#told them if they ever need someone to do art for something I’d be up for it

[camscendants]

Finally posting these

This concert was SO GOOD

[iris-qt]

𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚌

"Suddenly seeing you in a different light than before..."

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ᴘᴛ. 2 ᴛᴏ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀʙᴀʟʟ ᴍᴏᴏɴ | 1.8ᴋ

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ (ʏᴏᴜ). ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ: ᴛʀɪᴄᴋᴇʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇꜰᴛ, ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ…

God, she’s so perfect

Mattheo Riddle seemed transfixed, practically hypnotized, by the sight of your quill brushing against your lips. The soft plumes of the feather ghosting over them as you listened intently to the Defense Against the Arts professor.

That was his favorite quill.

Although you’d never believe it if he told you. You’d never believe it was him who planted that quill in your messenger bag.

Probably because he was the one who stole your bag in the first place. Perhaps it was sick and twisted, but there was something about your flushed, angry face, brows furrowed and fists balled together, while you yelled at him in front of the entire Slytherin quidditch team that turned him on. You always knew that if something went wrong in your life, it was most definitely the doing of the “hellish toad” named Mattheo Riddle.

But he couldn’t help it.

He had noticed you’d lost your quill and had to write with a muggle contraption called a pencil. 

Barbaric.

So he took matters into his own hands.

Your bag was just lying there next to you on the stone bench while you talked animatedly with your friends. It was practically beckoning to him.

“You know they have a word for that,” you’d tell him months later, looking up with a smirk, sipping your butterbeer in the quaint restaurant Mattheo had taken you to. He had finally convinced you to go on a date with him, and he wanted to make sure it was perfect.

So he rented the whole restaurant out for the night.

Just him, you, a server, and a 5 star chef in the dimly lit building.

He leans forward, candlelight dancing in his ebony eyes.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grin. 

“And what is it, my little dictionary?”

“Kleptomania,” you grin. “It’s where someone can’t resist the urge to steal stuff, even if they don’t need it.”

“Oh, well that’s not me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Mattheo grins at you, face flickering in the romantic candlelight as he reaches out to place his rough hand on your own.

“Because I don’t steal invaluable things.”

“I’d call my bag an invaluable steal.”

“Sure, but I stole your heart. And that’s definitely something I value,” he grins, proud of himself as you roll your eyes laughing.

“You’re cheesier than this alfredo pasta, Riddle.”

“Am I as tasty as it is too?” he leans over, a cheeky smirk donning his face. One that would’ve boiled your blood just a few short weeks ago, but ever since that night at the Yule Ball, Mattheo Riddle had weaseled his way into your “cold little heart” as he teasingly called it. 

It wasn’t easy.

Mattheo Riddle had a lot of sucking up to do before you finally took mercy on him and agreed to this date. The truth is, he had already won your heart from that night of the Yule Ball. It was just far too enjoyable for you to witness his groveling.

At first he had kept it pretty subtle.

You had arrived back to your dorm after a rough quidditch practice, face streaked with dirt and sweat, when you noticed a lump under your duvet. You pull it aside to reveal the new book in your favorite romance series with a little note and a bag of your favorite wizarding candy.

Your eyes widen as you unfold a little note, a small smile dawning on your face.

You already knew who it was from, but the messy, chicken-scratch handwriting just proved your suspicions. 

Riddle.

I snuck out to Hogsmeade with the boys last night. Found these and thought of you. 

-- Matty

You snort as you read that he signed the note with the atrocious nickname you had used to belittle and demean him.

“Aw, poor Matty forgot his homework.”

“Try to keep up, Matty!”

As time went by, Mattheo progressively grew more desperate. You didn’t seem very ecstatic to agree on that date that he so desperately wanted. What could he possibly do to win your favor? What could he offer you that would make you break? He’d gotten you your favorite book, favorite candy, favorite cassettes that he drew little sharpie hearts all over. He had gotten you concert tickets to your favorite band. A little picnic for you and your friends, for he knew how much you cherished them.

What more could he give?

Or…wait…

What more could he take?

That set off a week’s worth of shenanigans that Mattheo was having way too much fun putting together.

Project 1: Steal your favorite book.

And steal it he does, right as you go to use the bathroom. He timed it perfectly: you always go during History of Magic, not like you’d be missing anything important.

He leans over expertly, and in expertly he thinks he twists a muscle in his shoulder blade, but, nonetheless, he manages to pluck the worn down copy of your favorite book from your messenger bag.

When Mattheo’s in private, he thumbs through the book, subconsciously imagining you doing the same with your soft hands. Your messy ink annotations are slightly smudged against the aging paper, and as he reads them to himself, he can’t help but imagine them in your beautiful voice…

You’d been attempting to convince him to read this book, thinking the main male character reminded you of Mattheo. You wanted to see if he agreed.

And agree he did as he spent that entire evening reading the book enveloped in the story. Perhaps it wasn’t even the story that kept him hooked. Perhaps it was how he imagined your reaction to certain scenes. The scrunch of a nose. The furrow of an eyebrow. Perhaps it was how he couldn’t wait to see your face as he added some annotations of his own next to yours. Reacting to your reactions. Perhaps you’d finally agree to go out with him, once his scratchy handwriting weasels itself into your favorite work of literature.

Or perhaps you’d just be annoyed at his theft and vandalism.

But that was the worst case scenario, for when you went to your dorm room that night, your book was there, propped up against the door. And when you saw that familiar handwriting, you felt your heart melt as quickly as a wax candle…

“I hope you know you ruined my aesthetic annotations,” you roll your eyes spooning some tiramisu, your snarky words coming out muffled by the dessert, causing the snark to diminish as Mattheo bites back a fond smile.

“Oh please, I added the much needed chaos.”

“Mm I don’t think chaos is ever a need, Riddle.”

“Well you always tell me I’m chaotic, right?”

“Right?”

“And you need me, right?”

You roll your eyes as you see where he’s going.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” Mattheo gently dips his finger in the mascarpone cream and smears it onto your rosy nose with a cocky grin. “Your blush is proof enough.”

It took more than the annotated book to win your favor, however. You made Mattheo work for it, and he was making the most of every second. The thing is, Riddle loved to do things for you. His love language is acts of service after all. Taking time out of his busy schedule of planned pranks and mischief was only worth it for one person. You.

Growing up in a rich household, Mattheo Riddle had taken on many pretentious, cultured hobbies. One was his immense talent in ballroom dancing as you had the privilege to witness firsthand after the Yule Ball. Another is his weird proficiency in embroidery. Needlework. 

He’s aware it isn’t exactly the most flattering hobby, but he had overheard you talking about wanting to learn it to embroider those uncomfortable-looking muggle trousers of yours…jeans? Yes, jeans. 

No one knew about Riddle’s affinity for needlework and he intended to keep it that way.

But what better way to show you he’s real about you than revealing this talent of his?

So, his winning plan came together by accident when your scarf was blowing along the snowy pathway to Hogsmeade. It nearly flew into his face, which it might as well have, because when he noticed it was yours, he brought it to his face to inhale your addictive scent.

Was he creepy for that?

Probably.

Did he care?

Nope.

What’re the odds your lost scarf blows right into his welcoming arms rather than the various other Hogwarts students milling about?

To a delusional Mattheo Riddle, it was a sign from the universe.

Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention in Divination.

He doesn’t bother to return it to you when he runs across you by a cozy bookstore. Instead, he throws a snowball at you, hitting you square in the face, laughing at your face red from the cold and rage. 

Hey, he’s still Mattheo Riddle.

But he’s a very down bad Mattheo Riddle as he wordlessly wraps his own scarf around your neck, walking off before you could utter a syllable.

After the trip, he busts out his embroidery set, kept buried in a box of old cassettes under his bed. Taking your soft scarf in his hands, he embroiders a moon onto the hem of your scarf, a testimony to the dance you both had shared under the moon at the Yule Ball. 

He leaves the scarf folded on your usual seat in the library, just as you walk in. 

Nothing can compare to the look of pure joy and flustered giddiness that overcomes your complexion at the sight of the embroidery. 

“Guess we owe it all to that gust of wind that blew my scarf over to you,” you grin as you walk out of the restaurant into the chilly night air. Mattheo’s adoring gaze and strong hand are enough to keep you warm as the snowflakes begin to cover you both up.

“Oh, please, y/n. You liked me way before the embroidery.”

“No, Riddle, it was the constant theft and vandalism that made me fall for you,” you tease as you both begin the walk back to Hogwarts on this cold Saturday night.

“Hey, it's my way of showing my affection. Just like yours is rude insults,” he shoots back, nudging your shoulder gently.

“I guess we both need some help, don’t we?” you bite back a laugh squeezing his mittened hand with your own.

“Yeah…but first..” and Mattheo leans in to steal his final thing from you…

Your breath.

NO not in the killing way…

He takes your breath away as he leans in for a soft kiss, numb lips thawing as they meet.

It seems you both always have your magical moments under the mirrorball moon.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @jennapancake @ellabellabunny123 @yearninglustfully, @littlebookbengal @helendeath @girllblogging777

[badasgirl]

accidentally fell in love

bada lee x fem!reader

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

when you’re in love with your best friend who constantly goes on date after date, what do you do? what if that best friend also happens to be oblivious as can be?

genre: fluff, angst (my bad), suggestive, best friends to lovers

warnings: oblivious!bada x jealous!reader, bada calls reader her princess, some tension, suggestive with a makeout scene towards the end, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy! i am finally back after a while 🤭 rewriting this made me cry so it took a while and the finale made me really emotional (i still am emotional LMAO) so i ended up pushing this back. thank you for being patient! i hope you all enjoy!

word count: ~3.2k

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

you and bada lee have been best friends since one faithful day in middle school. it was a simple mistake really, you had forgotten a pencil for an exam and the teacher refused to give you one. you had to take the exam or else you could possibly fail the class. you had began to tear up and panic as the exam was about to begin and there was no pencil insight for you. luckily amidst your panic, the tall girl behind you tapped your shoulder and quickly snuck you a pencil to use. since that day, you vowed to be by her side and be her best friend forever.

and trust me, since that day you never left each other’s sides. you two were inseparable. you both were now in your final year of university and of course you shared an apartment together. bada majored in dance and you majored in art, specifically focusing in photography. naturally, a lot of the photos you took included bada, she was like your muse. if you ever needed to do a last minute project, she was always down to help. for bada, you too were like her muse for dance, but in a different way. whenever she had difficulties creating or finishing a choreography, she had to see you. she claimed that just by seeing you, you cleared her foggy mind and gave her so much inspiration. how could someone not fall for her? you did.

unfortunately for you, you were deeply in love with your best friend. in fact, she was your lesbian awakening in high school. you knew she liked anyone regardless of gender, however she never seemed to show interest in you at all. well, never directly.

recently, she was always going on dates with guys and coming back home complaining to you. today was one of those days. you were laying down on the couch in your pajama shorts and your (bada’s) t-shirt, watching something on your phone when bada entered the apartment with a loud sigh. she kicked off her shoes and threw her bag on the floor before taking her tall body and laying on top of you, basically smothering you.

“bada, what happened? also you’re crushing me” you said as you tried to push her off you slightly. the girl just snuggled into you more before loudly whining like a kicked puppy.

“princess, it was so terrible. he was sooo full of himself.” bada said tiredly. “he acted like he was doing me a favor by going on a date! i was the one doing him a favor if anything!” she complained passionately as she finally sat up a bit, just to give you enough room to sit up and hold the big human-sized puppy in your lap.

you patted her head softly as you said “bada, i have told you to stop going on every single date that someone asks you out on. especially this guy, seojun is a literal known asshole.”

the tall girl sighed knowing you were right. “i know, but i thought maybe it was just gossip you know? god, i wish these guys were like you y/n…so sweet and caring, never full of themselves. if they were like you, they’d be perfect. i’d immediately fall for them and make them mine.”

you blushed slightly but your heart broke at the same time. you slightly balled up your fists out of jealousy, but bada didn’t notice. you honestly hated hearing about your best friend’s dates. not only did they make you jealous, but bada always said if they were more like you she’d actually date them. “what does she even mean by that?” is something you’ve always wondered. if you’re so perfect for her, why won’t she date you?

you pushed your feelings aside as you smiled at bada and tapped her thigh signaling her to get up. “bada, you’ll find someone perfect for you, trust me. you just need to give it time and going on every date possible won’t help you.” you told her sincerely as you both got up from the couch.

bada nodded in agreement with you before pulling you in a hug. she rested her head atop yours before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “thank you y/n, you’re right. what would i do without you, my best friend.” she smiled at you before taking her bag from the floor and heading to her room to get ready for bed.

however, all you could do was just stand there in the middle of the living room. of course, you were friendzoned time and time again. you hated how bada could make you feel like you were only person she wanted or needed one second and then remind you of your place the next. you let a few tears fall down your face before quickly wiping them and going to your room to sulk over being stuck in the friendzone.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next day was definitely one of the shittiest days you’ve had in a while. to begin, you overslept and missed your first class because you were up all night thinking about bada and how much it hurt your heart to see her with shitty people and not you. then if that wasn’t enough, you spilled your energy drink all over your computer in the middle of your second class. fortunately for you, it wasn’t damaged. however, there was nothing to clean it with in the class and the closest bathroom had no paper towels to wipe it clean with. you were running out of time to make it to your last class, so you had to end up carrying a sticky computer in your bag halfway across campus so wouldn’t be late. then to top everything off, when you finally went to one of the dining halls after your last class, they ran out of the one meal you like there. you sat in defeat at one of the tables with arms on the table and your head resting on your arms.

bada currently had 20 minutes before her next practice started up, so she decided to head to the dining hall. she figured you’d also be there after a long day of classes, she knew your schedule like the back of her hand. bada spotted you at one of the tables with your head down, she immediately went over and patted your head softly.

your head lifted up slowly and your eyes met hers. “hey sleepyhead, why are you napping here?” bada asked grinning at you as she sat down next to you.

you sighed and fixed your hair. “i’m not napping, just drained” was all you could really say. you didn’t really feel like explaining the whole timeline of events that occurred. bada nodded her head in response before giggling to herself.

you looked at her with a confused face. “what’s so funny?” you asked her curiously.

“nothing really, it’s just i’m going on the blind date later after practice and i think the guy might be daehyun! you know the guy from your major.” bada explained while chuckling about thinking of going on a date with a fairly popular guy you know due to being in the same major and working together before.

this was your last straw. not only had you had a very terrible day, but now bada’s going on another date. you guess nothing you said last night mattered to her at all. you felt as if you don’t matter to her at all. you had began to accept being friendzoned, but now she’s completely ignoring what you tell her? what will happen when she starts actually dating someone, will she just ignore you all together?

tears brimmed your eyes as you quickly got up from the table and harshly grabbed your bag. you looked at her, your voice unsteady before saying “i don’t care, do what you want. have fun on your date bada, don’t bother complaining about it to me later because i’m not listening anymore.”

you walked off before bada could register what was even happening. she stood up once she finally realized what was going on and went to look for you, however you had walked far enough away for her to not see you anymore. she immediately pulled out her phone to text you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you made your way back to your shared apartment, crying your eyes out on the way home. “why are you so emotional? were you too hard on bada?” were the things you thought of on your walk back home. once you reached the complex, you quickly made it to your unit and went inside. all you could manage to do was take your shoes off before slowly walking over to your room, throwing your bag to the side, and flopping face first onto your bed. you curled up in a ball and cried your eyes out again. every insecurity you had about your friendship with bada came to the surface. even if she didn’t love you romantically, how could she just ignore your advice time after time if you’re her supposed best friend. how could she not realize the right choice has been in-front of her the whole time. she wanted every quality about you in the person she dated, so why not just date you? did she find you that repulsive?

you were wallowing in your thoughts for a while before you decided to check your phone. you felt it buzz as you walked home, but you were too focused on just making it home to check. your notifications revealed 4 missed calls and 10 texts in a row, all from bada. they all happened about 20 minutes ago.

my sea 🌊

——————————

y/n

are you okay???

did i upset you??

where did you go?

are you going home?

y/n princess please tell me you’re home safely, i’m worried.

i hope you’re alright, please don’t cry anymore.

i’m sorry i don’t know what i did, but that doesn’t matter i just need you to be okay

princess?

please let me know when you see this, let me know you’re safe.

you felt like crying even more after reading bada’s texts. maybe you were the one who fucked up. you didn’t want the girl to panic too much and actually call the police, so you mustered up all your energy to text her back.

you

———————

i’m home, i’m fine.

you shut off your phone and threw it to the side as you slowly let more tears fall and sleep over take you. the day was so draining, your body couldn’t help but want to give into sleeping.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the moment bada received your text, she immediately grabbed her stuff and ran out of practice. she ran over to the nearest convenience store to grab a bunch of all of your favorite snacks and drink: fruit jellies, potato chips, and strawberry milk. she had no idea as to why you suddenly became so upset, but the only thing on her mind was to make you feel better. once she purchased everything, bada rushed to your shared apartment quickly.

after you had barely fallen asleep for maybe 45 minutes, you heard a knock at your bedroom door and someone softly calling your name. you assumed it must be bada. you sighed deeply, rubbing your eyes awake. you honestly didn’t know how to react or what to do at this point.

“princess? you awake?” bada asked softly while gripping onto the plastic bag holding the things she got for you.

“go away bada, i’m fine” you mumbled at the door praying she could hear you.

that answer wasn’t good enough for bada. she may be oblivious to a lot of things, but she always knew when you didn’t feel okay. she slowly opened the door and looked at you balled up figure on your bed. the tall girl placed the bag of snacks on your desk and went to sit next to you on your bed. you huffed, sat up, and turned to face the taller girl.

“bada what don’t you understand about “go away” or “i’m fine”?” you asked the girl next to you tiredly. “i’m so tired just leave okay?” you pleaded.

“y/n i can tell you’re not fine, don’t lie to me now. we’re best friends.” bada said seriously looking you in your eyes.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at her statement. bada tilted her head in confusion at your actions.

“what does that mean?” the oblivious girl asked.

“bada, if we’re seriously best friends…then why do you ignore and throw away every piece of advice i give you?” you started to get worked up, tears already brimming at your eyes again. “you act like you listen to what i say and you cherish it, but in reality you never do.” you said with your voice beginning to get shaky.

“y/n what-“

you cut off your best friend immediately. “don’t ask me what i mean because you know what i’m talking about. i tell you that going on a bunch of dates won’t help you find the one who deserves your love, you agree, say you appreciate me so much and wish you dated someone like me, and then turn around a few days later to go on dates.” you said as tears slowly began to fall down your face. you could barely think about what you were saying at the point, you were just speaking. bada sat there silently in shock listening to you explain everything.

“and bada you always do this. sure, it’s my fault that i accidentally fell in love with my best friend, so yeah seeing you go on all these failed dates and you saying you wish they were like me always make me jealous. but as your best friend it breaks my heart ten times more to see you just waste your time on these losers and just tossing me to the side.” you said as you were fully crying at this point. you were so deep in your emotions you didn’t even realize you just confessed your love to your best friend.

it took bada a while to understand what you had just said but once she did, she immediately started crying with you. you were very confused to see bada cry along with you. you were going to ask why she had began crying but she had said “you’re in love with me y/n?”

you were so shocked as you didn’t even realize what you had said until she said something, you gasped at the realization and looked up at bada, now you were afraid. even though you were upset with bada, you didn’t want to lose her all together.

“bada wait i-“

“no y/n, be honest with me…are you seriously in love with me?” bada asked looking into your eyes, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly in hers.

you looked down, unable to face her. “yes bada, i’ve been in love with you for years. you were even the reason why i realized i was a lesbian, since i’m telling you everything…” you laughed slightly out of embarrassment.

bada couldn’t help but to smile at your confession through her tears “y/n- no my princess, i should have just been honest with you and myself. i also fell in love with my best friend. i thought going on all these dates wishing they were you would maybe help. i never knew you could feel the same way, i was so oblivious. i am so so sorry i hurt you in the process, i never wanted to do that. you are the most important person to me. i love you so much princess.” bada confessed to you while still holding onto your hands. your head shot up at her confession and you looked at her in her eyes to make sure she was being serious. you could tell she was being serious so you couldn’t help but cry out of happiness.

bada pulled you into her and hugged you tightly. you wrapped your arms around her waist and cried into her chest. she let her tears fall freely as well as she held you in her arms as her own.

once you both calmed down, bada pulled away to look at your pretty face and admire the girl she loved so much. she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled at you. you smiled back at bada and giggled.

“does this mean…we’re girlfriends?” you questioned shyly.

bada chuckled at your shyness before nodding. “yes, yes you’re my girlfriend and i’m yours princess.”

you giggled and placed a quick peck to bada’s lips, still holding her close. bada blushed at the peck before bringing you back into her and kissing your lips softly. you both sat there letting that kiss make up for the lost time that you could’ve been together.

when bada pulled away from the kiss, you whined and looked up at the taller girl with puppy eyes. bada laughed at your actions before smirking down at you.

“why? does my princess want more?” your girlfriend teased you while rubbing her hands up and down your sides. you nodded quickly in response before stretching your neck back up to meet her lips.

bada deepened the kiss, biting your lips softly. your kisses got messier and filled with more and more passion. you were holding onto bada for dear life as she licked across your lips, signaling you that she wanted in. you let her have access so easily, her tongue easily dominated yours as you both continued to hold each other close and make out on your bed. the whimpers and moans you both let out were swallowed by the other within your kisses.

eventually after you both pulled away to catch your breaths, you spotted the plastic grocery bag on your desk.

“baby what’s that?” you questioned softly while pointing at the bag with your finger.

bada blushed at the pet name you gave her before answering you. “it’s all of your favorites princess! fruit jellies, strawberry milk, and potato chips. i bought them earlier to try to make you feel better.”

you smiled up at your girlfriend giggling at the sweet action. “you’re perfect, oblivious as hell, but perfect. i’m so lucky” you said sweetly while getting up to get the bag of snacks.

bada watched you get up as she shook her head in disagreement. “princess, i’m definitely the lucky one, you’re the best girlfriend i could have asked for. i should have really just dated you from the start…” bada trailed off as her face turned into a pout.

you returned to the bed with your snacks acquired and kissed the cute pout off of bada’s face. after that quick kiss, she was nothing but smiles.

“now hush you big puppy, let’s not focus on the lost time. let’s just focus on us now.” you stated as you snuggled into bada.

bada held you close as you snuggled into her. she knew you were right, there’s no use in dwelling on what already happened. all she wanted to do now was create new amazing memories with you.

bada looked at you while smiling and said “so a movie and snacks?”

you chuckled and smiled back at her “you read my mind baby.”

[xoxochb]

I saw you were taking ‘Leo x reader’ requests so I thought I’d throw some ideas out there!!! :D (they’re random ideas I’ve been writing in my notes app so sorry they’re not too planned and specific…)

1.) (rivals-to-lovers) Fighting over music on the Argo II with him. Either over aux or they’re neighbors on the ship and he plays his music loud so reader does the same to drown it out… and then it turns into a little petty loud music battle.

2.) (???-to-lovers) Reader is cold so they go to his room for an extra blanket because he’s a human furnace so chances are he sleeps without one. He doesn’t have any but offers to cuddle with them. Others find out and snap a photo in the morning.

3.) Reader spends money on him (paying for food, buying something he was looking at, etc.) and Leo starts crying because he hasn’t had someone do that for him since his mom. With a fluff ending

4.) Like number 3 but with a surprise brithday party, maybe a confession at the end or maybe it’s already an established relationship?

5.) (friends-to-lovers) Percy and Leo are joking about who is more charming/attractive and the reader picks Leo. One of the others is like “Percy obviously, he’s everyone’s type, literally almost everyone has had a crush on him or found him attractive at first”. And the reader is like “Speak for yourself.” Everyone just looks over at them, even Leo is shocked lol. Maybe he gets flirty with them after and teases about it.

6.) Same as 6 but it’s some other camper making fun of him and the reader stands up for him. Maybe they fake date or something?

7.) Leo and reader are on counsler duty helping younger campers for arts and crafts. Reader makes him a friendship bracelet and he wears it all the time.

I know there’s a lot, but I just wanted to throw stuff out there for if you’re ever in a writing block, you don’t have to reply to this either any of the requests if they aren’t something you’re interested in! I just love your work (sersiouly your writing is so good omg) so I thought I’d brain dump ideas!!!

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆·˚ ༘ * he built a fire just to keep me warm

warnings: one sexual reference

pairing: leo valdez x fem! reader

right side, left side, back, stomach, sitting up. no matter how you slept it was still insanely freezing in your cabin. you’re three blankets were not enough to radiate warmth through your body. you lie awake for gods know how long, staring at the ceiling, then back at the clock, a repeating cycle between the two. you take another look at the clock: 1:58 it reads

great, so you’ve been awake almost the whole night and now it’s yesterdays tomorrow. an idea, an idea, you scan your brain for a genius idea that will help you sleep the rest of the night. would another blanket do? no it won’t because five minutes after you’re still cold. turn up the heat? then it will be too hot and there’s a possibility your siblings will complain. you’re left with only one option: get a fourth blanket. you’ve run out of blankets, your three currently being used, however you know the perfect boy who would be glad to give you one of his, and it’s your human furnace of a best friend leo valdez

he had told you many times that he sleeps with only one singular blanket since he tends to overheat with any more than that amount. he had said however that if you ever needed an extra he would be happy to give up his one for the sake of your happiness

you remove the three blankets from your body, standing up and unfortunately embracing the cold of your cabin. you slide your slippers on and throw one of leo’s sweatshirts on- another thing he had offered to you one night at a campfire, you recall it almost vividly, and the faint scent of fire still lingers on it

you had began to make your way to cabin nine, the cold air of night almost worse than your cabin, but nonetheless you power through it. once arrived at your much anticipated destination you open the door slowly, the warmth of the cabin warming you up instantly; you don’t know what you would’ve done if leo wasn’t a child of hephaestus

you make your way to his bed just fine, having spent many mornings taking this path to wake him for breakfast. you stand on the side, watching him sleep so peacefully, you hated to wake him from his sleep, he never got much of it. perhaps it was creepy to be staring as he slept, your worries got the best of you though, you felt terrible waking up for a problem of your own

“perverted much?”

you swore you saw the underworld for a moment, a hand flies to your chest and you breathe heavily. you watch as leo sits up in his bed

“oh my gods” you take a large breath “I’m sorry, I don’t- jeez- uhm, could I use your blanket? It’s freezing in my cabin”

the moment the words fall from your mouth you realize he has no blanket. a frown forms on your lips almost instantly

“I threw my blanket in the closet for the summer, haven’t taken it out yet” there’s a long pause before he speaks again “you could sleep with me though?”

sleep with leo? only your fantasies were privileged enough to be granted that honor. just sleeping right? this can’t be that bad. just go to sleep, that’s it

you crush and best friend leo valdez is asking you to sleep with him? this can’t be right

“are you sure?” you ask

“of course” he moves over to make room for you to lay, you gladly do so, eager to get warm

It’s awkward for a moment. side by side you feel his warmth through his shirt, was there any way he could just simply give it to you? probably not, you’re only option was to get any closer if that was possible, you push away this thought though, he was your best friend not your boyfriend

for a while this was how it went, you assume he fell asleep shortly after you joined him. was it the heat? your sleepiness? were you possessed? you’re unsure how it happened but you find yourself cozying up to leo, a position much to couple-y for best friends. soon enough a warm arm is wrapped around your waist, sending you into a deep sleep

you would say this was the best night of your life. the many campers taking photos in the morning would agree

[skyward-floored]

Here’s my (very late) birthday fic for @kikker-oma, it’s based off her art for day 17 of whumptober!

(Which at least one other person has already written a fic for but I didn’t realize until after I’d already started writing it so any similarities are pure coincidence 😅)

https://www.tumblr.com/kikker-oma/731400216730828800?source=share

I hope you like it Oma, happy (very belated) birthday!!!

————————————————————

Something was wrong with Legend.

Time could see it in the way the teenager walked, his steps heavy and dragging. How he lingered at the back of the group and barely spoke, mostly just nodding along to whatever it was Wind was telling him, and didn’t go out of his way to speak to anyone, his words sharp and vicious when he did.

Normally Time wouldn’t think twice about Legend being a little extra antisocial and standoffish. He was often grumpy (though Time had seen his soft interior once or twice in the brief time they’d been traveling together), and it wasn’t surprising his mood would get a little more severe now and then.

No, the worrying thing was that it had been several days since the behavior began, and it hadn’t gone away yet.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

Legend seemed to get more lethargic and snappish as they traveled across the wilderness of Wild’s Hyrule, keeping to himself even more intensely, and largely ignoring the rest of them. He’d gotten paler too, in just the few days of whatever this was, and Time was only growing more concerned.

It was worrying. Incredibly so.

Time had been keeping a closer eye on Legend ever since he’d realized something was up, and most of the others seemed to catch on that something was wrong as well, but nobody had confronted Legend about it yet. Or if they had, hadn’t succeeded at all in fixing the problem. Twilight had tried to tactfully approach the subject just that morning, and Legend had nearly bitten his head off in response.

Time wasn’t sure what to do, and he wasn’t the only one.

After all, none of them liked to admit something was wrong with themselves— Time himself was certainly guilty of that— but Legend, prickly as he was, was one of the worst. Confronting him head-on about whatever the issue was would only make him more likely to deny anything was wrong at all, as Twilight had already demonstrated earlier.

But someone needed to get through to him, before something snapped.

And later that day, Time finally got a chance.

They’d reached a good spot to stop for the night, Time watching Legend like a hawk the entire trip there. The veteran had nearly tripped on nothing a few times, but had covered it up so quickly nobody could call him out on it.

They had eaten dinner fairly quietly for once, Wild roasting some mushrooms and meat of some kind. Legend kept to himself during the meal, barely picking at his food, and staying out of the conversation. Everyone pretended not to watch, but it was almost laughable how obvious it was that they were all keeping an eye on him, the worry hanging like a cloud over the group.

And Legend seemed to have noticed the increased scrutiny, as later when the heroes were all settling down for the night— cleaning up dinner, getting out bed rolls— Legend stood and told them all he was going to patrol around.

“Really? Are you sure?” Hyrule piped up, and Four frowned from next to him when Legend nodded.

“...By yourself?” the smithy asked.

A very slight edge of concern lay in his voice, and Legend’s shoulders immediately hiked up to his ears.

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?” he shot back in a sharper tone than normal, and Four quickly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Of course not Vet, I know you can,” he reassured, and Warriors stepped in.

“Exactly. It’s just dark, and we’re in unfamiliar territory, that’s all,” Warriors put in, and Legend turned to glare at him.

“Yet that’s never an issue when Twilight goes off by himself,” Legend snapped. “Shove off Captain. I’m the veteran, remember? I’ll be fine.”

Then before anyone could stop him, he disappeared into the trees.

All of them watched in an uncomfortable silence as Legend stomped away, and Time stopped Twilight when he went to follow him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Best we wait until he’s calmer,” he said, and Twilight exhaled, then sat down. “...And probably best someone who hasn’t made him mad yet go.”

“I think that’s just you at this point,” Sky pointed out, and Time paused, then sighed as he realized Sky was right. Every single one of the rest of the group had been the target of Legend’s ire in the past few days. Time somehow was the only one who had escaped unscathed... which made him the perfect candidate to follow Legend now.

“All right,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, and settled down to wait.

“Hylia be with you,” Wild muttered as he cleaned his cooking pot. “You’re gonna need her.”

(...)

Half an hour later, as the others either went to bed or tried to busy themselves, Time got up and headed in the direction that Legend had stormed off in.

The moon was large and bright in the sky, and Time almost didn’t need the lantern he’d brought to find Legend’s trail. Though despite the moonlight lighting his path and the assistance of the lantern, it took Time much longer to find the hunched-over figure of Legend then he’d thought it would.

Legend had gone a fair distance from camp, and plunked himself down on a large fallen tree, his head bowed as he stared at the ground. He didn’t react when Time stepped a bit closer, and Time frowned as he watched him for a moment.

Were his shoulders shaking?

Time purposely crunched a few leaves to signal his presence, and Legend’s ear twitched in response. He didn’t do anything else though, and didn’t look at Time when he carefully sat down beside him on the log and set down the lantern.

An owl hooted nearby, and Time listened to it a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

“They can be an overbearing bunch, can’t they?” he remarked in the silence, the owl going quiet.

Legend flicked an ear, and didn’t respond.

“...They mean well, though,” Time continued when the silence stretched between them. ”They’re not trying to be overwhelming, or even nuisances. They’re... just concerned about you, Vet.”

Legend let out a little huff of air that almost sounded amused.

“Right,” he said flatly. “Well they shouldn’t bother, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

His hand tightened where it was held around his waist, and Time couldn’t help but notice when it did. Legend’s face seemed paler in the moonlight shining down on it as well, but when he saw Time staring at him, he scowled.

“Go back to camp old man, I’m fine,” he muttered.

Time took a deep breath. Nayru grant me wisdom, here’s where it gets tricky.

“The way you’ve been acting the past few days seems to speak towards a different answer,” he said in a level voice.

“Well whatever it is you think you’ve noticed is all in your imagination,” Legend shot back, clutching his middle even tighter.

Time looked at it again, and paused in what he was about to say as a thought suddenly dawned on him. He couldn’t remember for sure, not everything at least, but if he was right... would Legend really do something so detrimental to his health like that?

“Legend... when was the last time you ate anything?”

Legend’s mouth turned into a thin, hard line.

Ah-ha.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re pushing yourself not to for some reason,” Time said, firmness creeping into his tone as he watched the boy. “We have plenty of supplies Legend, why aren’t you eating?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Legend snapped back, glaring at him. “And even if I am, maybe I’m just not hungry.”

“Not hungry at all?” Time asked with a raised eyebrow, thinking back to the past several days. “Legend, I don’t seem to recall you actually eating anything recently, you can’t just starve yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe it would be better for everyone if I did!”

Time blinked in surprise, and Legend’s anger seemed to falter a moment, something horribly vulnerable cracking through the prickly mask he’d thrown on. But he quickly tossed it back over himself, despite the tears trying to gather in his eyes, and his expression reverted back to the anger he’d possessed a few moments ago.

“Link,” Time said quietly, and Legend looked away. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Okay? Would you shove off?”

“Legend,” Time said imploringly, and Legend’s ears pinned back against his head.

“Look I’ve handled it alone before, I can handle it now,” Legend suddenly bit out, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just— nothing!”

“Nothing wouldn’t make you raise your voice like this,” Time pointed out.

“Well it is!” Legend said in a slightly quieter tone, though it still shook in anger.

Something in Time’s chest ached at the rawness in his voice and the tears that had returned to his eyes. Legend’s lip was trembling, but he was firmly biting down on it to stop it from doing so, and he looked like he was close to losing what control he had left.

Time studied him more intently, trailing carefully over skin flushed with anger, over shaking fists and shoulders, at the hand still held close to his middle.

The shakiness, refusing to eat, the paleness of his face...

Time’s eye widened as a new thought crossed his mind, and he exhaled, reaching a careful hand towards Legend.

“Link, you’re sick, aren’t you?” Time asked in a soft voice, and Legend’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s at least part of this, isn’t it?”

Legend slapped away his extended hand.

“Go away,” he bit out, something truly dangerous in his voice, but Time was nearing the eye of the storm and he wasn’t prepared to back out now. “Go back to camp, wander in the woods or whatever, I don’t care. Just leave.”

“Legend,” Time said, shifting closer. “You can’t keep ignoring this. You nearly fell over earlier, how long have you been feeling ill?”

“There’s nothing to ignore,” Legend snarled. “Just— just leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” Time said, his voice soft, but firm. “You need help, and I won’t—”

“I don’t!” Legend shouted, his voice hoarse. He tried to get to his feet, but Time quickly caught him by the wrists, stopping him from leaving. “Just— let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend tried to jerk out of his hold with no success.

The teenager’s wrists were warm in his grasp, and Time could feel them shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the illness Legend was fighting. Either way, he wasn’t making any headway in escaping, even though Time was sure Legend would have normally been halfway across the forest by now.

Legend tried to swing a fist at Time, but he didn’t succeed in the slightest, the older hero still holding him tight.

“What’s wrong, Link?” he asked, and Legend only struggled harder in his grip.

“Let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend let out a cry of frustration.

His eyes were glassy with tears as he glared, and his breath came in short pants as he tried desperately to free himself. Legend’s facade of being perfectly fine had dropped in his anger and panic, and Time was now wondering how on earth any of them had missed just how bad things had gotten.

“Leave me ALONE old man!” Legend shouted.

But Time kept holding him, equally gentle and firm as he tried to lurch away. He met Legend’s eyes, stormy and swirling with emotion, and gave his hands a soft squeeze.

“Legend, son, please let me help you,” he said softly.

Legend’s face twisted with rage.

“Don’t call me that!” he nearly screamed, and tried one last time to pull Time’s arms out of his grip.

But he was too weak to free himself, the sickness affecting his strength. Legend couldn’t do anything but struggle, his breath coming in quick gasps, wrists trembling in Time’s hold as he tried to free himself with one last burst of desperation.

Then he crumpled forward, a sob wracking his body.

Time’s eye widened, and he caught Legend, immediately running a hand through his bangs. His forehead was hot where Time’s fingers brushed it, and Legend was shaking so hard he felt like he would fall apart, Time soothing him as he sobbed again.

“Legend, easy,” Time whispered, panic trying to burrow into his chest. He’d never seen Legend like this, screaming and crying and showing his emotions in such a blatantly un-Legend way. And he didn’t exactly have experience with soothing sobbing, feverish teenagers, but Legend was acting so strange...

There’s something else at play here then just a virus, Time thought worriedly, Legend letting out an unsightly hiccup.

All of Legend’s strength seemed to have been used up by their argument, and he lay nearly limp against Time’s arm, shivering, with tears still escaping the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Link?” Time asked again, careful and soft.

This time Legend didn’t try to pull away or scream at him. He merely let out a quiet breath, one that shuddered on the exhale.

“I... I don’t...” Legend croaked, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t... again.”

“You can’t what?” Time asked, and Legend swallowed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Time shifted his grip a little so that Legend’s head rested more comfortably on his shoulder, and waited for him to continue.

“...Care,” Legend whispered finally. His hand tightened where it was fisted in Time’s shirt. “Every time I-I care, someone gets... hurt. I get hurt, I... I can’t again, not...”

He let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes squeezed more tightly shut.

“I don’t want you all to care,” he whispered.

Time looked down at the boy in his arms, shivering and feverish and trying so desperately to fight through it himself, and exhaled.

Oh.

Legend curled into himself at the admission, tears still falling down his cheeks, and Time suddenly saw himself, trying to keep a safe distance from everyone who tried to care for him, afraid of anyone slipping past his barriers and finding the scared little boy hiding behind so desperate for love.

Time swallowed.

We’re all horribly similar, are we not?

“...Being known is a terrifying thing,” Time said after several moments of silence drifted past, voice barely a whisper.

Legend shuddered again.

“I used to think it impossible,” Time whispered. “To be known, but not hurt. Drifting along and staying unattached seemed best, safer. Even when I was in desperate need of help, taking care of myself... seemed like it would hurt less. Without Malon, I have no doubts I would still be that way.”

Time sighed, and looked down at Legend, not even sure if the words were getting through his fever.

“Legend... you don’t have to tell us everything. But we are a team. Brothers, in spirit if not by blood. By merit of those things alone... we care for you,” he said simply. “I have no doubt that if any one of us were in the condition you’re currently in, you would be caring for them as fiercely as anything.“

Time shifted, and met Legend’s eyes, puffy and red, and bright with fever and exhaustion.

“Let us do the same for you.”

Legend closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Time’s shoulder, face scrunched slightly with pain. Several long moments went by, and then Legend let out an exhausted exhale, and gave Time the smallest nod he’d ever seen.

“...Sure. Fine,” he muttered, almost so quietly Time didn’t hear him. “...But only because my head is pounding so hard I can’t... think of anything better at the moment.”

“Trying is half the battle,” Time said with a faint smile, and Legend sighed again, heavy and exhausted.

Time pulled Legend up into his arms, and noted with a bit of worry that Legend was rather frail in his hold, still shivering. And normally the veteran would protest up and down about being carried, but Legend was completely silent, only a few leftover sniffles coming from him as Time hooked the lantern he’d brought to his belt so his hands would be free.

It truly was a miracle Legend had lasted this long without collapsing in front of them all— but Time knew the power of stubbornness when it came to this sort of thing. Malon was still mad at him for that time he’d tried to milk the cows when he’d had that broken wrist.

It was still impressive, though.

I wonder how long he’s had a fever, he wondered as Legend shifted in his arms. One this intense wouldn’t just appear... it must have been at least a day or two.

“...Don’t tell the others,” Legend suddenly whispered as Time began to walk back to camp, and Time looked down at him. “About... you know.”

Time nodded. “The only thing they get to know about is you being sick,” he promised, and Legend relaxed a bit further in his arms.

When they got back to camp, everyone stared, but nobody commented on Legend’s tear-streaked face, or the fact that he was shivering and being carried. Twilight made eye contact with Time, looking at Legend in concern, and Time mouthed the word ‘fever’.

Twilight’s face softened with understanding, and he quickly put out Legend’s bedroll so Time could get Legend into it.

Legend didn’t resist, and the others didn’t directly address the fact that he had obviously been hiding the fact that he was sick from them all. They merely went about their business, occasionally drifting by where Legend was lying in his bedroll, offering a few words, or some food, or just quiet company that offered to place a wet cloth on his forehead.

And when Legend finally fell asleep, he looked more relaxed then Time had seen him in weeks.

[itsabouttimex2]

Saccharine Snacks

Platonic Yandere Sun Wukong Drabble

Something feels different about today. Not necessarily wrong… just a little off. Just a few seconds after you wake up, the feeling sinks in. Nothing is inherently off-putting or uncomfortable, but that gnawing pang persists. The air feels strangely thick, like it’s trying to restrict your movement. The brightness of the sun that streams in from the window feels almost artificial.

But nothing is different. Everywhere you look, and everywhere you check… it’s all the exact same as it’s always been. It almost feels like a challenge, your brain racing to find the reason for this feeling, searching for the smallest difference, some minute variation in your room that would justify the strange feeling plaguing you. Predictably, you turn up nothing.

There’s no new additions, nothing taken away without your notice.

Maybe you really are just being paranoid. Maybe the air is just off. Maybe it was something as simple as a bad dream throwing you off. Whatever it it, you can’t quite shake the feeling. Not even as you get dressed, grab your staff, and head out to meet your mentor to get started with your training.

As always, he greets you with a cheeky smile, waving you into the kitchen.

“It’s not often that I see you in here,” you very casually point out. Once, it had been a little strange to speak so openly to someone so revered and powerful. But it had been by his own request that you spoke to him as an equal and friend rather than a mentor. There was no need to be so serious, after all.

“Except when we’re training. Then you really do need to take me seriously, bud,” he had told you. “Cause what I’m teaching can be just a smidge… dangerous, you know? Don’t worry, don’t worry! Nothing that’ll kill a little mortal like you, I swear!”

Even his reassurances can be goofy and heartening, with the way he acts. Just another thing you’d gotten used to. He gestures for you to come into the kitchen, waving you to the chair across from him.

“Well, I wanted to try and make something special today! I was in a kinda… ‘cooking mood’, y’know?” He looks up at you, holding a knife awkwardly as he unevenly slices cores cherries into disks.

“That doesn’t look like cooking to me,” you lightheartedly point out. “And your knifework could use some practice.”

“Yeah? So could your staff-work,” he teases back, dumping the segmented cherries into a large bowl. He grabs a handful of strawberries and moves them to his cutting board, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you, only half-focused on his task. “And what would you call it, huh? Baking? Broiling? Grilling? C’mon, bud-“

“Preparing,” you somewhat smugly interrupt. “I’d call it preparing a salad.”

He chuckles at your semi-confident tone before sliding you a cutting board and knife.

“If you’ve got time to sass me, then you’ve got time to help me, bud. Take two of those peaches from the sack over there and slice ‘em up.”

The fruit is soft and plump, fitting snugly in the palm of your hand. With two in tow, you return to the cutting board and slice them lengthways, splitting them in half and prying out the pits.

“Those are good peaches,” he explains unprompted. “Took me a while to get ‘em, actually. So I wanted to share with you.”

Sun Wukong is a good friend. He likes to dote on you when he gets the chance, and always works his hardest to keep you in good mood. He’s taught you a lot about martial arts, and never seems to get impatient with your progress, even when you find it nearly impossible to keep up with him.

Sun Wukong is a good friend.

So you trust him without hesitation when he snatches up a chunk of peach and lifts it to your lips- he shares his food with you all the time. This is nothing new for either of you.

The peach is soft all the way through, fuzzy pink skin unblemished by marks or spots. The white flesh is perfectly saccharine.

“It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say with a smile.

Your friend doesn’t answer. He’s too busy smiling. It’ll take you a while to figure out why, but there’s no need to worry.

You’ve got all the time in the world, now.

[comicaurora]

Hey Red!

I have a writing question I’d like to ask, if that’s cool with you!

When it comes to starting a new story, big or small, pantsing or structuring, with black tea or chamomile, do you have any tips for, er, actually pulling the trigger and beginning? I don’t mean the “accusatory blank page”, I mean in getting to the “I genuinely believe this is a story worth telling and that should be told by me” mindset sufficient to commit. (Insofar as there’s a difference.)

Asking you because you’re someone who has excellent and proven skills in showwomanship, creativity, execution and all-round good storytelling vibes. Cuz while I’ve studied story structure and writing advice aplenty… It’s hard to take the dive when you’ve only ever been in the kiddie pool, so to speak.

Thanks either way!

Aw shucks!

I kinda feel like there's an intermediate stage here that I usually hit first, which is when I've been telling a story for myself for so long that I start feeling like I don't want to keep it to myself anymore.

A lot of the stuff I write or draw is just for me - stuff where I enjoy the act of creation or use it to flesh out and play with a concept I've been toying with. Sketchbook stuff that doesn't have an outside audience in mind, just stuff that I like. These aren't stories that have the end goal of sharing them - hell, half of them are just comic or prose adaptations of story beats that stuck with me that I wanted to play around with as practice and for fun. The rest of it is sketch pages of characters, doodles of scenes or snippets of prose writing built around a single scene or concept.

I think that the creative urge, when examined, should be subdivided into two extremely distinct subsections for clarity; the desire to make, and the desire to share. Not every person shares both in equal measure - in fact I'd say it's much more common for them to exist independently. The desire to share isn't limited to art you yourself created, either - fandom is constructed from a massive excess of the desire to share, passing around a story for examination and discussion because it is inherently fun to share the experience, and most of us can relate to the burning need to talk about this thing that's in my brain. And there's plenty of art that results from the desire to make that has none of the desire to share, ref cit everything in a sketchbook or every private writing exercise done for the joy of it. Neither element can be forced, and there's nothing wrong with either one existing without the other.

For me at least, the desire to share builds slowly for the larger projects. I might be eager to share a doodle or a sketch I think people will get a kick out of, but something bigger and more complicated will stay in my brain for much longer, and might never make it out. For me, Aurora started as just a playground for me to write and draw in, but over the years it built up to something I wanted to share - something I felt I'd be betraying if I let it sit in my head. It kind of just grew naturally, and if I'd tried to force it beforehand I would've felt self-conscious and uncomfortable rather than getting any joy out of the act of sharing.

[hvly]

most prized secret ft. getou suguru

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

sᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ : posted this on the wrong blog, but look who’s finally here ! i told y’all i’d post it on tuesday 🤭 never said which tuesday though. it was a long time coming, but i finally delivered. thank you @gayblade & @cu7ie for the help. truly saved this from going in the trenches. happy halloween, everybody 👹

𓆩𖥔𓆪 — disclaimer ! the following contains: getou's a straight up freak, kidnapping, body horror/amputation, mention of blood, wound kissing(?) implied noncon, reader is referred to as “his girl”, but there’s nothing gender specific

𓆩𖥔𓆪 — word count : 3.2k

“These are so pretty ! They don’t even look like they were ever damaged !” the woman exclaimed, gently placing her palm against the glass that separated her from the porcelain doll on the other side.

Getou smiled warmly as the woman marveled at the massive display of antique dolls, her head turning slowly in awe as she explored his workshop.

The last thing anyone would expect Getou Suguru to do for a living was play with dolls. Or at least that’s how it came across when he would casually say he collects and fixes antiques. When he was met with disbelieving stares and surprised “oh wow’s”, he would offer to show them his shop and let his handiwork do all the talking for him. He knew most people found it strange that a grown man would spend time fixing up dolls intended for little girls and lonely old ladies, but there was much more to it than that.

“They are, aren’t they?” he smiled, hands buried into the pockets of his smock as the woman continued to admire the delicate figures. She nodded, mouth agape as she returned to the counter Getou was leaning against. “You really fixed all of these up by yourself?” she asked, eyes unable to stray from the dolls on display for too long. Getou hummed, pushing himself off of the counter’s edge to admire his art. He opened a case, carefully taking out a doll in a white and blue laced dress into his hands, smoothing her honey blonde hair down her back as he gazed at her.

“When these precious things get sent to me, most of them are in pretty good shape.” He muses, rubbing a thumb over the doll’s delicate face. “Some are just a little dirty and faded. Nothing a little soap, water, and paint can’t fix. Others, like this pretty girl here,” he says, gently holding up the figure for the woman to see, “Are stripped of their beauty entirely.” He places the doll back on its display, slowly closing the case once it’s secured safely in place. “Broken with missing pieces, clothing torn; stripped of all their luster and dignity.”

Getou’s expression darkened a bit, his hands lingering on the display handles for a moment longer. “That someone could show such little care to something so delicate; it bothers me,” he said, indignation clear in his tone.

“But, no matter !” he exclaimed, throwing out his arms with a flourish, “I give them all the care they need to be returned to their former glory.” The woman stared, taking in all of what he had said. There was no doubt that he was talented at his craft. Restoring them didn’t seem easy, considering how half, if not all, could’ve been older than either one of them. It was nothing short of impressive.

Her eyes landed on the figurine Getou was previously holding, the doll’s subdued features a stark contrast to the rest of her bright lolita-esque appearance. “Is that one your favorite then?” the woman asked, motioning to the case the doll was in. Getou peeked over his shoulder to where she was pointing before turning back around, a gentle smile on his face as he answered.

“I love all my girls. But,” he paused, turning on his heels slightly. He motioned for the woman to come closer and whispered the last part, as if to not offend any of the dolls. “To be honest with you, there’s one I’m still working on that might just take that spot.”

The woman’s eyes lit up with intrigue as she looked around once more. Getou silently walked behind the counter as her head whipped from side to side in search of his current work in progress. He undid his smock and pulled the paint splattered piece over his head, his long raven hair messily draping his shoulders. The woman approached again as he was pulling his hair up into a more manageable style.

He smiled kindly as she returned, grabbing his apron and wiping his hands on a spot that was relatively clean. “Were you able to find what you were looking for?” he asked playfully, fully aware that the woman was never going to. The woman sighed in defeat, shaking her head with a good natured laugh. “No, but I doubt you’d just have an unfinished project out in the open for all to see, right?” she said, taking one last glance around the many cases in the store.

Getou chuckled lightly as he hung up his apron. “Well, this one’s a bit of a passion project. So it’s for my eyes only I’m afraid,” he spoke over his shoulder before turning to move from behind the counter space. “I like to work on it when I have some free time,” he added, kicking one leg over the other and leaning slightly against the counter’s edge. He stood with his fingers interlocked, a patient smile on his lips.

The woman hummed, catching onto Getou’s silent signal that it was time to wrap up her little visit. “Well, that’s a shame. I’m sure it would’ve been beautiful,” she said, pushing herself from the counter to take her leave. Getou thanks the woman for the compliment, walking her to the store’s entrance. The overhead bell rings as he opens the door for her, the conversation coming to an end with ‘thank yous’ and ‘take cares’ being exchanged.

Getou stands at the store entrance, waving after her until he was certain she was out of sight. With a sigh, he locked the front door and flipped the “open” sign to “close”, signaling the end of his day.

“Now then,” he muttered, walking over to a display far in the back and reaching behind it. A loud click sounded from behind the shelves before it began to slowly swing open, rumbling softly as it did. An engraved wooden door revealed itself from behind the shelf, an intricate design carved into the mantel overhead. Getou dug a key out of his pocket, unlocking the hidden door and pushing it open.

The heavy door groaned as it slowly opened, a steady shhh as the bottom of it dragged across the floor. The inside of the room was barely lit, overcasted in a soft white light. It wasn’t enough to see anything in detail, but it was enough to make out there was indeed furniture. A bitter sweet smell permeated throughout the room. A combination of cleaning products and a faint trace of a sickeningly sweet perfume. Getou clicked his tongue upon the scent hitting his nostrils, his face scrunched up in discontent. He had to remember this room didn’t have the greatest ventilation system and to maybe tone back the cleaning.

Getou reached over to the light switch, slowly turning the dial to an appropriate brightness. The room was cutely decorated, cream colored walls with various accents of soft pinks and white. Pretty stuffed animals and plush throw pillows were scattered freely (but neatly) around the room. It looked like something straight off of a soft girl’s pinterest board.

Well…with the exception of the operation cart and the statuesque person who sat silently in bed in the farthest corner of the room.

“Hello, my love,” he said, his voice soft as he made his way across the room. “I see you’re sitting up today. That’s quite the improvement,” He gazed at you tenderly, his hand gently caressing your face. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and his lips lingered for a few seconds longer before he moved back, a placid smile gracing his features. You made no motion that would suggest you acknowledged his presence or if you even recognized someone was there to begin with.

You stared far off into the distance, eyes void of any emotion or awareness. Getou tucked his leg under him as he sat on the bed, pulling the medical cart placed beside it closer to his side. An array of medical instruments were neatly lined up on the stainless steel tray, along with various bandages, gauzes and antiseptic cleaning sprays. “Maybe we'll work on using our voice today, hmm?” He asked as he pulled on his latex gloves, watching you intently as they snapped against his skin.

You blinked at the sound, something reminiscent of a flinch. Getou cooed at your – frankly, interpreted – reaction, his hands coming to gingerly cup your face. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, dearest,” he reassured, rubbing calming circles on your cheeks with his thumbs. He adjusted to face you, carefully pulling the blanket that covered you to the side to reveal what should have been your legs.

Instead, there was a white casting that ended right before the knee. Same for your arms, surgical tape wrapped securely around where the rest of your forearm would be. Getou exhaled, cautiously taking one of your legs into his hand. He slowly and carefully unwrapped the material, going over and under in one smooth motion until it was fully unraveled into a pile on the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief upon the sight of your wound. The dark purple bruises along the stitches were clearing up, fading nicely into your natural hue. The stitches themselves also seemed to be faring well, the material less prominent against your skin from when it was first put there.

The wound was in the early stages of healing, your skin starting to mend back together with a fresh scab to aid in the process. Getou rubbed a gloved thumb along the suture before looking back at you with a small grin. “It’s healing really well,” he said, reaching over to grab gauze and saline solution to care for your stitches. He hummed to himself as he wet the cloth, being careful not to over saturate it. “In a couple more days, I’d say these stitches will completely dissolve.”

With his free hand Getou steadied your leg and prepared to clean your wound. He glanced at you one more time. “Alright, you know the drill. If you feel any discomfort,” he paused, giving your thigh a firm but gentle squeeze. “Let me know.” The last bit sounded something like a plea rather than a general statement. You continued to stare flatly at the wall and Getou took your occasional blinks as confirmation that you understood him.

Getou took a deep breath before exhaling, dabbing the damp gauze along the stitches. Once it was thoroughly cleaned, he took a dry gauze and patted it dry. He quietly repeated this process again on your other leg, the clattering of objects on the surgical tray being the only sound in the room. As he worked, Getou let his mind wander to fill the silence.

How long has it been since he last heard your voice? A couple weeks now? Maybe longer? God, it felt like an eternity had passed since then.

You were someone who frequented Getou’s shop often. Bouncing around display cases, enamored by the beauty of the countless dolls, childlike wonder dancing in your eyes. At first he paid you no mind, treating your visits like he would an elderly woman coming to reminisce and tell him stories of “how she had a doll just like this” when she was younger. Polite and available if you had any questions or just wanted him to lend an ear. But the more you visited, the more he felt drawn to you. Your guilelessness intrigued him, your excitement to see dolls you had already seen at least 50 times by now never waning.

Then one day you bounded up to him, smile wide and eyes bright. 

Full of joy and genuine curiosity. It was like a bottle of pure sunshine was opened right in the center of his shop. He felt warm in his soul when you looked at him, your jovial energy palpable and infectious to any and everybody. Getou couldn’t remember when he genuinely felt so calm and happy in the presence of another person. He wanted to bottle up this feeling and get drunk off it for the rest of his life. 

“Do you have any new dolls you’re working on? I’d love to see it when you finish.” 

 At the time, he hadn’t received any damaged or donated dolls. But he knew at that moment, you were what his shop was missing. What he was missing. Among the shelves upon shelves of porcelain figurines he possessed, he had nothing that encapsulated what you embodied. Full of glee, full of youth, full of wonder. He needed you for his shop. For himself.

In the beginning, you kicked and screamed, swearing someone would find you and expose him for the sick bastard he was. Cursing his existence and spewing phrases and words that he was positive you didn’t mean. Getou let you vent your frustrations with no threat of punishment. He let you scream, hit, bite as much as you wanted. It worked more in his favor than it did yours. Besides, it’s not like you could run away. He had made sure of that from the start. But now…

Getou was pulled from his thoughts when he heard something. A choked cry. Your voice.

“____?” He snapped his head up with wide eyes, sure his ears were deceiving him. He looked at you in stunned silence.  Your face was wet with sadness, tears and snot steadily streaming  down your cheeks and collecting to drip off your chin. Your mouth was open as your chest rose and fell rapidly, occasional sniffles and whines leaving your lips. Getou’s eyebrows scrunched in concern, his hands instinctively coming up to wipe your face. “What’s wrong?”

He paused, gloved hand inches away from your tear stained cheek. Where his palm should have been blue, it was red. He looked down at your leg, quietly gasping at the sight. The sheets underneath you had also been stained, a consistent line of crimson seeping from the once closed wound. Your stitches had torn from the pressure, peeling back your scab and opening your wound again. That would’ve been an easy enough fix had Getou not been lost in his thoughts and applying anything but gentle care to it. 

He clicked his tongue, cursing under his breath at his negligence. He removed his gloves, tossing them somewhere on the ground and cupping your face with his hands. “I’m so sorry, my darling. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, wiping underneath your eyes with his thumbs. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You know that, right?” He looked at you fondly, but expectantly. Silently praying that after so long, you’d acknowledge him again. That you wouldn’t look at him with empty, blank eyes. 

That you’d speak to him again.

He searched your misty eyes for that sign, but was met with nothing but silent tears and quiet sniffles. Getou sighed and stood from the bed, gathering the soiled bandages and gloves to be disposed of. He made his way across the room, opening a drawer to gather more bandages to dress your wound. Various sized bandages rolled to the front, snow white fabric unraveling then neatly wrapping itself back up. Getou stood for a moment, hands placed on either side of the counter space. 

He gripped the corners tightly, the cool marble squeaking underneath his hands as he stared into the drawer. He was so close to hearing your voice. So close to that pure, unadulterated joy you possessed. And you were denying him that. Was this your way of trying to get back at him? Keeping him from the one thing he wanted most? What he so desperately needed?

Getou was a relatively patient man. He could wait for the things that were worth it. But, this? You? There was no more waiting. 

He closed the drawer and turned on his heels in your direction, taking steady strides back to your bedside. Your eyes were closed now and your breaths were steady and even. Getou’s gaze was locked on your face. Dried tears streaked your cheeks, giving you the appearance of a crying angel. Even so, you were still as beautiful as ever. He sat in his previous spot, looking down at your reopened wound. 

The opening glistened in the soft lighting, the former trail of blood drying and beginning to start the process of scabbing again. He hovered a finger over the tear, following the outline down to the blood soaked sheet. He would never hurt you. He lowered himself to your residual limb and gently kissed it, following the stitch line. He continued leaving kisses up your leg, leaving a trail of  bloody lip prints up to your thigh

Getou peeked up at you, lips still pressed to your supple skin.  You stayed still, eyes still shut as if you didn’t feel a thing he was doing. He would never hurt you. Getou opened his mouth to let his teeth graze against your skin, saliva dripping out of his mouth. He bit into it  hard enough to leave a mark, but not hard enough to really hurt. His black eyes were trained on you, ready to catch any change. 

He bit harder, spit dripping down your leg. His other hand snaked up to cup your leg, fingers sliding underneath it. His knuckles rested on the bloodied sheets as his thumb traced over your wound. He would never hurt you. Getou pressed lightly into it, his digit being met with soft meat. 

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, but remained closed. Getou frowned, digging his teeth into the meat of your thigh. He would never hurt you. A small whimper rumbled in your throat, your eyebrows scrunched together in discomfort. Getou kept biting while continuing to push his thumb into you. You were almost there. He just wanted to hear your voice. The last thing he wanted to do was..

“Pl-”

His mouth was no longer attached to your thigh and he felt a cool breeze on his thumb. You were looking at him again, eyes wide open. You looked like a frightened deer. Big eyes glittering with tears that threatened to spill with one blink. Your lip quivered as you opened your mouth. Getou sat up, watching you intently. 

Your voice barely came out above a whisper. It was shaky and breathy. “Pl…Please…stop. Hurts.” 

Getou stared silently before chuckling softly to himself. He pushed a few strands of hair out of his face, an unsettlingly soft smile spreading across his face. He inched closer to you, stopping mere inches from your face.  You looked away, eyes averted towards the ceiling to keep yourself from crying.. He gently pulled your chin back in his direction, stroking your bottom lip with his bloodied thumb before kissing you. 

“There’s my girl,” he breathed. He placed kisses along your jaw and into the crook of your neck, whispering sweet words into your skin with each one. You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes tight as he slowly ran his hands up your sides and under your gown. “Please…,” you whispered, warm tears beginning to stream down your face. Getou shushed you, placing a kiss to your wet cheek. He looked at you with the same kind and tender eyes he had when you came to visit him in his shop. The same eyes that lured you here. And you couldn’t help but sob

“You know I’ll never hurt you. I take care of all of my girls.”

© 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 hvly 2023. 𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧y.

— ⋆｡˚｡⋆ ｡˚ 𓆩𖥔𓆪 ˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ —

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 9

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn

Second to last chapter….enjoy!

Part 8

——————————————————————

Art pulled away to breathily ask ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ You resisted the urge to play with his hair to answer. ‘I didn’t think I was your type.’ Art’s face was a picture, you’d never seen him scoff before. He rubbed his face in disbelief, almost cartoonishly.

‘Why’s that so surprising?’

Art gathered himself quickly, brushing his hand over yours. ‘I thought I made it obvious.’ Oh this sweet boy, he had no idea - your turn to scoff. With your free hand you pulled Art, by the back of his neck, close to your face. ‘You should have tried harder.’ You whispered in his ear.

‘I won didn’t I?’

He didn’t wait for you to challenge him, Art’s lips were back on yours in an instant. He couldn’t get enough of you, he found himself wondering if he could ever feel as much as he felt right then and there for anyone else. I’d he’d ever feel so full of need for another human being that wasn’t you, his roommate and best friends honorary sister.

‘I want you to know…’ Art whispered in between your feverish kisses. ‘That we can stop at any time…’ Another even longer kiss. ‘I don’t expect anythin-‘ You pulled away, sporting a quizzical look due to the sizeable erection pressing against your knee. It had been there a while. ‘Would you not be devastated?’ It took all your strength not to grin as you palmed him through his shorts. ‘Completely devastated…’ he practically purred in your ear, adjusting his hips to feel more of your touch.

RING RING

You were going to fucking kill Liam.

‘Yeah?’ You answered, slightly out of breath. Just as you were about to use the classic ‘this better be an emergency’ he told you it was. He needed you to help him, he’d sprained his ankle playing too hard on an injury. No- it wasn’t a sprain he’d broken something…

As you listened to the panicked woes of your friend, Art frowned. He waited patiently for you to get off the phone and explain why on earth he had to stop what the two of you were doing for Liam. Of all people. The second you hung up he was fiddling with his watch.

‘Why did he ask you?’ It was hard to ignore the bitterness in Art’s voice but you tried. ‘You don’t drive. How are you gonna take him to the hospital?’ That was logic you just couldn’t argue with. ‘And there’s really no one at Stanford that can drive?’ The bitterness was growing wings, taking flight. What was left of the mood from earlier had quickly disappeared.

You failed to mention that Liam was in love with you, it was irrelevant to his ankle anyway. ‘I know you and Liam aren’t getting on right now but we can’t just leave him sat there stranded and in pain.’

——————————————————————

Art reversed into the priority space, sighing as you opened the door. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, that he had a distinct feeling Liam was lying and that he’d invited just you for a reason. He hoped he was wrong.

‘Y/N- and Art…’

Liam was sat on the floor of the empty gymnasium, clutching his leg looking lost. ‘I brought Art so he can drive you to the hospital!’ You yelled, rushing over to him whilst Art lagged behind.

‘Who were you playing?’

Art gestured to the empty gym, eagerly awaiting Liam’s response. He was challenging him.

‘No one, was just practising my serve.’

The two looked at each other, resembling bullies on a playground sizing each other up. You felt embarrassed for them both. ‘Art, maybe you should go drive the car to the entrance?’ Art didn’t miss the elation in Liam’s face at your suggestion but he obliged all the same. He didn’t want to watch Liam limp for half a mile, even if he did think he’d become an arse.

The gymnasium smelt like stale sweat, not a pleasant scent to be trapped with. There was a slight echo, since it was empty, that was a bit eerie for your liking. Liam was beaming as he watched you help him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked. ‘You look happy for someone in agony.’ Art’s thoughts coming out of your mouth.

‘It’s easy to be happy round you, you’re probably my favourite person.’ He was edging towards dangerous territory and Art would be back any moment. Change subject change subject! ‘We’ll stay with you at the hospital, so we can drive you home after.’ Liam’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, for support. ‘I know you said it could be broken but I think it’s just a sp-‘ and then he kissed you with lips that tasted of warm lucozade…

You leaned back so rapidly Liam almost fell to the floor. ‘Why did you do that?’ But before he could answer, Art was honking his horn. Maybe it was best he didn’t answer, you didn’t feel like talking about it.

——————————————————————

‘Right,’ Art announced, as he parked the car at the hospital. ‘Everyone out.’ You’d felt Liam’s eyes on you every moment of the journey but you’d barely spoken a word. ‘I think Y/N’s gonna Uber home.’ He suddenly announced. What?

Looking utterly confused, Art turned round in his seat to stare at the two of you. ‘What? Why?’ Liam sighed, just loud enough for you hear, as he passed you his phone. He’d called you one, he was giving you a way out. He wasn’t going to make you sit with him all night after he’d kissed you, he was misguided not cruel.

‘Okay…’ you mumbled, trying not to picture Art and Liam arguing over nothing in your absence. ‘See you at home yeah?’ Art looked at you blankly as you got out of the car. You’d text him some context later.

——————————————————————

‘Liam kissed you?’ Patrick was trying not to laugh as you filled him in. ‘And you and Art almost shagged because of my infinite wisdom in all things love related but Liam just cockblocked you?’ You nodded. ‘And then you got Art to drive the two of you all the way to the hospital and then left him there and got an Uber here?’

‘Yep…’

‘What a bitch.’

‘Me or Liam?’

‘You! But also Liam, he has…issues.’

‘Yeah…’

Patrick reassured you that you hadn’t let Liam on, which you knew already, and that Art had no reason to be annoyed at you. He was just in the middle of telling you about his equally weird night when Art arrived. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’ Patrick whispered, retreating to the kitchen to snack.

‘I’m really sor-‘

Art rushed over to hug you. Tightly. ‘Thank you.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, smelling distinctly of hospital detergent. For what? ‘For making me realise how important you are to me.’ Your heart rate was rapidly thumping, almost escaping from your chest trying to reach his. A sudden dampness hit your eyes as you hugged him back, never wanting to let go. ‘I’m still confused…’ you mumbled into his shoulder, before pulling away.

‘Liam,’ Art sighed, brushing a hair out of your face. ‘He pretty much asked me to choose between our friendship and you. I chose you.’

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn @soy-garbage @blahhucantmakeme

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 12

Word count: 2363 Warnings: none A/N: this chapter sucked all life out of me. i hope you like it.

“Ah, Thomas! Come in, come in.” Dr. Duren smiled and pointed at the chair in front of his table. “I was going to see you a little later, after you get used to the asylum a bit, but it’s probably to the better we meet so soon. You sure have grown since the last time we met!”

Dr. Duren was a frequent guest at the Bass’s house, but Tommy stopped showing up to guests two years ago - his parents thought he would ruin their image. He didn’t mind much. All the guests were always too wary of him to his face and joked about him behind his back anyway. Father called him to see Dr. Duren a couple times he’d been over, but Tommy refused every time, and eventually he ceased trying. Well, now he got his way.

“I get that a lot,” Tommy said.

“Of course, I’d rather we met in different circumstances,” Dr. Duren continued, “but God always knows what’s best for us”.

Tommy couldn’t hold back a grimace. He stopped believing in all that stuff at fourteen. That was one of the reasons he was committed, in fact.

Dr. Duren smiled condescendingly. “You may not think so now, but one day you will look back and see that it was indeed the best time and place. Please, sit.”

Tommy sat down. The chair was too low for him, and his knees stuck out too high. He tucked his legs under the chair so it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

“McKagan told me you wanted to see me.” Dr. Duren folded his hands on the table. “Do you have something to say?”

“Yeah, I-“ Tommy began, but then a sudden thought stopped him dead in his tracks. What if this – what he’d heard – was a warning?

No. He wanted to speak on the problem, and he would do it.

“I wanted to talk about the work you make patients do.”

“What about it?” Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows.

Someone breathed down Tommy’s neck. The breath was cold and smelled of rotten leaves.

“It’s…” he swallowed, “not right.”

“What’s not right?” Dr. Duren tilted his head. “The labor therapy produces incredible results. Patients spend their time and energy on something tangible, they know their labor improves their own lives, they can see the results of it. I personally believe it’s one of the best treatments for mental derangement. Benefits both patients and the asylum.”

Tommy found himself at a loss of words. What could he say to that that wouldn’t paint him as lazy and entitled?

“But patients are here to be cured. Doesn’t work take out of that? I mean, they could be doing…” Tommy waved his hand, “healing activities?”

Dr. Duren threw his head back and laughed.

“My boy,” he said, “what ‘healing activities’ do you mean? Water therapy? Art therapy? Behavioral correction? They’ve got plenty of that despite work. You haven’t been to our communal evenings yet, have you? Well, I’ll make sure you get there today. Patients play music, sing, dance, play board games. It provides a perfect opportunity for civil socializing. Patients that need extra therapies at other time of the day skip work to have them. We do not exploit them, I promise. We offer them a chance to grow and change the world around them.”

Well, this sounded damn convincing. Still, Tommy didn’t see any happiness on patients’ faces when they worked in the garden, nor enthusiasm in their movements. They looked more like serfs working on a lord’s field.

“They didn’t look very happy.”

Dr. Duren sighed. “Thomas, no insane man ever thinks he needs to be fixed. But they are, at their core, insane. Their brain is broken. Of course they don’t enjoy labor; that’s a trait of a sane, well-adjusted man.”

“Do you also think that about me?” Tommy asked straight-forwardly.

“Well,” Dr. Duren narrowed his eyes slyly, “you’re here to ask me to free you from work, after all.”

Tommy blinked in confusion. But he didn’t say that!

“How’d you know?”

“Your father gave me a pretty comprehensive overview of your character. I supposed you’d ask me for this favor.”

Tommy’s stomach sank. So his father not only shipped his son off to the asylum, he also told Dr. Duren nasty things about him. Tommy didn’t doubt a second there was no positive descriptions of him in that overview.

“And will you?...” he said quietly.

For a while Dr. Duren was silent. Steps were pacing back and forth behind the door of his office. Finally, he spoke.

“No.”

Tommy foresaw this, in a way. All this talk about usefulness of labor, of insane men not knowing what they need. He wasn’t stupid; he could see that coming. But disappointment filled his mouth with bitterness.

“You see, Thomas, your dearest father expressed only one wish to me: “Make him realise he’s not special”. By freeing you from labor I will go against his wish. I promise as time passes you will realise it’s good for you. You just can’t see it yet.”

“You’re no better than him,” Tommy spat out.

“I’ll consider that a compliment,” Dr. Duren said warmly. “Now, dear Thomas, I have other patients to attend today. We will meet soon to discuss your… condition, though. Meanwhile, try to get comfortable here. Make some friends. You’re going to need it.”

Tommy let McKagan take him away. As he walked down the corridor, his hair was being ruffled by someone’s breath right on the back of his head.

***

“You got off easy,” Mick said after Nikki quietly told him of the punishments Dr. Duren dispensed to them. “You’d go crazy in solitary. Crazier than now, I mean.”

He was restringing an old guitar that had been in the asylum since time immemorial. It had been here even before Mick, and that was saying something. It was a simple acoustic, and its neck bent farther and farther with each passing year, making it sound like shit. So far Mick managed to amend it by shoving thin cardboard stripes over the nut to raise the strings up, but it couldn’t last forever, of course. Soon he’d have to beg for a new guitar.

“I know,” Nikki said, anxiously picking at the skin by the nail of his left thumb. He had already pulled off several layers of skin, and his fingers were smeared in blood. “And Vince’s gonna go crazy too.”

Mick smiled dryly. “In this case it’s hardly possible. To go crazier, I mean.”

Nikki let out an exasperated sigh. “It is. You just don’t know it. And I do. And we gotta prevent it.”

Mick didn’t answer, pretending to be consumed with trying a knot at the end of a string.

“Well?” Nikki pushed on.

“Shitty strings,” Mick murmured, pulling the one he’d already installed. “But what else could I expect from those nurses… Probably the cheapest ones they could find.”

“Oh come on!” Nikki groaned. “I’m trying to talk to you here! About important things! Stop fussing over that old thing already!”

He spoke too loudly; several patients turned their heads to them.

“You want all the nurses to hear?” Mick shushed him, loudly playing the three strings he’d already installed. The heads slowly turned away from them.

“No.” Nikki made a deep breath. That’s right, calm the fuck down. “I know you despise the guy. But could you just entertain a thought of helping him for a bit? For me.”

“They should have put you in the solitary too,” Mick said. “So you have an opportunity to realise what a piece of shit he is.”

“You’ve just said I’d go crazy in there.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

Nikki rolled his eyes. “You’re useless.”

Mick felt a pang of guilt. A very slight pang of guilt, but nevertheless. This asshole somehow crawled into Nikki’s heart and nestled there comfortably, refusing to go away. Mick didn’t know what would it take to exorcise him out of it.

“The nurses always watch very closely that no one talks to patients in solitary. You have no chance,” Mick said.

“So talking is out of the picture,” Nikki concluded sadly. “What about writing? Could I write a note and pass it to him?”

“You could. If we had paper. And a pencil. Which we don’t have.”

“Dr. Duren totally has them in his office,” Nikki said weakly. He seemingly started to see the futility of his endeavor.

“And what are you gonna do, steal them? Really?”

“I could try…”

“…and get yourself a punishment and a lot of unnecessary questions.” Mick rubbed his forehead. “Listen. Your darling Vince has already been through it before. He’ll survive. Maybe he’ll be a little angry with you afterwards for a while. But he’ll come back to you anyway – apparently, he can’t stay away from your juicy ass for long. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But it’s my fault,” Nikki protested. “I shouldn’t have… taught him a lesson. I don’t know what Hudson did, but it must have been something bad. I feel guilty for it now.”

“Yeah, and let him keep wiping his feet on ya? Does being a doormat get you off or what?” Mick felt anger rise in his chest. Could the boy just stand up for himself and not come back crawling later for once?

“He ain’t wiping his feet on me!” Nikki almost screamed again. Mick sighed and played a short melody on the four installed strings. One of them sounded off; he pulled it a couple times and adjusted the tuner a bit. That was better.

“Yeah he does, and you thank him for it. You ain’t gotta thank people just for paying attention to you. And if they demand you do, you gotta run away as fast as you can.”

“You don’t understand nothin’,” Nikki hissed, jumped up from his chair and rushed away, slamming the door in the process.

“Sure I don’t.” Mick sighed to no one in particular. A nurse would quickly bring him back, so Mick wasn’t too worried.

He was battling the knot on the sixth string when McKagan brought Nikki inside. Water was dripping from his face and hair. The nurse probably had to spray him with cold water to cool him down a bit. McKagan led Nikki to a chair in the corner, sat him down on it, said something along the lines of “behave yourself” and retired to the entrance to watch the community evening from there. Nikki remained on his chair, sullen and bristling like a hedgehog.

The boy needed a friend or a lover that could ease his obsession with Wharton. Mick clearly wasn’t a good fit: he was old and ill and didn’t match Nikki’s destructive youthful energy. He was sure that was what attracted Nikki in Wharton: the readiness to blow up the world given a slightest opportunity. Sure, Nikki didn’t look like the type, often subdued by depression, but it could be clearly seen when he smiled – that toothy too-wide smile that betrayed his true character. He just didn’t smile often enough for others to see it.

No one in the asylum beside Wharton matched his energy. Except maybe the new lad. Sure, he was not that clever, and he still had a lot to learn about life, but there was something in him, some driving force that all other patients in the asylum had already lost. They could hit it off.

Tommy was here today, looking unusually jumpy and anxious, but left soon, not giving Mick an opportunity to talk to him. Nikki, on the other hand, was sulking in the corner the whole evening, the tunes only slightly raising his spirits, even though usually he loved them. Mick tried not to pay attention, but his thoughts kept returning to Nikki and Wharton. What could he even do besides stop Nikki from doing obviously stupid things? Nothing, really.

Nikki didn’t speak to him after the community evening, and Mick didn’t insist. The guy surely needed to unwind and think it all over. For the first time he was thankful Nikki got restrained for the night – at least he wouldn’t do something idiotic. And the head was always clearer in the morning.

His ward was filled with moonlight from the window. It lay in stripes on the floor and across walls, creating a weird, persistent feeling of unease – Mick couldn’t rely on darkness to hide in anymore. He had long been asking for curtains, since his ward was on the sunny side and the light bothered him a lot, but never got them – a safety hazard, he was told. They were probably just afraid he would somehow hang himself on them, even though he’d never shown suicidal tendencies.

Mick looked out of the window in his usual environment check. No strange lights or shadow figures – but that didn’t mean anything. They could hide very well, so well that no one but Mick knew of their existence, and they cleverly manipulated everyone around him to believe he was crazy, so no one would believe him. So Mick had to uncover their plans alone, from behind the bars of his ward or the wall separating the asylum from the rest of the world. Thankfully, these also hid him pretty well. They knew he was somewhere around here, but they couldn’t differentiate faces. They didn’t know which one of the patients Mick was, and they’ve been unsuccessfully trying to find out for the last twenty years-

Wait, no. Something was not right.

The spider web outside of Mick’s window. It was there just this morning, some poor fly having tangled itself in it. It wasn’t there now. Not a trace of it. Like someone swept it off with a broom. But Mick was on the third floor of the building.

Mick ducked under the window like he was being shot at. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The web withstood the strongest of winds on his memory. It was done on purpose. It was a threat. Or a warning.

The rest of the night Mick spent sitting on the floor next to the window, anxiously trying to keep himself out of sight.

[hazbean-hotel-imagines]

Hi! I’m here for a matchup!

I’m a bi girl who loves science, art, music, antiques, and animals! I am very outgoing and like to express my love through both actions and words, and I like partners that take romance slow. I like people who are both smart and caring, and I want someone who likes parallel play and spending time together doing even the most mundane chores. I’m a pretty patient person and I want someone who will appreciate me! And of course, I like cuddles and walks together, I like sappy romantic stuff 😅 Thank you and happy holidays!

Matchup

I pair you with…

~ Hope you have a happy holidays as well! Stay safe and warm!! :)

~ Okay! So Alastor is the definition of slow burn. I feel like putting a name on the type of relationships he has is low priority. Once he begins to gain feelings, it's slow and gradual, and even once he recognizes them he doesn't define them with words. He'll continue with whatever dynamic you two have and develop, completely content without ever actually explicitly stating it's romantic. It's the type of relationship that's obviously romantic, but he doesn't feel the need to label it, so he leaves that to you if it's something important to you and is welcome to accept whatever label you see fit.

~ Shares your interest in art, music, and antiques. Would love sharing things that are central to his time period when alive.

~ A favourite date of Alastor's would definitely be seeing musicals or live theatres. Would love seeing movies, but prefers seeing things live as opposed to on a screen.

~ Since Alastor died in the 1930s, he has a different approach to dating. Not much PDA, and affection is more often received in private.

~ Alastor's very big on expressing his love through actions as opposed to words or explicit acts or romance. Love language is definitely acts of service. Alastor remembers things you've told him only once, makes efforts to understand things you like, and will get things for you that you've mentioned or just remind him or you.

~ Overall, he's slow, old school, and a sappy romantic.

I pair you with…

~ Vaggie is someone who is very slow trusting. She would be the ultimate slow burn, but once she’s fallen for someone it’s kinda the trope person a fell first but person b fell harder? Totally feeling that here.

~ I can see Vaggie as someone who's really happy about the mundane. Doing chores, cooking side by side, even getting groceries. She's just content to be spending time with them, and doesn't mind what it is.

~ On that note, definitely a big fan of parallel play. Vaggie is big on peaceful coexistence, love language is a mix of quality time and words of affirmation.

~ I feel like your patience would be super compatible with her. Vaggie pairs well with someone who keeps a level head because of her short temper. She's often reactive and defensive, but I'd imagine you keep her grounded.

~ Sappy when it comes to romantic gestures. Loves cuddles and walks, and especially really intimate or mundane dates. Dates at home are her favourite. Would definitely surprise you with a candle lit home made dinner after a long day.

I pair you with…

~ Side note: I was going to include Stolas in this lineup, I feel like you’re really compatible, but I chose to slide him into the additional pairing instead of Husk because you preferred Hazbin. If you’d like me to pick up your matchup again and write you a pairing for Stolas as well I’d be more than happy once matchups are reopened! :)

~ I’m a sucker for introvert and extrovert tropes. You being outgoing and really open about your love for him is a really cool contrast with his laid back, often introverted approach to things.

~ It’s also kind of like the sunshine and grump trope?

~ I spoke about it in this post a long time back, but his canon dialogue style makes me go back and forth with the grump trope for Husk. Can totally see it, but he uses every dialogue to express an emotion. While he’s a grump, I can see him in a relationship being sappy and genuinely saying loving things to his partner, even if he’s a man of few words.

~ Seems like Husk is the grump to your sunshine to outsiders, but you see him more as a friendly giant.

~ On that note, Husk’s love language is words of affirmation and acts of service.

~ Husk is similar to Alastor in the sense that he doesn’t need labels to be comfortable with you. Husk would accept whatever label you’d like, but he understands his feelings, and that’s enough. He loves you and everyone knows it, so he wouldn’t rush to put a label on anything himself because he’s already comfortable with your dynamic. However, if you were to label it, he would be open to it.

Additional pairing…

Stolas

[otakusheep15]

Hello! May I request a match up for Obey Me please?

She/her pronouns

Bisexual leaning towards male

Positive traits: quiet sometimes, obedient, patient, helpful, kind-hearted, sweet, affectionate, reliable, loyal, understanding, empathetic and (apparently) smart

Negative traits: self-deprecating, almost 0 ego & self-confidence, self-doubting, anxious, worry & stress easily, bottling up emotions, slow thinker, gullible, naïve at times

Hobbies: reading, playing badminton, crafting from time to time, manga & anime

Characters I specifically do NOT want to be matched with: Mammon, Beel, Belphegor, Diavolo, Simeon, and Luke

Extra things to my traits: I probably overthink under pressure. I cry easily out of frustration, so I don’t really express my anger because I hate yelling and I would rather stay silent than hurt someone with words. I am sensitive which means I’ll also easily cry if someone I respect or admire starts yelling at me. I bottle up my emotions because I don’t want to be a burden on anyone (like my friend cried when I told her a few things… I refuse to share more with anyone else close to me T^T) It’s hard for me to believe when my friends say I’m smart because it doesn’t reflect academically (although it could be because most of them lean towards arts and humanities while I lean towards sciences). I enjoy studying chemistry! I prefer to follow rather than lead because I associate it with taking risks which I absolutely avoid at all costs if I can. Also because I’d rather follow rules and not get into trouble. I tend to be ‘invisible’ to attract the least amount of attention, because I despise being in the spotlight. I apologise too much even if something might not be my mistake, because I want to avoid conflict at all costs. When it comes to love, I tend to give my whole heart into the relationship, which would explain my loyalty. I have been feeling this laziness for a few years, but my friends believe it might be depression according to my situation.

Thank you so much, have a lovely day/night and please take care!

Hi, we are literally the same person. I relate to most of this on a personal level lol.

Anyways, I would match you with Leviathan!

I think the two of you would get along really well, as you have quite a bit in common. You're both pretty quiet, so you could just relax and enjoy each other's company without the need for conversation. Your patience and kindness would be a huge plus in the beginnings of your relationship, as Levi would be quite slow to open up. It would take him some time, but with your help, he'd get there eventually. Once he does, he's very affectionate and loving, if a bit nervous. The both of you are also very loyal to each other which is something he values a lot.

Both you and Levi also have a lot of negative traits in common. You're both very self-deprecating and anxious, but I actually think this would work out quite well. For as self-deprecating as Levi is towards himself, he would do anything within his power to hype you up. He is your biggest fan and number one support system. In the same way, I can see him starting to treat himself better, especially if he has you helping him. If you're ever stressed out, his room is a sensory safe haven. The cool lighting helps relax you immediately, and he has so many pillows and blankets to get comfy in. His room also has a lot of distractions if you need a brain break, and he's more than happy to share them with you.

Badminton is definitely not a hobby Leviathan enjoys participating in, but you better believe he is, once again, your biggest hype man. Whether you just play for fun or you're seriously competing, Levi is right there to cheer you on from the stands. If he wasn't so anxious about drawing attention, he'd probably make a sign and everything. Other than that, you both have pretty similar hobbies. Levi only really reads manga and light novels, but he's not opposed to regular books if you have any recommendations for him. He'll read anything you recommend, trust me. He also loves art, especially drawing. Craft dates would be very fun for the two of you, especially if you happen to enjoy the same mediums. Obviously, he also loves anime and manga. A lot of your time spent together is in his room watching anime. he also lends you his manga collection since he trusts you to take care of it.

And, look, you and Levi have a lot in common. I usually match him with people I think have a similar vibe. I also think he would be surprisingly good at helping you overcome a lot of your more "negative" traits. As much as Leviathan looks down on himself, he would not feel the same way about you, regardless of how similar y'all may be. If you're feeling insecure, Levi is right there to hype you up. If you need to vent or talk about something, he will listen to you without any judgement. He'll also give you honest advice if you ask for it. He would encourage you to open up to him because you make him want to open up as well. You make him better whether you realize it or not, and he wants to return the favor. Of course, he would never force you out of your comfort zone, as he knows how horrible that can feel if you aren't ready, but he wants to help you like you help him. Your relationship would be all about mutual growth and assurance, and not a day goes by where he doesn't encourage you to be your best self.

Rules for matchups

[darklordofthesimp]

Oh man, Anything is so wonderfully fucked up, I can’t wait to see where it goes! Poor birdy having to deal with all this shit, and also (slightly less so) poor konig, he also has to live with this whole thing on his conscience forever 😭 this whole thing sucks for both of them.

(Ngl I’d be pretty mad at price, I’m no expert on therapy but I don’t think pitting someone against the person who mutilated and nearly killed them RIGHT after they recover without establishing any kind of communication first is good or healthy?? PTSD central. Also just in general, who starts someone just going into training after being injured with the biggest strongest person available??? Dick move price)

This definitely isn't Price's first rodeo.

Whenever we get fucked up or we struggle with something to the point of anxiety, we get thrown back into it over and over and over until we improve. When we were doing combat training, the smallest girl got thrown at the 6'4 giant and got told to get to work.

She was literally having an anxiety attack and they were like "nope you're gonna keep fucking doing this until you stop crying".

It was wild.

But the concepts the same. Birdy has physically recovered well enough to spar and train and get back out onto the force. Remember, the idea that Königs going to beat the shit out of Birdy is all in her head. She's an unreliable narrator.

That's definitely not what training is, they can't break your bones and put you in hospital intentionally, you might cop a few blows but think about training martial arts. It's the same concept. When you go to Karate or Muay Thai training you don't walk out of there with snapped limbs maybe you're sore or you sprain a body part at worst. Iron is sharpening iron.

This fear of getting annihilated is a direct result of what happened. Birdy isn't actually in an unsafe position physically, just mentally.

And Price knows that. Because Price made damn fucking sure that König knew if he hurt Birdy, he'd fucking put him down like a dog and throw him in an unmarked hole.

It's a mental battle now, Price can't have Birdy on the field having a mental breakdown because she's paranoid about what's happening behind her. Or Missing critical shots because she heard a bird landing on the roof. She needs to feel powerful, overcome what traumatised her and be back stronger than ever.

Definitely not Price's first rodeo.

But Ghost still wants to throw hands because he thinks its stupid.

[momentsbeforemass]

What are you so worried about?

(by request, my homily from Sunday)

What are you so worried about?

My first thought, when someone asks that, is “how much time do you have?”

Because I’ve got a list. Stuff I’m worried about. Stuff I should be worried about. Stuff I forgot to be worried about - that’s going surprise me later when I remember it.

There may be different things on it, but every one of us has a list like that. We’ve got a lot to be worried about.

That’s where you and I are at, when we hear today’s Psalm,

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”

It’s a breath of fresh air – compared to everything that you and I are worried about. One that sounds great, if you’re a sheep.

I grew up grain farming with my dad. We didn’t have livestock. So, I didn’t know much about sheep.

We had some cousins who raised sheep a few miles up the road. I’d always see the sheep standing out there in the pasture when we drove past.

Watching how they moved in one big bunch, seeing how the sheep followed my cousins around, they never struck me as being very bright animals.

But seeing sheep from a car window for a few seconds as you drive past? That doesn’t give you the whole picture.

I found this out the first time I actually worked with sheep.

It turns out that what Jesus is saying in the Gospel about who sheep will follow is right.

Sheep won’t follow just anybody. In fact, they won’t follow anybody – until they get to know you.

If you go out in the pasture and start calling sheep that don’t know you, they’ll just look at you.

They don’t waste their time with people they don’t know.

Sheep are very peaceful animals.

If you get upset and start yelling at them, they’ll just walk away.  

They don’t waste their time with people who are upset and agitated.

As it turns out, sheep do what they do, because they know what they want.

And what they want is to be at peace.

And they do what they do - to get that. Because peace doesn’t happen by accident.

You and I can’t wait to have peace when our list of things to worry about runs out. Because every day, something else adds itself to the list. Truth be told, we’ll never get to the end of that list.    

That’s why if you and I want peace, we can’t wait for it to happen. Because peace doesn’t happen by accident.

We need peace right in the middle of it all. We need peace, even though we’ve still got a list.

So, what do sheep have to do with that?

For animals that want to be at peace, sheep are sitting ducks for pretty much anything that wants to get them.

They can’t run fast. They don’t kick very well. They don’t have claws or sharp teeth.

Sheep are basically defenseless. Sheep know this. That’s why they rely on the shepherd to take care of them.

And the shepherd does. The shepherd makes their peace possible.

When a storm’s coming in, the sheep will follow the shepherd to shelter.

When they hear wolves or coyotes, the sheep know the shepherd will fight their battles.

That is what the sheep do. What the sheep don’t do - is worry. No sheep has ever worried and “what-iffed” themselves into a sleepless night.

Because they know that as long as they’re with the shepherd, everything will be fine.

That’s what the 23rd Psalm is telling us – “yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”

That’s what Jesus is telling us in today’s Gospel. Making it clear that there is no limit to what the Good Shepherd will do to protect His sheep.

If you and I want peace, we need to be like sheep.

As much as we may not like to admit it, there’s not much that you and I can do to stop most of what wants to be on our list of things to worry about.

And even when we can stop some of those things, you and I can’t stop everything. As hard as we try, there will always be something that finds its way onto that list.

Which is why you and I need to be like sheep.

Don’t waste your time thinking about your list of things to worry about.

Instead, think about the Good Shepherd who is watching over you. And stay in peace.

The God who has always loved you, from before you were born, is guiding you and protecting you. Even now.

That doesn’t mean that life will become magically trouble-free and nothing bad will ever happen, if you don’t focus on all the reasons to worry.

We all know from experience that sometimes the only way out is through.

But instead of looking at everything that’s on the list, instead of focusing on the reasons to worry in life, look to God.

The Good Shepherd who makes our peace possible.

When the storms come in, be like sheep.

When you hear wolves and coyotes, be like sheep.

As long as you’re with the Shepherd, everything will be fine.

This is the lesson from the sheep.

Stay in peace. Trust the Good Shepherd. Be like sheep.

Sunday’s Readings

[omegaremix]

Fourth Dimension Records, 2024.

Around the time I made an order to Artoffact, another label posted their sale on industrial social media. Fourth Dimension was having a sale on their own titles. Buy them in pairs for a low price; quantities are limited. I was curious as to what they offered; a short list but I found plenty to pick from. I had nothing of Broken Flag. No Ramleh, No JFK, no Kleistwahr, nothing. I have some familarity with Broken Flag because of its connections to Whitehouse and then delved into their material through on-and-off member Philip Best.

As with Artoffact, once I seen Fourth Dimension post their sale, I glossed over their list, made a list of what I want, and sent that payment without a second thought. Order confirmed. I noticed that there was no estimated date of arrival, but trusted that my goods would be here shortly.

I heard nothing about my order. So, I sent out an e-mail to Fourth Dimension just to see what’s up. One of their label-runners was on vacation and wouldn’t be back at home base in a few days. No problem. I can wait and respect this man’s time. I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, and even thought this was a scam operation. Not so. I e-mailed him again and was told it’s been already sent it out, he could be wrong. If not, he would. Ahhh! It’s on the way.

What a coincidence that things arrive three days after e-mailing the labels as to where the fuck my package is. My six year-old nephew comes dowstairs to deliver it to me. It…feels kind of light? I open the package up and…it’s not what I ordered? Instead of eight CDs, it’s a fresh new unopened triple-vinyl copy of Hunting Lodge’s three-album compilation. I’m stunned.

Did Fourth Dimension pull an accidental switcheroo and mail my package to someone else? I figured that someone would receive mine and kindly return it to the label, said no European ever. Industrial and noise afficionados who know what these bands are worth would never hand them back. They’d hush-hush and keep it. What would any label do? Track them down, show up at their doorstep, and arrest them? That reminded me when I purchased some titles from the Subconscious ‘From The Vault’ series and cEvin Key sent out instead Tear Garden’s Eye Spy With My Little Eye. I let cEvin know I’d mail it back to him and he kindly obliged. I couldn’t keep it. It’s cEvin. Of Skinny Puppy. I wouldn’t live with myself if I did him dirty.

That’s what I offered to Fourth Dimension. Return it to the label so that someone else can enjoy the Hunting Lodge album. No need to, Fourth Dimension said. Keep it, and we’ll send you the right order. Within a few days, I have in my hands seven Broken Flag albums and one from Justin Broadrock to make it eight. At least I can do simple math. It’s becoming a lost art from where I’m from, so I hear.

You see, you need to realize that these are independent / underground labels without much staffing. Some may be volunteers. I lay off and let them take their time correcting orders and fix mistakes. It’s human. It happens. I’m nice enough to say “something’s wrong here, let’s sort it out.” I’m not some selfish demanding c*nt (hi, Philip!) who expects everything done perfectly and right now. I have respect for these labels. What’s the point of having such an entitled attitude? It’s not what these labels are about. After so many years and personal experiences, it makes you. You appreciate the artists and the labels. You appreciate the aesthetic and artistic taste of the world they create, build upon, and live in. That’s what called having love for the culture. It’s all I have for it.

Final: I Am the Dirt Under Your Fingernails

JFK: Weapon Design

JFK: Nganga

JFK: Avalanche Zone

Kleistwahr: In the Reign of Dying Embers

Kleistwahr: Acceptance Is Not Respect

Kleistwahr: Common Values

Kleistwahr: Don’t Let Go

[nerves-nebula]

Zag on them bitches, never let them know your next move- TIME TO WRITE TRAUMA AGAIN

——

It was Donnie’s turn to do dishes. Raph had cooked them some really nice veggies with some weird sauce Casey had brought them that had been absolutely delicious. The texture was a little weird, so smooth versus the crunchiness of the vegetables, but the taste had been great. Even Splinter hadn’t found anything to gripe about when he grabbed his helping.

However, now that the food was eaten and in his stomach, his tongue was making its dislike of the texture known. He hated that he was so picky about food, he wished he could just subsist on liquids. A nice flavorless juice full of all the calories and vitamins he needed without any of the horrible feelings that came with things touching his tongue.

“Dumbass, you’ve been scrubbing the same dish for five minutes.” Leo’s snarky voice didn’t even manage to cut through the cloud of discomfort, only amplifying it.

“There was a stain.” He lied.

“Sure there was. Can you fuckin’ stay on Earth for long enough to talk?”

He frowned, looking Leo’s way. He took in his body language, the cock of his hip and the way he crossed his arms right over his chest.

Leo was in a bad mood.

“C-can’t you bother s-someone else?” Donnie huffed, setting aside the washed dish to grab another, “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what? Coming up with a new way to disappoint your family?” Leo laughed, incredulous and mean, “Thinking of some new dumb robot that’ll inevitably go haywire and explode in your face? Making a new plan to get yourself kidnapped again?”

Donnie didn’t answer, just set another cleaned plate aside to dry.

“Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right.” Leo leaned in closer, “I should start up a bingo sheet of ways you manage to fuck up. See if I can manage to fill the whole board before a month is up. Free space would obviously just be ‘Sucks at Ninjutsu’.”

His tongue felt like it wanted to crawl out of his mouth. He could still feel the bristles of broccoli in his throat, trying to gag him. Carrots that were just too over cooked, feeling almost slimy in the new sauce.

“What other spaces could there be?” Leo mused, “Blowing up another dumb invention.” He counted on his fingers, “Refusing to eat. Never fucking talking. Getting kidnapped, of course. Screwing with mystic shit you were told to leave alone.”

His mouth was simultaneously too wet and too dry. He set the last plate aside and started the quick task of cleaning their utensils. These were easy. He could get this done and just leave.

“Saying something is bad when there’s literally nothing wrong with it.” Leo was still. Fucking. Going. “Getting sick again. Breaking your dumb glasses. I’d say disappointing Dad, but there’s so many ways you manage to do that that I’d have to split it into multiple spots!”

Spoons were easy. A quick scrub with a rag and they could be set aside.

His throat caught and he had to pause to stop himself from gagging.

“Oh, how about managing to ruin some of Mikey’s art with your dumb experiments and pissing him off? That’s a good one! Not common, it’ll be hard to tick that box off, but man when you piss off Mikey you really make sure to go all out!”

Forks. Finish the forks. Get the gunk out from between the tines and set them aside.

Fuck, he got wet food on his fingers and now he could feel the slimy texture over his palms, mixing with the soapy water in a textural nightmare.

“I could make two separate boxes for you breaking our plumbing and our entertainment systems with your idiotic upgrades and repairs.”

Why wouldn’t Leo ever just shut up? His stupid tongue always flapping away like he was paid per word that fell from his stupid lips. It wasn’t good enough for him to embarrass them constantly in front of Splinter, he had to come and individually harass them?

Forks were done. Last thing was the veggie knife.

He could take it and use it to cut out Leo’s tongue.

His eyes went wide as he stared at his hands. He could so easily envision it, grasping the knife and just quickly shoving it into his brother’s mouth. He didn’t need to be stronger than Leo, just had to surprise him. He would never expect it, he was vulnerable. Just wait until he opened his mouth to laugh at his own cruel jokes and slam the blade into his open maw. If he was lucky, the damage would be bad enough that he’d completely lose the ability to speak.

He quickly tossed the knife onto the drying rack and drained the sink.

“Man you’re such a space case.” Leo rolled his eyes again, pushing off the counter to start walking out of the kitchen, “Maybe I’ll go borrow some art supplies from Mikey to make my bingo cards.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Donnie with the vision of him laying on the ground, mouth bloodied and fear in his eyes.

The bad texture in his mouth was gone.

——

Tee hee

-Monster Anon

Where did you find this scene of my brother harassing me- the way I’ve imagined putting knives in his suitcase so he’d stab himself when he goes to unpack it. The way I’ve imagined bashing his head in while he’s talking to me <3

I’ve never experienced this kind of ghost-texture issues. Once it’s down that’s usually it for me. Though the lingering tastes can be excruciating.

Anyway I loved reading this and I’m going to eat it <<33