exist. Is that what it’s like for you?”

“No,” he said. “They exist to me. That’s the part I like most. They can tell me to do anything. The intimacy we share is exhilarating. The friendship, too.”

“Friendship?”

“Genuinely,” Jeno said. “We’re all friends here. Do you want to be my friend?”

  You looked at your own video, your eyes trying to see what he saw. You looked terrified, wary, and a little tired. When you looked at him, he was leaning so close into the camera that you could see into his pajama shirt. Seeing his skin made you feel like time was speeding up. His collarbone was really so pretty, and you could tell that underneath his pajamas, he was built nicely.

“Do I still get one thing?” you asked. “One wish.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anything you want from me.”

“Take your shirt off.”

Zone5: is she serious?

Cloverz: Nooooo!! Please have him masturbate!! He cums so much!!

5050: This is underwhelming

“Give her credit, ” Jeno said. “She’s never done this before.” 

  You read the first three responses before stopping. You tried to keep your face as passive as possible, but the chat turning on you made you feel terrified. You looked at the log out button and closed your eyes. When you opened them back up, Jeno was removing his shirt starting from the top button. Every time he released a button, he opened the shirt a little wider to reveal parts of his chest. When he got down to the last button, he stood up so that you could see his abs.

5050: I take that back. 

Cloverz: Jeno, how do you look so good all of the time? Give me a break!!

Zone5: o_o

 Jeno didn’t flex, didn’t touch his body. You thought someone who made a living showing themselves off on a camera would whore himself out a little more. He simply sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He leaned up and adjusted his camera so that you could see the top of his head, to his crotch area.

Jen_Yes: It’s late. I should be sleeping.

Cloverz: Sleep with me!?

Zone5: Can you let us watch you sleep like you did a few weeks ago? Worth every penny.

5050: Hey, Plantful00, do you like what you see?

  Jeno read the responses and made eye contact with the camera. Though he had to entertain a room full of people, it still felt like it was only you and him. You swallowed hard and began typing. 

“Please speak,” Jeno said. “I like the sound of your voice.” 

  You looked down at his body and looked back into your camera. You nodded frantically and said something that resembled a yes. Jeno licked his lips and went back to typing.

Jen_Yes: If our beautiful plantful00 says yes, how would you all like a little show?

5050: Jeno, I would gnaw my own arm off for a show

Zone5: Don’t tease us king.

Cloverz: Girl, I will fuck your shit up if you don’t say yes.

Plantful00:.....this is very new for me.

5050: get a grip!!!

Zone5: say yes..please...please you have no idea how much i need this right now

5050: Jeno can I say yes in her place

  You could see the money virtually slipping out of your wallet and into his. So far, it wasn’t worth it. You put your fingers on the keyboards and played with the Y, E, and S buttons.

Jen_Yes: Only if you are comfortable, plantful00. I know how it feels. You can leave at any time and end our relationship. This is only fun if you want it.

5050: this is fun no one is ever brave enough to get on cam with him

Zone5: I almost did once but im ugly

5050: lmao mood

Jen_Yes: I need an answer. I’m feeling tired.

Cloverz: babe..please

Plantful00: Yes.

“I want you to stay on the webcam for me, ” Jeno said, smiling. “Okay?”

  He rolled his computer chair across the room. You watched how his arm muscles tightened as they held onto the chair. In the light shining across his body, his abs were so well defined you wondered what it would be like to have your tongue run across them. 

“Okay.” you said.

 When Jeno came back into view, he stood up to adjust the webcam once more. When he sat back down, he rotated his shoulders back and placed his hand over his crotch. His pajama pants were so loose that you couldn’t make anything out. He rubbed himself and licked his lips, his eyes looking directly into his lens.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve come,” he said. “I might be a little backed up.”

 You leaned back a little on your bed when Jeno took his cock out of his pants. He didn’t seem shy about showing a bunch of strangers his body. It was like he was jerking off in a room by himself, his only goal to release his load as fast as possible. You knew people liked it that way. The more real it was, the sexier. For you, things were moving so fast you got whiplash.

“It's so hard,” he said. “This is a new experience for me, too. Watching you watching me makes this even hotter.”

 You didn’t know how to act on camera. You tried not to think about any of the strangers looking at your reaction, tried not to think about Jeno masturbating to a video of your face. You wanted to breathe heavily, to drool a little bit every time he stroked himself, but you didn’t want anyone to know that you liked what you saw. Instinctively, you palmed your hand against your pussy and started moving your fingers. It wasn’t enough pressure against your clit. You felt frustrated by not being able to orgasm. It was the first time you had genuinely felt horny since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend. Knowing that no one could see you made you feel dirty, but there was something so addictive about that feeling. You wondered if Jeno got the same feeling by being so open on camera. You wanted Jeno to press his pretty cock head against the lens so that you could see him up close. It had been too long since you’d seen a penis that you almost forgot what they looked like. 

Cloverz: She looks dead. Show him how appreciative you are.

5050: hahaha Jeno your so sexy!!

Zone5: This must be so hot for you having her watch you like that..you’re coming quicker than you normally do.

  Just like that, Jeno had reached for a tissue and held it in front of his cock. He moaned and clenched his jaw, leaning his head back a little bit in his chair. He ejaculated, missing the shot a little bit, his semen glistening against his fingertips. It was over not too long after it had begun, but it felt like it had lasted forever. You felt worn out, even though you didn’t come, and no one had touched you. You watched Jeno wipe his finger against his bare chest.

Cloverz: There is so much cum. I want to clean it off jeno

Zone5: get in line

5050: idk how she’s still sitting after this i would be dry humping everything in sight

Plantful00: ..is typing..

Plantful00:

5050: just say it

  You didn’t know what you should say. Jeno was hanging onto your every word, his eyes watching the chat box for your response. He was leaning forward so you couldn’t see his cock, but you could see his arm moving. He was stroking himself slowly. 

Plantful00: 

Jen_Yes: Tell me what else you want. I want more.

  You were getting ready to tell him what you wanted when the fire alarm to your apartment building went off. You covered your ears and looked at Jeno to see that he was also covering his ears. The confusion hit both of you at once. You thought he might have just heard your alarm on his end, but the sound was also clearly coming from where he lived, too. 

5050: Is that an echo? Why can I hear the fire alarm coming from both of you? what is going on?

Cloverz: what are the chances of both their fire alarms going off? at the same time? hello??

Zone5: Holy shit!! Do you two live in the same building??

  You read the chat and looked back at the video to see Jeno’s reaction. He had already cut the feed and removed himself from the chat room.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

FAM

F/M Pairing: Fem!Reader x Lee Minho (SKZ)

Word Count: 2.4K

Genre: Hybrid AU; Strangers to Lovers AU

Warnings: None!!

Summary: You weren’t entirely sure about adopting a hybrid, but your friends insisted that you have someone to keep you company in the giant apartment where you lived alone. But you never imagined how much you were missing out on, until you also fell in love...

A/N: I’m trying my hand at writing hybrid AUs, so please forgive me if it isn’t up to expectation! Tagging @skzwriternet​ as usual!!

The adoption center was located in a giant brick building at the center of the downtown district where traffic was always heavy, and swarms of people migrated together to walk down the crowded sidewalks as a means of occupying their time on the weekends.

But you were hardly the type to enjoy such things, and you and your friends often spent time in each other’s apartments as opposed to dealing with the claustrophobia of the 5:00 rush hour. But on this afternoon in particular, you carefully navigated the intersections and bustling extensions to find a parking spot in the freshly paved lot of the adoption center. Because you were finally going to meet the cat hybrid that you had recently adopted after a lot of pressure from your friends and several hours scrolling through the online website.

Eventually, after an interesting internal-debate, your eyes were drawn to a hybrid cat with calico-colored ears, and the bright green of his eyes had captured your heart in an instant. From there, you didn’t need any more intervention to call the shelter and arrange a time to meet them at the center to pick-up your new friend. Even though you didn’t know much about taking care of a hybrid, you had spent the past week reading anything that you could get your hands on.

You were feeling both confident and excited when you offered your name to the receptionist upon your arrival, and she offered to bring Minho out to you. “He’s been here for so long,” she explained. “His last owners brought him in before they moved.”

“They gave him up?” you asked, appalled at the idea.

However, the receptionist merely shrugged, and you had a feeling that this sort of thing happened all the time. “Well, let me get everything arranged for you,” the receptionist said, and you lingered around the lobby while you waited, flexing your fingers because you had already signed so much paperwork.

But it was all worth it when you saw him for the first time, looking at you with the same green eyes that had first captivated your attention. “Y/N,” the receptionist said. “This is Minho.”

You shuffled in place, pasting on your best smile as you studied the hybrid. “Nice to meet you, Minho,” you said. “I hope we can get along well.”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, and you were a little caught off-guard by his nonchalant attitude, but the receptionist was positively beaming and you finished signing all the required forms before you brought Minho outside to your parked SUV.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” you said to make conversation on the drive home. So far, even with your introverted tendencies taken into consideration, you were having a hard time maintaining a conversation with him. “I redesigned the guest room for you.”

“That’s fine,” Minho said, and you took a deep breath because you weren’t expecting him to be so dismissive. But maybe he wasn’t the type who talked very much after just meting someone for the first time, and you could understand the value of your silence. Still, you only wished that it didn’t feel so awkward, returning to your apartment only to watch Minho barricade himself inside his room for the rest of the night.

From thenceforth, life with Minho...was the opposite of what you expected.

Instead of living together cohesively, and enjoying the company of someone else in the apartment, you found yourself seriously questioning whether or not you had made the right decision in adopting him. For starters, he never left his room, and you only ever saw him on rare occasions when he needed to use the bathroom, or to grab his dinner from the table. Which leads you directly to your next point: other than rushed greetings in passing, Minho never spoke to you.

And that was certainly not something that you were okay with, especially considering the fact that it felt like you were living with a total stranger. But when you brought it up to your friends and colleagues, they assured you that he just needed more time to adjust: “Maybe buy him something that Cat Hybrids really enjoy?”

So, you did, and the price of the rare treats was a major blow to your checking account, but you were desperate to get a reaction from him. And you were incredibly disappointed when he ignored the treats on the table, choosing instead to pretend like they didn’t even exist. However, that’s where you drew the line, deciding to confront Minho about your scarce interactions.

But when you stepped into his bedroom unannounced, you realized that he was absent, which meant that he was probably showering. In the meantime, while you waited for him to return, you cautiously studied the little knick-knacks and photos displayed all around the room on the shelves you had installed. Apparently, Minho was quite sentimental, and you paused on a picture of Minho smiling next to another cat hybrid who was similar in age and appearance...

“Please don’t touch that,” a guttural voice interrupted your thoughts, and you nearly had a heart attack as you returned the decorative picture frame and turned around to face Minho.

“I’m sorry,” you said, swallowing hard because you felt guilty about messing with his things. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

Minho nodded, choosing to walk around you to peruse the collection of papers stacked on top of his desk. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah...” you started, trailing off when you glanced back at the picture. “Who is that with you?”

Minho sighed at your question, and he pursed his lips like he was considering whether or not he wanted to respond. “He’s my little brother,” Minho eventually relented, and he returned to his files while you studied him with an enlightened understanding of the mercurial hybrid.

“You were separated,” you said, more as a statement rather than an actual question, but Minho still nodded. “What’s his name?”

“Jisung, and I’ve been looking for him,” he said. “But none of the registries match.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb turned on inside your head, and you connected the dots as you realized that the files on Minho’s desk were all documents recording the names of the Hybrids registered with the government - as mandated several years ago.

“I’ll help you find him,” you said, and you could tell that Minho was affected, shoulders rising even as he remained facing away from you. 

“Why would you do that?”

“Because nobody deserves what you’ve gone through,” you said. “I adopted you because I wanted a companion, but there’s more than enough room for another Hybrid.”

He was silent for a moment, and neither of you even took a chance on interrupting the tension until Minho spun around with evidence of fresh tears in his green eyes. “Thank you,” he said, but you didn’t need any gratitude for doing something that you knew was right.

“Let me help you,” you continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes, and you don’t have to avoid me anymore. I think it would be nice if we lived together as a family.”

Minho nodded, and he swiped the sleeve of his shirt beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry for ignoring you....I thought you might send me back to the shelter.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said. “I chose to take on this responsibility, and I’m not the type to just give-up if something proves to be more difficult than I thought.”

“But I made it hard...”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you interrupted him, chancing a few steps closer to place your hand on his shoulder - a soothing gesture. “Let’s find your little brother, okay?”

“Okay,” Minho agreed, and, for the first time since you met, he even managed some semblance of a smile.

Over the course of following two weeks, you and Minho continued to grow even closer as you relentlessly searched for his little brother - constantly reassuring him to never lose hope.

You could tell that he was growing disenchanted with your repeated failures, and you always did your best to improve his moods. You studied him closely, discovering little things that he liked - K-dramas with cheesy endings, chocolate-flavored sweet things, and the feeling of warm towels straight out of the dryer that you always left on his bed after cleaning them.

Each night, you made Minho’s favorite dishes, and the two of you sat together in the living room and ate dinner while watching TV - making jokes about the characters or plot on-screen. It turned out that Minho was very personable, but you had to be very patient to understand his intricate layers. You had to be compassionate and empathetic, and you slowly earned his trust and watched him open up to you. Especially when you would sit together as the kitchen table and search databases online while calling as many adoptions centers as you could find in search of his brother.

“Are you tried?” he asked one night as the two of you finished the last of your calls for the evening.

“Not really,” you replied, but you weren’t expecting him to reach out to skim his fingers over the skin beneath your eyes.

“You have dark circles,” Minho explained, but you found yourself whole-heatedly captivated by a pair of electric green eyes, drawing you closer until the soft brush of his lips across your own snatched you into a hypnosis of pleasure.

The feeling was warm - like something that had been missing, but then rediscovered to make all the pieces match around the edges, and there was nothing left but a comfortable glow sitting on your shoulders as you resisted the urge to hasten the exchange and deepen the tender presses of your lips together.

Unfortunately, the sound of your phone ringing broke the two of you apart, and you sat back with a start as you listened the delicate thud of your heart beating loudly inside your ears. “Hello?” you spoke into the receiver, and you were embarrassed by your breathless tone. 

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she,” you said, avoiding Minho’s gaze as you tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Perfect! My name is Elise, and I work the adoption center in upper Manhattan. Apparently, you called us earlier about a hybrid registered as Jisung? We just wanted to let you know that some files got mixed up, but we have him here for you safe and sound!”

“Really?” you replied, excitement coursing through your veins as you relayed the news to Minho whose eyes lit up like he was seeing the entire world unfold right in front of him. “Please keep him safe for the night. I’ll be in tomorrow to formally adopt him.”

It turned out that Jisung was the complete opposite of Minho: loud and outgoing, he walked inside your apartment while chattering away about the wallpaper color and other trivial details that made you laugh at his eagerness.

You were amused by his observations, watching as Minho gave him a tour of the apartment while keeping an arm around his shoulders. It was both a protective gesture and an affectionate one, and you were glad to see Minho and Jisung reunited after such a complicated spell of time apart. They deserved nothing more to be together - you could tell that they loved each other, and their easygoing chemistry revealed a complex history that exposed the depth of a brotherly relationship.

But you and Minho had discovered that the two brothers had been separated somewhere between their last transition between owners. It seemed that the couple who had adopted them didn’t care to ensure that the brothers stayed together, and they mishandled the entire process. The situation itself angered you to no end because you couldn’t imagine how cruel a person must be to disregard someone else’s thoughts and feelings simply because they weren’t entirely human.

“So, what do you think?” you asked Jisung when he finally started to unpack his minimal belongings in the guestroom that he would be sharing with Minho. “It might be a little small...”

“Are you kidding?” Jisung interrupted. “I love it!”

“Really?” you wondered, glancing at Minho when his hand found yours, weaving your fingers together with a squeeze.

“Better than the shelter,” Jisung said. “Seriously? I’m so incredibly grateful that you went out of your way to find me.”

“Of course,” you said. “I’m glad to have you here with us.”

“That has a nice ring to it,” Jisung said, and he sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh. 

“You should rest,” Minho suggested. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Jisung agreed, and he shot you another grateful smile. “Thank you again, Y/N! For everything.”

You nodded with a contented sigh, allowing Minho to drag you out of the bedroom to allow Jisung some time to himself. Meanwhile, you and Minho enjoyed one another’s company on the couch in the living room, playing a drama in the background while you sat in his lap, sharing heavy kisses and oxygen while scratching your fingernails behind his ears where you had discovered that he was sensitive. 

“This is okay, right?” Minho asked at one point, pulling back to look at you with wide eyes. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about this...thing.”

“Thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “You mean our relationship?”

“Is that what it is?” Minho questioned. “Like...a boyfriend type of thing.”

“If you want,” you agreed, and you were more than amused by his choice of words. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you too,” Minho agreed with a furious shake of his head, followed by his nose sniffing across your collarbone. “You smell good.”

“Thanks?”

“I -uh - it’s a hybrid thing,” Minho said, and you practically snorting from your uncontrollable laughter.

“Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I’m glad to have you and Jisung here with me, and I think we’ll make a pretty good team together.”

“That sounds nice,” Minho said. “Does that mean we can keep kissing?”

“Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” you grinned, and Minho returned your smile before kissing you senseless with his hands wrapped around your waist - fitting perfectly against your curves like they had always belonged there. 

It was everything beyond your expectation, and you knew that your life was about to become very interesting...

[andiandyandee]

Chicanery- Preface

All Janus needs is someone to pay for his groceries and keep a roof over his head. A family is not in the plans.

Or Alternatively: 

Logan And Patton have decided that this particular teenager is theirs, now.

 “It is unfair to presume that this meeting will be ‘the one’, Patton.” Logan sighed gently at his husband, placing a hand on his knee. “I know you are excited, but we do not want to overwhelm them. Besides, out of all of the children we have met with, this one is the least likely to fit the nonsensical parameters you seem to have set. They are nearly six years older than the original ‘max-age’ you had mentioned, and beyond that, the social workers have said the child is not actively looking for an adoptive family so much as they are looking for a place to age out of the system.” Patton pouted.

   “This feels like it’s going to be the one, Lo. Something about this one feels right.”  Logan had heard that tone before when they had been looking for a house, when they picked a shade of paint for the bedroom, and when they had found the location for Patton’s bakery. Though he hadn’t been convinced before, he suddenly also felt like this was going to be the child they adopted, even if only because Patton was too stubborn to pick anyone else.

    “Well, I suppose we should at the very least introduce ourselves to them before informing them that you’ve metaphorically called dibs,” Logan replied dryly. Patton just winked at him, sliding out of the car and dusting off his khakis.

    The child they were meeting was just shy of 16 and had been in the system for the majority of their life. Their name was Janus, and they were apparently incredibly intelligent, both academically and emotionally, which had been why the Social worker had sent their file in the first place. Patton and Logan stepped in tandem into the meeting room, catching the first glimpse at Janus, who was leaning concerningly far back in their chair, black boots crossed and on the table, reading what appeared to be a well worn and well-loved copy of Oscar Wilde’s works, the title story being “The Importance of Being Earnest”.

    “Hello, Mr. and Dr. Sanders,” Janus said without looking up from their book. They did lean back into a more normal sitting position, feet swinging back down to the floor and their hand reaching for a bookmark sitting next to them on the table. “My name is Janus. He/Him.” As he tucked the bookmark into the book, he glanced up at the two of them, a well-practiced smile on his lips. They had both seen his photo, so they weren’t surprised at the heterochromatic eyes scrutinizing them, but they both still straightened a bit at the gaze.

    “My name is Logan, He/Him. This is my Husband, Patton.”

    “I use He/ Him too! It’s nice to meet you, kiddo!”

    “The pleasure is mine, I assure you. Please, sit. The social workers will be in soon, they went to get coffee and almost certainly got distracted,” Janus let out an airy laugh and gestured at the chairs in front of him. “I’m surprised that we’re meeting, actually. I’ve been told you tend to fister much younger children, often for quite a while. I don’t think I really fit your standard parameters.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

    “You know about who we’ve fostered?”

    “Yes, of course. Similarly to how you research the children you take in, I research potential foster homes. I have been in the system for a long time, Mr. Sanders. I know many of the children you’ve fostered, and I know you’ve helped place many of them with the families that eventually adopted them. I likely know just as much about you as you know about me.” Logan nodded appreciatively.

    “It is intelligent to research the people’s homes you may be staying in. I am curious as to what you know, though. Neither Patton nor myself have much social media, so I don’t presume there’s much about us available online.”

    “All nine of Patton’s research papers are available to read online, as well as the social media page for his bakery. Which is a very interesting shift, by the way. You simply must tell me how you went from being a Neurologist to a baker.” Patton smiled and nodded, and Janus looked back to Logan. “You have two decades worth of students who have posted about you on social media, and your brother has an active Twitter and Instagram in which he posts photos of you and tweets about your conversations occasionally. I also believe he may have a Tumblr but the website’s so long dead I cannot for the life of me figure out how to navigate it.” Janus smiled again, and this time Logan could see just a bit of smugness behind it. “You, Logan, are a faux no-nonsense Chemistry teacher who is in fact, very prone to nonsense. Your students adore you and you have been the jumping-off point of nearly 40 current STEM majors’ passions in science in the last 3 years alone. You, Patton, love puns and people, are an excellent baker, double majored in Neurology and Psychology, have a doctorate in both, and run an incredibly successful bakery which has three locations, that from current estimation pulls almost as much, if not more, than what you probably were making as a doctor. Based on meeting you I can assume Logan, you are slightly more socially awkward and make up for it by trying to put yourself out there more, and Patton, you’re clearly an introvert who tries very hard to be an extrovert. You’re wonderful people I’m sure, and you’re clearly looking to adopt a child as your own, but I, unfortunately, am not that child. I am not looking to be adopted, I just need somewhere I can set up a desk and a bed and a pair of noise-canceling headphones until I can leave for college and live on my own. If you are interested in fostering someone who will be willing to help in your bakery so I can build up some income, or if you are looking for someone to help with raising or taking care of younger wards, including feeding and helping with homework, I believe I would be an excellent addition to your dynamic.” Logan was a little startled at how formal the teenager had become, and it suddenly felt a lot more like a job interview than it did anything else. Patton glanced over at Logan, a bit of amusement twinkling in his eye.

    “Well, kiddo, if you don’t want to be adopted that’s absolutely your choice, and we are of course willing to bring you into our home. We don’t currently have anyone else in the house, just us, but if you do want to work in the bakery we’re always looking for extra help in our main location! But you have a choice in this, you don’t just have to agree to live with us because you feel obligated. You won't hurt our feelings if it doesn’t feel like a good fit.” Janus gave Patton a coy smile.

    “It seems an excellent fit to me.”

-

Tag List! @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

[naturepointstheway]

Faith in a Futile Hope (Life is Strange 2; Parting Ways)

Post Parting Ways ending, takes place up to fifteen years after the events at the border. May or may not have a second part. Daniel attempts to look for his brother in Mexico, knowing all this time that the plan is doomed to fail from the beginning.

Also, constructive feedback well-appreciated; using this as testing grounds before AO3, just to see if people think it goes too fast or too slow or something’s missing. (Also, to see if anyone catches what Sean’s trying to do with his drawings he’s sending to Daniel.)

All I can think of to tag is @msmooseberry, but hmu if anyone else wants to be tagged in future LIS2 fics as well. :) 

When they take off Daniel’s ankle bracelet shortly after his 21st birthday, naturally, his first instinct is to take off to look for Sean in Mexico—and he would, but he resists.

He’s smart—he knows this is exactly what the government expects him to do—

So he doesn’t.

(The hell it’s hard not to just buy a plane ticket and go.)

Instead, he fantasises about the day he reunites again with his brother—he’d find him the moment the plane’s wheels hit tarmac, the moment he exits the terminal, and all would be well again.

(Sean still sends letters to Beaver Creek—all redirected now Daniel’s moved back to Seattle. Shit. What’s worse—Sean clearly refusing to imagine Daniel perished in the 2020 plague, or Daniel never being able to assure him for real?)

He has faith that Sean still loves him—even after Daniel leaving him alone at the border—but where is he? Faith and fantasy alone cannot guarantee him ever finding Sean in Mexico.

(He believes anyway. It’s what keeps his hope alive.)

He can wait another year.

He can.

Fuck, it aches to walk past travel agencies or see internet ads boasting cheap holiday plane tickets. He could walk in, or click an ad. Just one step or click and—

And he would cave in, he would book a plane to Mexico on the spot.

And so he doesn’t.

A year passes.

He’s now twenty-two—

And still he resists.

God. It’s torture.

He blocks all travel websites, avoids streets where there are travel agencies. It’s so bad, he’d sooner pass a church that looks eerily like the one in Havenpoint, than trust himself to walk past any travel shop.

Only one envelope from Sean this year—

A drawing—

Of Cassidy and Hannah with a herd of rather adorable-looking llama-like animals behind them.  Underneath, Sean had written: “Vicuñas! Warm and fuzzy and stupid adorable.”

It’s not cold comfort, but nor warm and fuzzy, knowing at least Sean isn’t entirely alone. That at least he can see the old gang from Humboldt County.

Lukewarm. Lukewarm comfort.

He lets the weeks and months plod on by, he buries himself deep into his first year of university.

A degree—he really doesn’t care much for his studies (Cs get degrees, as the saying goes), but at least it keeps him distracted enough from just flying off to Mexico.

And so another year passes.

 Twenty-three, he still doesn’t quite let himself go yet—

Maybe they’re still watching and waiting, expectant. But it’s been two years, hasn’t it? If he goes, he might not end up leading them straight to Sean.

But…what if he did?

It would be his fault, his doing.

They’d capture Sean, throw him behind bars, probably for life.

All thanks to Daniel.

So he resists, still. The agony is beyond unbearable.

But there’s no way he’s leading the government to Sean—he doesn’t trust them, ankle bracelet or no ankle bracelet.

At least Chris is there to distract him—he’s always there for him. Thank god.

Maybe he’ll go next year, but not this year. It’s too soon, too early.

He wakes up with a start on August 15th—Sean would be thirty now.

Thirty to Daniel’s twenty-three.

He’s never felt so old in his life. He’s twenty-three, and Sean has missed out on being there for all his milestones (so far anyway), for all his teen years.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of other people who still had their older brother around. If only he’d never taken Sean for granted.

“I took you for granted, and I’m sorry!” Those words from so many years ago still haunts him.

Unlike Sean, he can’t say sorry for doing the same too.

If only he knew where Sean was now.

If only.

Another couple of drawings and a little photo from Sean: the drawing of a glorious waterfall catches his eye, and he practically frames it on a wall, it’s that stunning. Underneath is written: “Angel Falls—the highest waterfall in the world.”

The other drawing is of a group of adorable little monkeys (“Capuchin monkeys” is written underneath) feeding and resting together. It’s actually quite sweet.

But it hurts all the same. At least Sean’s not wasting his life in a 9-to-5 job that has, amazingly, not yet stolen Daniel’s soul.

It hurts. And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a healthy dose of jealousy too.

Still, he waits, biding his time still, waiting for the right moment to go.

And so another year flows on by.

 Twenty-four, and he still doesn’t know where Sean is, though he knows he must be alive somewhere.

For Daniel receives a couple of photos and a drawing; the photos both have generic blue skies and tropical greenery in the background, nothing that would identify him as being in any particular country.

The drawing—coloured in this time—is of a couple of yellow flowers; one has a little bee perched on a petal. Underneath are two words: “Ipê-amarelo.”

So where is he?

Is he in Mexico?

How will Daniel find his older brother again?

What plan does he even have beyond “take a plane to Mexico”?

How is he going to do this?

These thoughts stress him so much he gets the old nightmares again.

Of cults, of Lisbeth, of Sean with glass in his eye, of borders and vigilantes who hunted them.

Of being trapped in burning churches, being forced to endure punishment for his “sins”, of being trapped in a prison cell and not knowing where he is.

Chris insists that he has to go to Mexico, if not to give him some peace of mind, to give him something in his search. Surely by now, the government has moved on.

Chris tells Daniel he hates to see him in so much internal torture over going to Mexico or not—and he must. It’s not healthy for him to keep forcing himself to stay here in the USA, always wondering, never searching.

Sean would not want him to torture himself like this—

The road is scary, and Daniel is too comfortable in his little corner of the USA to venture outside.

He’s not like Brody, nor his mother, nor his brother—he has little desire to brave it out and travel.

The traumatic journey from Seattle to the border of Mexico all those years ago hadn’t helped matters at all.

But if he stays here, he’ll forever wonder if Sean is in Mexico, or elsewhere.

And so maybe Chris really is right, he really should go to Mexico.

If but for the peace of mind, to let him go on the journey he has to go on. Even if he doesn’t find Sean, at least he’ll know he tried.

So he finally caves in. He books a plane for next year—2032.

 It is now 2032—he goes in August, books in a holiday for two weeks, the second-to-last day not-so-accidentally coinciding with Sean’s birthday.

Surely, two weeks is enough time to drive around Mexico (he can rent a car and just drive around the place), and somehow run into Sean.

Mexico isn’t a big place, at least not compared to the United States. But Daniel wonders if Sean is even still in Mexico; it’s been fifteen years, he could have gone anywhere.

Surely he’s wandered far from Puerto Lobos by now—maybe he’s just as likely in Canada as he is at the tip of South America, where only the wide cold ocean separated him from Antarctica.

But at least for now he has to believe, has to hope that Sean’s still somewhere in Mexico. It’s a big, big planet, and he doesn’t know if he has enough bravery to go through dozens of foreign countries just to look for his brother.

It was one thing for Sean to look for him in Nevada—at least that was a place, one next door to California—but at least he’d had an idea where Daniel was at the time.

Now? Daniel may as well throw three darts at the world map and pick the first three countries to try to look for him.

Mexico was as good as any place to start—it made sense anyway, seeing as Sean had always wanted to go there.

He could only hope that he wasn’t about to waste two weeks and a few grand only to find no sign of Sean.

 He lands at Aeropuerto Internacional de Ciudad Obregon, and it isn’t the most flattering of places, the little town where he ends up staying for a couple days, but at least he’s here in Mexico. The buildings are sparse and plain, and there is little greenery to see, but the sky is as blue here as it is in Arizona across the border. The houses make him think of matchboxes and lighters and little motels huddled away in some isolated corner of Nevada.

If only he could have taken his own car down here, but he couldn’t, so he’d had to rent one for a fixed price per day—at least his office job back in the States paid him enough to be able to afford this. He can’t exactly live in it like he’d seen people do, but it gives him something to work with regardless.

He can’t help the anxiety that overwhelms him as he navigates a language not his own, but a language that was his father’s and his brother’s. Part of him wants to smack his past teenaged self for refusing to ever learn Spanish, after his brother had tried to use him to cross the border. Instead, he had learned French, much to his grandparents’ delight—both had learned French as high-schoolers back in the day, and were more than happy to help him out, even if they were a little rusty.

Now French was next to useless here in Mexico, and Daniel doubts that Sean was in France or in some other nation like Canada where French was one of the main languages.

Ironically, Chris had been the one to learn Spanish—he would’ve been a very useful presence right now.

Nevertheless, at least Daniel is in Mexico, and Puerto Lobos is not far away, Daniel being able to make his way northward, toward the same border Sean had crossed so many years ago.

Maybe he’s in Puerto Lobos, he hopes, even if some part of him tries to reason that after fifteen years, he might not even be there anymore. Or…maybe he’s moved somewhere along the coast?

Mexico was a bigger place than he had realised: perhaps its small size compared to the US had somewhat tricked him. Its border alone touched four states from west to east: California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. It wasn’t exactly a small island nation stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But no way Daniel was going to give up—and so he made his way up the west coast, the Gulf of California appearing and disappearing from view depending on what road he ended up on. Maybe, just maybe, he would see Sean along the way.

He can’t help but stop for a good part of a day at Punta Chueca, walking barefoot in the warm sand, the sun hot on his shoulders (it was tank top weather), sitting down at midday to have lunch, and then—fuck it—might as well have a swim too. At least he’d brought along swimwear just in case. He ponders the island of Isla Tiburon, which looks so close he imagines he could just swim right across to it. And he wonders if Sean might be on this island too, but he wants to stay on the mainland, keep going up the west coast.

It’s sort of a blessing that the places he passes through are so small, and it shouldn’t be that hard a task to find Sean, if he was still here. And that was a big if.

At least he’s now less than a day’s trip away from Puerto Lobos.

 Puerto Lobos greets him with soaking sunshine, lulling bright blue ocean that melts into the cloudless sky, and a tan, sandy beach that seems to go on forever. It is a lot smaller than he expected it to be; somehow, Sean had made it sound like this big, wide world where he could just get lost and never be found again.

Instead, it’s a little village, perched on the coast of Mexico, forever gazing out at Baja California that appears nothing more than a hint of land like damp watercolour smudged across a blue canvas. There is one little hotel here, with just a few rooms and one staff member who does all the things, but Daniel doesn’t mind. At least he can stop here for a day or so, and drive up and down Puerto Lobos to look for Sean.

He doesn’t know why it disappoints him so deeply when he doesn’t find Sean at all—he’d even shown the photo to some people, and they’d all shrugged or shook their heads, not recognising the man with the black glass  eye. Did Sean even still have a black glass eye, or had he replaced it with another colour, or even something that more closely resembled his remaining eye?

It doesn’t take long before Puerto Lobos’ width and breadth is exhausted in his search, but Daniel doesn’t let himself give up—yet. He still has another week or so; nevertheless, he spends the self-same night just staring at a map of Mexico, drawing with bold marker how far he’s been now.

It isn’t that impressive. It’s barely even much of the west coast, and this fills him with a sense of something dropping into the pit of his stomach, and he lets his head rest on the map, closing his eyes, feeling he could just fall asleep here from sheer exhaustion and burn out.

I can’t possibly search all of Mexico in two weeks…how am I supposed to search the world?

He wishes that Sean had at least sent a hidden address to their mom’s P.O. Box, but then he might have forgotten it, or hadn’t wanted anything more to do with Karen. Daniel had asked Jacob through Sarah Lee again and again, but Sean had never sent him an address either.

Nobody, not even their mom, seemed to have an idea where Sean was—not even a cellphone number to call.

It really, really wasn’t helping at all—and he knows now that it would take nothing short of a miracle to find him; if he can’t find him in Puerto Lobos of all places, then where the hell could Daniel look for him?

He doesn’t go any farther north than Puerto Lobos—he doubts that Sean would’ve wanted to be anywhere near the border.

And so Daniel returns to Ciudad Obregon, and he has but a few precious days left to venture southward this time, but with less enthusiasm than before.

He’s not going to find Sean.

He’s never going to find him here—

He could be anywhere in Mexico or the world—if Mexico felt so vast and endless now, how would South America, much less North America and Canada, then feel to Daniel?

This planet is just…way too big.

The towns south of Ciudad Obregon remind him again of the ones he’d seen farther north, and agriculture dots the landscape everywhere he looks. Daniel is sure Sean would never live in many of the little villages he passes through, but he keeps his eyes out anyway—

And suddenly, it’s time to go home—

He hadn’t even covered the entire west coast of Mexico.

When the 15th August comes around, Daniel has given up the search, and instead chooses to spend his day around Playa Huatabampito.

He wishes he could enjoy the palm trees, the setting sun, the lapping waves, and soft, cooling sand as much as the beachgoers here.

But he cannot, because now it’s all over.

It’s over.

Two weeks.

He had failed to find Sean.

All that money he’d wasted on a childish hope, a fantasy only found in fairy tales and fiction.

Today was Sean’s 32nd, and Daniel had failed to be there to surprise him for his birthday.

What a stupid, foolish man he was, to have fallen for his own naïve hopes and dreams—

The dream he’d find Sean in Mexico was as real as any he ever experienced in sleep. He’d fallen for his own stupid naivety, so gullible to believe and fall for his own convictions.

Of course he wasn’t ever going to find his brother. Mexico was way smaller than the USA, but that didn’t mean he’d find Sean any easier. Fuck. He could be anywhere on the fucking planet.

Would Daniel have to search the literal ends of the world for even the tiniest hopes of ever finding Sean? How many years could that take?

Either way—he had failed.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d never tried.

He should give up—there was a reason reunions between long-lost relatives happened only in movies and children’s books. Besides, would they even recognise each other now? He’d forgotten Sean’s voice.

Daniel stares out at the watery sun sinking into the distant horizon, drowning in the ocean, helpless. The otherwise soothing rhythm of the lapping waves does nothing to console him. It only hurts, thinking how in another time, in another life, he could’ve been here—or hell, in Puerto Lobos—enjoying the warm Mexican summer with his brother, perhaps even sharing a beer and pizza together.

But no.

He was alone now.

He’ll never see Sean again. Ever.

Daniel fumbles around for the sketchpad and pen he’d been carrying around since he’d landed here in some stupid hope that just having them in his backpack will give him la suerte—the luck—he needs to find Sean.

Placing the sketchpad on his crossed legs, he opens it to a new blank page, settling back against the lone palm tree behind him. He clicks the pen, a stark image of a lone little wolf cub howling at a bright full moon burning in his mind’s eye. After a few false starts, he begins sketching, the ghost of a wolf form emerging on the page. The world around him collapses to the wolf, like it was the only thing in existence, but for the whoosh of lapping waves, the wind striking his bare arms, and the soft warm sand under him.

When he finishes the sketch, he taps his pen on the page, thinking of a title to go with it. After a few seconds it finally comes to him, writing three words under the wolf’s little paws:

“The Lone Wolf”.

He stays very still, staring at the lone wolf cub howling at a cold, uncaring full moon. A drop of water blots the wolf’s front paw. He tears out the page, closing and dumping the sketchbook on the sand next to him.

“I—I wish I knew where you are. But now I know. I’m never gonna find you.” Daniel swipes his hand over his eyes. “You could be anywhere—and—we wouldn’t recognise each other anyway, right? I don’t even remember your voice anymore, Sean. I’m not even sure how to feel about that.”

It’s weirder still to think that the last time Sean had heard his voice, he still had the high lilt unique to a child’s. Or that his face was forever ten years old in his memory.

Daniel had grown into a full adult man, and yet, in Sean’s memories, he’s forever frozen in time as the ten-year-old he’d left behind. Sean had never seen him grow up into teen-hood, never had the chance to tease him when his voice broke, nor joke that he’ll never be as tall as Sean, nor ever make fun of the scant “beard” he managed at best. He never even saw him dress up for his first prom, go on his first date, discover his sexuality, or even graduate. To his surprise, his high-school graduation had felt bittersweet—yes, his grandparents and even his mother had been there, but…it was still not right for Sean to be absent, to not be there to be proud of him, to see him graduate high school.

Whether prom or graduation, he’d have given anything to have had Sean around.

Now, Daniel had not only robbed himself of having his older brother around, he’d also robbed Sean of watching him grow up into the young man he is today.

God.

It’s—

It’s enough to make him want to scream at the unfairness, to shout “Why?!” at the deaf, mute fates, to make him want to sob until his throat is raw, until his tears dry up and leave him an exhausted, shaken mess.

And so he—

And so he curls up into a ball, pressing his lower back into the tree trunk, pulling his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his arms, only the silent shuddering of his shoulders betraying his state. He feels the paper flutter from between his fingers, but doesn’t care. Let it fly over the sand, roll into the waves, disintegrate in the foam—like he cared.

It didn’t matter anymore.

He’d never, ever see Sean again.

It’s not like he can repeat his teen years over again, so what was the point? He was twenty-five, what more could Sean miss, short of engagement and marriage and graduation from university?  

What even was the point if Sean wouldn’t even see him cross the stage for his undergraduate degree? If Sean would never see him marry the love of his life? If Sean would never see him promoted in some nebulous dream career?

They’d all be tainted with the knowledge he had robbed Sean of seeing him grow up, seeing him succeed in life—

All because of a second of impulse, a moment of panic, of not wanting to hurt anyone else—not even the policemen at the border who would have killed him and Sean without remorse.

And now he knew: he had no choice but to give up.

And now tomorrow…

Tomorrow, he will return to the USA, none the wiser about Sean’s whereabouts in Mexico, let alone the whole world.