#took me about another week for the backtrack and i still don't get used to the new console or the equalization

[zorrasucia]

Teach Me Tonight - Part 7

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] Part 7: [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (3k)

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Angry Sex, Nightmares, Domesticity, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

Glimpses of every day life and sharing an apartment with Carmy.

"I'm sorry, okay? I am! I won't use your ingredients without asking- just- please calm the fuck down!"

Your small argument from closing time had escalated on the way home to the point where you were screaming at each other by the time you slammed the apartment door behind you and followed Carmy to the bedroom. You had fought before, of course you had. But this was probably the worst one so far.

Carmy stood on the opposite corner of the room, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

"Do you know how fucking expensive imported black garlic is?"

"I don't, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me," you spat, petty, the whole sentence leaving a bitter taste inside your mouth. You backtracked."I'm sorry. I'll pay for it, okay?" you tried to appease him even as your blood was boiling. "Listen, when I moved in, I was ready to make some compromises. I downsized my closet, I sold some furniture-"

"I didn't ask you to do any of that," Carmy interrupted you.

"Carm," you gave him a stern look. "I'm only saying that you could be more understanding about shit like this. We share the fridge and the pantry. I'm sorry I assumed I could use the stuff inside without asking, it will not happen again," you repeated, then inhaled deeply. "Just- I can't help feeling this isn't about that."

Carmy looked red in the face, angry like you had only seen him inside the kitchen, pacing and flexing his fingers. You couldn't believe he was actually losing his shit so severely over a steak and some garlic - even if it was a super expensive steak and black garlic.

He looked at the ceiling. "It is about you touching my shit without asking. It is about you leaving your things on the kitchen table when I need it to work-" he clenched his jaw. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing where anything is in my own fucking apartment!"

You had organized the closet to fit your stuff, and  put Carmy's vintage denim and your bigger dresses in storage. You still had to get a desk for your sewing machine and work stuff, in the meantime it had stayed on the kitchen table, which, in your defense, had remained unused for most of your stay.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked in exasperation. "I've been living here for three weeks! You could have said something instead of bottling it up until it was-" you gestured vaguely in his direction, "whatever this is!"

"I like you being here, I didn't want to scare you off!" Carmy groaned.

"Carm, did you think I would leave if we didn't agree on where the shirts are supposed to go?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Dunno!"

"You can tell me things, Carm!" you crossed the room until he was close enough to touch. His eyes looked like the sky before a storm. "You can tell me anything."

"Then why are you so fucking mad?" he said defiantly.

"Because I don't like when you yell at me like I'm just another chef in your fucking kitchen," you said, it was something you had been keeping quiet since your fight started. "I'm not getting paid to put up with this shit."

It struck Carmy completely quiet. And you regretted it the moment it left your lips. You had almost found some middle ground and you had trampled all over it. He took a step closer and stared at you, his eyes dark and angry, the space between you felt charged.

Before you knew what was going on, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you roughly, biting on your lips, mouth wide open. You pressed on his chest with your hands - you were still too mad at him. But his hands were strong and his tongue was relentless and you could feel yourself getting wet from the mixture of anger and lust - and who knew those two emotions were so close to each other?

"Fuck, I can stop," he said, barely separating his lips from yours, breathing hard. "You want that?"

You pulled on his shirt, bringing him towards you, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Then, using that same grasp, you moved him to the edge of the bed and pushed him hard, his curls bouncing as he fell on his back.

"I want you to fucking apologize, Carmen," you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. You leaned over and trapped his wrists with your hands, above his head. Even putting all your strength into it, he could wiggle himself free at any moment, but he didn't; he stayed down and looked at you hungrily.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little too cocky for your taste, a smirk barely hidden on the side of his face.

You ground your hips against his, feeling his cock harden underneath you. He rolled his eyes and arched his neck. He looked beautiful, like a marble statue.

"What was that?" you asked, stopping your movement abruptly and getting close to his face.

He whined. "I'm sorry," and it sounded more truthful this time.

"Mhmm, that's more like it."

You kept holding both of Carmy's wrists with one hand, while the other moved downward, going underneath his shirt and playing with his nipple, massaging and pinching gently until he closed his eyes and hummed in bliss. Then you stopped.

"Fuck you," he said, letting out some leftover venom from your fight. 

You smirked - why was this so hot?

You got your answer immediately after, when Carmy got free and turned you over, fast and aggressive, like he rarely was in the bedroom. He caged you with his arms and legs, all taut muscle and shaking breaths.

"What about you?" he said, his voice low.

"What about me?" you tilted your head. "I apologized like ten times, Carm. And I meant it."

"You said some fucked up things just now," his breath tickled your face as he studied you from every angle, like he was a wild animal and you were his prey.

"I did," you admitted. You arched your neck, trying to get close and... What? Kiss him? Bite him? You weren't sure. He put one hand on your throat, not quite a caress, closing his tattooed fingers around it. You squeezed your thighs together, blood flowing with need. "I meant some of that too."

"Which part?"

"That I don't like when you yell at me," you said honestly, the moment a little cheapened with how horny you sounded.

"That all?" Carmy's voice had turned hoarse from screaming and you wished you didn't find it so attractive.

"Yeah," you exhaled.

"Good," he said dryly and got up, freeing you, but you remained immobile.

Suddenly, he yanked hard on your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare in seconds.

"Fuck, Carmy."

You hated how needy you sounded, how wrecked you felt as he licked his hand and finally put his fingers inside you, how good he was at making you crumble... You let out a pleading and pathetic sound as he touched your clit roughly and finger fucked you a little too hard.

Then, he took his fingers out without a warning, leaving you empty and out of breath; his hands ghosted the insides of your thighs. You grabbed at his wrist, begging to be touched again. Carmy climbed on the bed instead, hovering above you, kissing you ferociously.

"Eager?" he teased when you started raising your hips to rub on his jeans.

"Impatient," you replied, trying to wind him up.

It worked - his eyes darkened again.

"Hands above your head," he ordered and you obeyed. He took your shirt off carelessly, your bra was almost spilling out with how forceful he was being but he didn't bother taking it off. The whole thing was angry, urgent, and so fucking hot. Carmy was undoing his belt and you used the pause to scoot backwards, just enough to reach your bedside table.

"Hurry the fuck up!" You threw a condom at him, hitting him square on the face.

Carmy gave you a look that was half exasperation, half amused lust. He unbuttoned his jeans just enough to take his cock out, then threw the empty wrapper back at you. He grabbed your legs and dragged you closer, forcefully, the duvet wrinkling underneath you.

"I swear I'm gonna-"

You didn't let him finish. You fisted the collar of his t-shirt and brought him down to kiss, biting on his lower lip, then soothing with your tongue. You opened your legs wide and tugged at the belt loops of his jeans - there was something arousing about him being almost completely clothed and you being almost naked.

"Fuck me, please, fuck me," you begged into his mouth, way past any sense of pride you had at the beginning of the fight. Carmy wasn't any better, rushing to obey the moment you said it.

"Fucking need it," he groaned as he entered you. It wasn't clear if he was talking about you or him - not that you had time to think about it before he started pounding into you. You felt every inch of Carmy's cock as it went in and out.

"So fucking good," you rasped to the side of his face. It spurred him on and made him go faster and harder - your moans got louder and louder. He covered your mouth with his hand.

"The fucking mouth on you," he mumbled low. You clenched your pussy in retaliation and watched as he rolled his eyes and lost his rhythm. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me."

You ran your hands under his shirt, tracing the contour of his muscles, feeling them quiver and strain as Carmy tried his damnedest to keep going, one hand on the mattress and the other keeping you quiet. Part of you smiled in satisfaction knowing he was getting tired and wouldn't last.

"Shit. Fuck me," he whined and stopped for a moment, sweating and panting. He finally uncovered your mouth, conceding defeat.

"Want me to take over?" you asked with a chuckle.

Carmy sighed and fell on the mattress beside you. "Still mad at you," he said, the sound pitiful with how hard he was breathing.

"Good to know," you climbed on top of him, straddling, lowering yourself on his cock, making him arch his back with pleasure. "I'm still mad too."

You rode him mercilessly, your hips slamming against his, hands on his chest, his eyes marveling at the bounce of your breasts. You took him right to the edge and left him hanging, the veins of his neck bulging as he groaned in frustration.

You clicked your tongue, swaying gently. "Not coming until I do."

"Yeah?" he arched his eyebrows, taking the challenge for what it was.

His hand moved from gripping your hip to where your bodies connected, his thumb finding your clit and caressing it. Your legs shook involuntarily, a spark going through you.

He grinned.

"Oh, fuck you," you sighed, your neck arched, looking at the ceiling while you bounced on his cock. He knew just what he was doing - making you tremble and moan with every gentle touch.

"Come on," he urged you, meeting your thrusts, fucking into you, hitting your G spot almost by mistake.

"Fuck," you gasped, biting your lip to stop from screaming.

You rode him much faster, something desperate and feral taking over you. Carmy's eyes widened when your walls started fluttering around his cock.

"Are you-? Can I-?" he asked in a choked out voice.

"Yes, yes," you managed to say, squeezing the wrist of the hand that was touching your clit so deliciously as your orgasm started taking over every one of your senses. "Yes, Carmy."

He tensed underneath you, flushed all over, eyes closed, and his lips forming a beautiful 'O'. You stared, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.

He looked up at you, soft, grateful, a smile curling his lips.

"C'mere," he beckoned you downwards, meeting you with relieved kisses, breathy laughter filling the space between you. He caressed your back, tugging on your bra straps until you were somewhat covered again. The tenderness of the gesture warmed you all over.

"You okay?" Carmy asked and you nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. A pause. "Hey. I am sorry. I was angry and-"

"I know," you fixed his hair, all sweaty and sticking on his forehead. "I'm sorry too."

He kissed your shoulder lovingly.

"I like you being here," he said. "I just- I need time to figure it out. That okay?"

"Yeah," you traced the line of his nose with your finger. "We'll figure it out together, baby."

You kissed him sweetly and he rolled you over to your side.

"I'll go to the thrift store tomorrow," you said, cupping his face. "Buy a desk and shit."

Carmy smiled. "I'll fix the pantry. Put labels on my shit. Make room for your things."

"I think that's the most romantic thing you've said to me," you joked, giggling when he tickled your sides.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He laughed with you, leaving kisses on your face and throat.

~

You woke up to the sound of Carmy talking in his sleep. Most of it was gibberish, quiet mumbles as he thrashed on the bed, the one word you could make out was 'Mikey' - over and over. He winced and let out a pained sound. You got closer and held him, your arm across his chest.

You knew he had nightmares, you'd been there for a couple of them, but sleeping every night with him meant you saw much more of it. It broke your heart how many you had missed, how bad he hurt...

"It's okay, Carmy," you soothed softly. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."

He woke up with a startle, breathing fast.

"Fuck, sorry," he sat up and ran his hands over his face. "Bad dream."

"I know," you waited for him to settle, giving him space.

After a while, he laid back next to you. You moved slowly, gently, touching the side of his face and caressing his hair, calming him down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh," Carmy looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, "there was a fire. Just so much smoke," he cleared his throat. "And, uh, Mike was there." There was a long pause. "Did I ever tell you he planned to set the restaurant on fire?"

"What?" you froze.

He hummed. "To cash the insurance money, you know," he reached for your free hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing them close to his chest; his heart was pounding.

"I'm sorry, Carm," you waited for him to say something but he stayed silent, vacant. "It feels so weird that I never met him."

"Probably for the better, to be honest," he said dryly. There was something dark about the way he said it.

"Hey," you squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. "What'd you like about him?"

"About Mike?" he said looking at you. "Uh- He was warm. He told the best stories, took care of Nat and me, gave the best hugs... A real big brother, you know?"

You nodded.

"Started getting tattoos because of him," he said, flexing his hands to show the ink on them. "He was so cool, and I wanted to be that."

"I think you're pretty cool," you said sweetly, kissing his knuckles.

"Thanks," he said through a sad smile. "Richie says he was all wrong by the end of it..."

"Wrong how?"

"He wasn't warm anymore, he was, uh, like a fryer fire, I guess. His stories didn't make sense. Kept forgetting shit. A mess, you know?"

"Maybe that's why he pushed you away," you said softly. You knew Carmy felt guilty for his time in New York. "He wanted you to remember him like he was before."

"Maybe," he conceded, looking up at the ceiling.

You stayed like that for a while, caressing his arm, tracing lines on his skin.

"Would you-" he said, then stopped.

You turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Would you hold me?" Carmy asked, his blue eyes open and vulnerable.

"Of course," you smiled and shifted on the bed to spoon him, his back to your chest, your arms around him, leaving gentle kisses on his shoulder blade. You could feel his heartbeat settle as he went back to sleep.

"Love you, Carm," you said right before you drifted off.

~

You woke up to the feeling of Carmy kissing your face softly. You hummed, content. When you opened your eyes, the bright light of late morning was all over your bedroom.

"Didn't hear you coming in last night," you said, your voice raspy with sleep.

"Got in late. Bad day," he raised his hand to touch your hair, staring at the way it caught the light. "Nat forced me to take today off."

"That bad?" you asked, a little concerned.

Carmy moved his fingers to the worry lines on your face, soothing.

"Not really. Someone talked about work life balance in her last Al-family meeting and she's all about that shit right now," he smiled. You loved to see how he looked soft with sleep, relaxed for a little while.

"Have I told you I really like her?"

"You might have," he said playfully, then leaned over to kiss you. It was a gentle thing, his lips lazy on yours and his body flushed as he hugged you.

You took his shirt off, not out of lust, just wanting to get more warmth from his skin on yours. You slowly started kissing his tattoos. You liked the ones on his arms and hands; they were familiar, whenever you thought of Carmy it was the image you conjured. But you loved his other tattoos, the ones nobody else saw, the secrets he kept and only shared with you. You left kisses on his shoulder and his chest, running your fingers on the ink on his ribs and right above his hip bone.

"I've missed you, Carm," you confessed.

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. You had barely seen each other, mostly just sleeping on the same bed, saying good night and good morning before each of you left for work.

"Missed you too," he replied.

His hands roamed your body, tugging gently at the fabric of your sleep shirt, helping you out of it, all while kissing you. You melted in his arms, pliant as he rolled you over and started leaving pecks on your skin.

"Carmy," you sighed. His lips left imprints on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and your chest. He stayed there, kissing the top of your breasts, the side, the valley between them, and your nipples. Your pulse was racing and you wondered whether he could feel it with his mouth.

"You're so soft," he said, his exhale giving you goosebumps. "Smell so nice."

"You smell nice too, baby," you giggled. Carmy's hair still had a lavender-like scent from his night shower.

"Mmm..."

He kept kissing. Your belly, your hip, the wrinkle that formed between your mound and your thigh. There was something so like devotion in the way that he moved; it wasn't about filling some selfish need to get his dick wet, he wanted you to feel loved.

"C’mere," you called him back up, to kiss his lips fervently, your hands buried in his hair. When you parted, he smiled, his eyes were still sleepy. He looked so comfortable, so soft...

Your hand traced again that tattoo on his hip, then moved downward, to the hair on his navel, and lower, touching him over his boxers. He was half hard, his nose buried in your neck. When he groaned, his chest rumbled against yours.

"So nice," he said. "’m too fucking tired to fuck you like you deserve, though."

Your free hand caressed the back of Carmy's neck, holding him closer.

"Just want you to relax, make you feel good," you whispered, moving the hand on his cock back and forth, slow, loving.

He moaned, then shifted a little on the bed. You didn't realize why he was moving until his hand snaked its way inside your shorts.

"Oh," you squirmed a little at the feeling of his fingers.

"Too cold?" Carmy asked.

"No, it's okay," you leaned to kiss him. "It's okay," you repeated.

You kept on touching and kissing, everything in that sort of clumsy haze, one of your legs over his. You needed this: being with him without the rush of being late, no urgency, no fucking as fast as you could before Carmy had to run to the restaurant. You had all the time in the world - you could count the freckles on his face and stare at the blue in his eyes as he mumbled sweet nothings into the morning air.

His free hand touched your wrist, guiding it to the head of his cock, the sluggish rhythm you had set just enough to make him roll his eyes and kiss you hard, drowning a whine against your lips as he released.

"Love you so much," Carmy mumbled.

You kissed the side of his face. "I love you, I love you," your voice came out choked and high.

Without you noticing, the constant massaging between your folds had built up too. You came with a long exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, lightly squeezing his side.

"Wanna stay here forever," he said after a while of just looking at you and caressing your back.

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," you replied tiredly.

"I'd like that."

~

[Deleted Scene]

[Part 8]

~

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

[upthewitchypunx]

I love that my body naturally craves fruit that is in season. I have been wanting pineapple and I checked and pineapple is in season. Went to the grocery store and found a perfectly ripe pineapple for half off, $1.50 for a whole pineapple! Took it home, cut it up ,and used the rind and core to make tecpache with a Thai pepper tossed in. yum!

Last night my friend took me to a mushroom growing workshop that she got free tickets to. The person leading the workshop asked what our relationship to mushroom is on a scale of 1-10. he said he was an 8, because he knew people who were 10s. Which probably scared all of us and and most people said they were 1s or 2s. I've usually stayed away from fancy mushroom because it seems like another expensive taste I did not need to have. I've stuck more to fermenting (sourdough, sauerkraut, half sour pickles, fermented hot sauces, beer, wine, cider) so this was a fun workshop to learn more how to do it myself.

The guy leading it was very very into mushrooms but not particularly organized and kept having to backtrack to explain things. That's my nightmare of teaching and why I don't. i worry about my organizational skill not meshing with the people I'm teaching and then getting really frustrated, which never actually happens, when I'm teaching informally it goes well whether it is zines or witchcraft or plants or whatever. I just freak out when people want to pay for my disorganized thoughts. Anyway, enough about me.

We pasteurized straw and packed it into buckets with oyster mushroom inoculated grains. Now I have a bucket of fungus I'm waiting to pin and sprout and whatever. He also just brought a bucket of woodchips from his yard with king stropharia (wine cap) mushrooms and just told us to take a bag home and toss in in your garden, don't eat them for more than 2 days in a row, and when you have too many, give them away to people. The wine caps seem more my speed, we'll see how it goes.

I have so many plants I want to put outside! It's still too cold at night and I'm very annoyed about it. the tomatoes in my living room are starting to put out flowers. I think I can hold off for another week.

[conjuremanj]

Hoodoo A Reglion Or Not.

If we look at Hoodoo practice in is self. There no reason to be mixing Egyptian spirits or gods, wiccan Vodou loa or even Orishas in it. If you are or want to practice those others like myself I do voodoo, do them separately, have one space for one practice have another space for your other and a space your just your workings.

But Hoodoo is a African region that has involved from the originals & you can backtrack the Hoodoo lineage and find they are link with Vodou and Palo Mayombe, and some Orishas.

To learn what is real, you can find real teachers but pls stay off and don't listen to these sites like Facebook, Riddit. These site are not there to teach you but to confuse you.

Understand hoodoo is about balance, what we do in our workings is to balance thing back out.

What's One Of The Main Reasons People Get To Hoodoo: It attracts people to a new way of spirituality. An to others they just thought about being initiated into African religion until they realizes it's going to cost them in the thousands and then think. "Man I'm not going to pay all that money.

Then they think "Well I can do Hoodoo. I can find a book and a course online, I don't have to pay a lot of money and I'll be a pro afterwards only in a few weeks.

NO,NO,NO,NO,NO.

HOW IS HOODOO A RELIGION?

Well let's break it down. Vodou is a religion, Palo Mayombe, Santeria, all the other Orisha practices are religions. So why not Hoodoo, That is the question.

See people the mainstream, the marketeers that sell you stuff are telling you that Hoodoo is not a religion. They took out that world religion and added tradition. So they can have you believe what they need you to believe so they can sell you the crap and call it hoodoo.

But I'm Here To Let You Know Hoodoo Is A Reglion It Is.

Hoodoo is a Africanized form of Christianity. BOOM 🤯 💥

Let's take this further. Look at Catholics, the Protestants, the Baptist, Pentecostal, Methodist, all of these are religions correct. But each one of them may do some things differently. Like let's say baptisms some submerge your whole body in water, another just dunk your head, then another only use a little holy water on the forehead. But there still religions, there all a form of Christianty, they all believe in God, and teaches about God.

So the answer is Yes it is a religion.. If you use the bible as we do in hoodoo, If we use bible passages, If we pray to God, If we believe in a hight power, If we speak and honor to our ansestors, then tell me how it is not a religion.

Cool painting of what I see as a African get-together and church service.

Churches In Hoodoo: Black churches basically are rooted/established in conjure and supernatural beliefs. Most text state during and right after slavery preachers, ministers were very spiritual had no issue with using "conjure" and/or forms of rootwork in their Ministry - because they used the Bible as their foundation. And never saw an issue with honoring their ancestors. They may or may not have had altars but they did do workings.

But conjure is still in the Black Churches today - now it may be hidden or not talked about as openly due to a lot of the stereotypes that thinks it's bad. But when you need some things done believe me those old ladies know who to go too. Rootworkers are very much still around today. But not that many authentic ones anymore tho.

One of the problems I think is that the mainstream marketeers some of the these white people are trying to take the black church out of Hoodoo, You Can Not, It's much of a part of it as the bible is. When you go to a black church there are some Root Workers who are Pastors & Reverends. It's apart of who we are and what still do. In churches the pastor might have you bring olive oil to anoint you or even give you oil and a prayer to take home with you. Now you may not have thought about it at the time but as adults with knowing and understanding what hoodoo is you realize that what there are doing is Hoodoo.

Even on the plantations the root workers are often leading service. There dancing, praying to God, remembering there ansestors, That's church, That's there own stye of church service.

How do you know if your practicing real Hoodoo? One thing you have to understand is that Hoodoo has become a Title for anyone who's practicing a form of folk Magic. Real hoodoo is a Africanized reglion that was involved in the south. Just like other sub religions some thing are different within your community but the basics are all the same.

They're are many forms of root work but we're not all going to do them the same way.

There are Curanderismo and Mexican traditional folk healing. Appalachian mountains Granny Magic, Native American Shamanism or Folk magic. They all do a form of root work or conjuring but it's not hoodoo.

Hope you enjoyed this post and have a new understanding on this religion 😄

[fight-the-corn]

TCSFV SBI x reader

The next time I saw him, I really didn't know why he was there. In my room. Again. This time, I'd had another tough night. It wasn't as bad as some of the other nights. I was still healing from a few days ago - I think I sprained my wrist when I tried to catch myself after a particularly bad push. A previous black eye was in the process of healing, which unfortunately meant I had greenish yellow bruising around my eye. I looked like shit, and I knew it. Not a problem though, because nobody would be seeing me, or so I thought.

I walked into my bedroom, and immediately saw the Blade in my bed, leaning against the headboard, sitting on top of the covers. I gasp and do a double take from surprise, then realized it was only him.

"Another hero fight?"

"Nope."

His response took me by surprise. Why would he come here of his own accord? After a moment of processing, I asked him.

He looked up. "Wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Looked into you. You're pretty interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean? Both of those statements - why would you look into me and what makes me interesting? "

He just looked at me. The mask was not only unsettling, it also made reading his expressions very hard.

"What?"

"Are you joking or do you seriously want an answer? "

"Of course I want an answer, why else would I ask?"

"Well, I was in your house a week ago. Wanted to make sure you didn't report anything. Also wanted to check out your background so there wasn't just some rando who saw me doing weird stuff. "

"Did I pass?"

"Yep."

"Ok." There's an awkward pause for a second.

"If I passed, why did you come back?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I still owe you that favor, don't I? Wanted to see if you'd thought about it at all."

"Oh. No, I haven't. Do I have a deadline? "

"Nah. Favors last forever, until they're repaid. We just don't like owing people favors. "

"That's understandable. Can I ask, what do people use favors for, usually? I just don't know what to do with it. "

He looked at me with a knowing look. "It's not uncommon for people to use their favors to get out of situations that are less than ideal. Whether that be setting up a new life with fake documents and a place to live, a little extra cash, or taking care of some people, you understand?"

His comment reminded me of the company I was in at the moment. A person who was a dangerous villain, one who killed. It also reminded me that he saw my injuries. I unconsciously reached up and touched my face, feeling a tender part of my jaw and ghosting my fingers over my eye.

I realized he was waiting for an answer. "Um, thank you, I'll keep that in mind, but I don't think I'm gonna use my favor yet."

He doesn't respond, just nods.

"One more question though, sorry."

"Hm."

"Um, if I decide to use a favor, how would I get in touch with you to ask?"

He's quiet and unmoving for a second. I start to backtrack, worried I made a mistake asking. "I mean, it's fine if there's not a way, don't worry about it..."

He replies "No, there's a way. I'll give you the phone number for the Syndicate. Share it with anyone, and you're dead. It doesn't matter who picks up, just ask for me and you'll get through. "

I nod. "Thank you."

He gets up off the bed. "Look kid. I'm glad we got that sorted, but seriously, don't let them treat you like this. " He motions to your face, I'm all of its bruises glory. "Have some self respect." Before I can respond , he's out the window.

[the-firebird69]

There is a huge hub of regarding what we were posting while we were speaking. And a lot of you people were saying and Lily said it he said This guy does not have any of the facts correct they're all wrong and finding the income on strong and then our sons has yes he did and the president's job is a thinking game and she backtracked a little and thought of what he was doing and she said that guy is right and said a few things they say he couldn't go that far because he had to hold back because of Trump and he couldn't say the whole thing and it wasn't coming out and he looked like he was yelling and it's true so now they have a goal exposed that he doesn't care who who wins on paper and and he plans to threaten locally so we are going we are going to resist this idiot and we are going to stop him and we are going to make him capitulate and he's gonna be pushed out very soon nobody wants to see him in there he also have a couple of other comments to make about tonight.

- This guy Trump is a brute he's a pushy bully he's drinking our sons moms blood as her in crouchenics somewhere no suspended animation is torturing her while she's there picking on her and she can hear it and is ruining her day and Camilla is going to try and find her and they shut Arizona down and it's on there hunting for the location.

- Now there's a ton of people who hate him and he's going down and he's gonna die but he failed tonight very badly.

- Her son was proving that the max don't care about the election no about the country that they'd use force to take it over so the idiot took it the wrong way and tried to force this way into office in essence it does prove that the max were up to because a lot of people think that Mac people look like Trump and it's true. And they're probably having him suck down mom's blood and it doesn't do it and they're in a lot of trouble but they think they're forcing a measure and that's what they say which is true as well they are doing that. there's another thing going on too

- He says he's gonna try and harm our son with a weapon like an ax or a knife and he is trying to get to him and he's been saying it for about a week and people have been knifing him and hitting him with axes and it's because he's trying to have his people hit people with it and it's all over Florida and the United States and they are going after him very hard and he is going to be hit that is a big thing that happened and it is parkway deputies immediately started searching for the suspect they even had guns drawn along I-75 year legal road as they looked for the suspect though the suspect is still on the run the sheriff is calling this an isolated incident we don't know right now who the victim is or the suspect we want to go back a little bit...... and this happened today and it was the announcer And they did chase Trump into the woods after he shot someone they know who he is and they're putting warrants out on him it's a lot of cops in Florida to be chasing him and they saw what happened and he shot someone in cold blood and cops followed and I was walking in the backside of the park and police officer came up to me and said that you need to move immediately debbie Alotti says she was with several of her friends when they heard gunshots nearby a few minutes later she saw deputies swarm the park with a canine unit that's when she knew something was wrong so then I saw a bunch of more police officers come and our son says that was a lady and the announcer and Trump has been screwing around with this recording device and having it pick up the TV to be annoying so we're using it against him. He went to three Oaks Park that's where it is and it's because there is a tree dan cut down no he destroyed it and they came and cut it down and his is next and Trump ruined that one too he figured he could get away with it and get it out of the way and he was embarrassed and forgot and they did it to mom and they're the ones who had it done and they're dying because of it now it doesn't take too long before it to happen and they're going to leave the apartment and then die and the sun is not going to have pushed out but people fell for that. So he went to the park and said there's three trees he knows of and one of the some tree was left on the side of the road this morning that's what drove him nuts and he thinks he knew who it was and it was Tommy F and he shot him and he's the announcer on the news a few minutes ago. So people are up to getting him. Tommy F did shoot at her son but he was surrounded by trumpsters not max and the max are doing a full show and investigation and it's true people are people need to know. It's going to happen shortly the Trump is going to go away. He's he's a loser and a maniac and out of control and a danger to our son. We all know it.. There's another odd thing today

There's another odd thing today-

- We noticed that he is still picking on our son regardless so we are issuing requests for people to do something it kind of works and we have other people asking too and they're going to go ahead and try and do things to him what we said was when he looks like his ridiculous. The food and a clown he is a buffoon and on TV tonight he looked like an idiot and what he said was stupid. A lot of people would wanna take the country down using him again I mean he's a **** the whole empire of his fell and like 1 fell swoop so he wants to bring they they want to bring the whole thing down using this idiot. But you really can't do it that way you need to have the earth under control.

And we mean under control by people who wanna maintain society like Shaquille O'neal and Jet Li and others some from Russia are chiming in and France and we know that they're actually ethnically those places and races.

- There's another factor today that people figured out a lot of these people are nuts they figured out that they're steaming at everybody that they're yelling at everyone that they're meaningless homosexual losers and they want them taken down and it is gonna happen shortly that they're going to start going after people for real it's important what's happening. One more thing

= We need to have more time to say things and a lot less time focused on this bum next door and we need people to handle him he's a assassin at times and he's a terrorist and he does not need this attention we have a lot of projects and a lot of people that are depending on us we need teams to form and stay formed you can do tours but really we need people to stick to it and really this is a hard hard assignment and he's doing a lot of it and it's not really fair of us to allow it.

Thor Freya

we are on it now

Nuada Arrianna

now too

Frank Castle Hardcastle

we need the morlock o ut all of them now

Olympus we do this now. move them out.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

My Mate - Chapter 4 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Mom walked past the kitchen with a basket of clothes but backtracked upon seeing me sitting at the island.

I looked away from her and took another bite of my apple pie.

It seems I'll be the only one enjoying it this year.

"What are you doing? Why are you home?"

Confused, I looked up at mom.

"Ugh... school doesn't start until next week," I reminded her.

Maybe she forgot?

"No, why are you in my house? Don't you have friends to go play with?"

I stared at her with a blank expression for awhile.

Did she want me to admit that I have no friends?

Like none.

Not even an acquaintance that I can say hi to in passing.

Not even a human friend.

It's embarrassing and sad really.

We heard Calvin coming long before he actually entered the kitchen.

He was dressed in his usual plaid shirt and worn jeans and mom looked at his outfit with distaste.

"You should shave, sweetie," Mom suggested as Calvin opened the fridge for a bottle of water.

His beard wasn't messy, at least not to me.

It looked like he kept it trimmed and there was never food in it.

Calvin just shrugged in response to mom and I ate the last piece of pie on my plate.

"Torin go get dressed, you're going with Calvin."

"What?" we said together, Calvin saying it a bit more angrily.

I hesitantly looked over at him.

We've never really intentionally hung out. In fact, I would go as far to say he avoids going out in public with me.

A fact that I use to cry about actually.

"He can't come with us," Calvin grumbled.

"And why ever not?" Mom snapped.

We all knew she was going to get her way.

Biting my lip nervously, I put my dirty dishes in the sink before going up to my room.

I was hopping into a pair of jeans when I heard the now familiar rumble.

Pulling back the curtains, I watched Robby pull in front of the house, ignoring the driveway.

He stepped out in all black today and leaned back against his car with his arms folded over his wide chest.

When he removed his glasses and looked up at me, I stuck up my middle finger and laughed when he clutched at his chest as if in pain.

Backing away, I pulled on my converse and ran back downstairs to where Calvin was still grumbling to mom.

"Bye, have fun," Mom said, waving for Calvin to bend down so she could kiss his cheek.

She didn't have to do that with me and instead had to bend down herself to kiss my cheek.

I smiled and waved bye as I followed a grumpy Calvin.

Robert pushed off his car when we made it to him and raised a thick brow in question, looking between the two of us.

"Mom made me bring him," Calvin said gruffly while walking around to get in the passenger seat.

"That's okay, little Torin can tag along," Robert teased.

"Thanks, Robert," I said with a cheerful smile that became genuine when his jaw ticked.

"Get in," he said, opening the door and pulling his seat up so I could climb in the back.

It was a good thing I'm small because there's barely any room back here.

After I was seated, Robert fixed his seat and got in.

"Buckle up," I told the both of them while buckling myself in.

They grumbled but listened anyways.

"So where are we going?"

Truthfully, I was always excited when mom made Calvin take me with him.

I finally got to hang around my big brother and I'd never say it aloud or tell him but Robert was pretty cool too.

More than a few times they'd end up ditching me somewhere but I take what I get.

"Town," Calvin said shortly.

Robert chuckled and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a cassette tape.

"We're going to the fair."

"Really?" I gasped, bouncing a little in excitement.

I liked going to the county fair, for the food of course.

Its not so fun when you're by yourself.

Maybe it'll be different with Calvin and Robert there with me.

Some slow rock song started playing and I sat back and looked out the window.

Robert and Calvin would talk between each other but the twenty minute ride to town was mostly quiet.

Robert parked in front of the small ice cream parlor and I handed him his leather jacket when I climbed out.

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

[boredliondisorder]

Let's say you knew all about BPD before going to therapy, and you were diagnosed already. Would you still have gone to therapy, do you believe it was worth it for you? I don't know if it's worth going for me, I know I'll never be able to get that attachment, love and trust that I need anyways, might as well just pretend to be an NT until I can die. It's a life full of pain for sure but we'll have that anyways, won't we? Why therapy? Was hoping you could share the benefits you got from it.

---

Oh this might be a long one. OK.

I was actually diagnosed over ten years ago in 2008, iirc. At that point, I was in the hospital and was told that I either had to see a therapist of the doctor’s choosing, or I’d stay in the hospital for an indeterminate length of time. Staying in the hospital would cause me to lose my job, etc, So I agreed to see a therapist.

It took them quite a while to find someone who would treat a person with a diagnosis of BPD. Back then, BPD was seen as incurable and dangerous. No one wanted to risk their career or their life treating someone with BPD. Even though it turned out that people with BPD (those who legitimately suffered from it and weren’t just abusive) are not dangerous, and their outbursts are based around fear. Many thanks to Dr. Linehan for her work in that area.

Anyway, to make that long story short, the therapist tried to convince me I didn’t have BPD. It was a nightmare all around, and I left as soon as I could.

So I lived with that diagnosis for eleven years, not truly understanding it, warning people about it, both attaching myself to people and HATING that attachment to people, going through minor ups and downs, until a medical problem caused the anti-psychotics I was on to stop working.

Then I actually had to face the diagnosis. It started to get bad. But it was such a slow process that I didn’t realize it. Eventually, I hurt the people who mattered to me most, which is what BPD tends to lead to over and over and over, and I realized that if it happened again, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I’d rather kill myself than live through that again. I had to break the cycle.

I really did want to live. I wanted to live to finish my book, to see my nephews grow up, to achieve my dream of getting venomous snake certification and working with my favorite elapid, the king cobra. I couldn’t do all that if I was dead.

At the time I decided to go back to therapy, I knew SO MUCH about BPD. I was sure it would be useless for me for the same reasons you do: that I was doomed to repeat this pattern for the rest of my (possibly short) life, working at trust for weeks and months, then losing it because of a disease that refuses to disappear. A lot of this is in my previous posts, so I won’t go into it all in detail again, but my mind finally got to a point where it refused to accept friendship. I didn’t talk to anyone except my parents, my sister, and my best friend for weeks.

I found a therapist who specialized in BPD. And that’s important, because she helped me discover where my BPD came from--where it started and the reasons for it--as well as learning to question the fears that often led to the stereotypical “borderline rage.” She taught me how to take a step back and re-evaluate. To leave a situation alone for a while until I had a legitimate answer. To actually have discussions with people instead of accusing.

I’ve already been able to use these new skills when it comes to very slowly forming bonds with people. That’s another thing I learned--how to not go from 0 to 60 in a new friendship, but develop it slowly. To not saddle new friends with my problems, but to get to know them first. And sometimes it turns out--as I’ve found a couple times already--that those friends aren’t right for hearing my issues, and I would have hurt myself by rushing into an unsustainable friendship.

And this took... so much time. I am still learning. And I think I always will have to continue learning, because BPD isn’t curable. The things most people know when it comes to emotion and relationships aren’t things that come to us naturally. You can recover from BPD, but the skills you learn are hard-fought and difficult to master. In a lot of ways, a person with BPD who has recovered is always going to have to “fake it” in the simplest of terms.

But that’s okay. To paraphrase the saying, if you can’t naturally form healthy emotional attachments, therapy-learned is okay, too.

In your ask, you said “might as well just pretend to be an NT until I can die.” And honestly, that’s... The whole point of therapy. Therapy’s going to help you pretend, and over time, pretending will become easier. Almost natural. And there will be days when you want to backtrack. When you want to say “why don’t you love me?” to your very best friends. But you’ll have the tools to Not Do That, which is more than you might have now.

It’s unfortunate that NTs refuse to truly accommodate those with BPD, but they really can’t understand it because they don’t grasp the intensity of the emotions we suffer. They don’t understand why we’re asking them to help us in a certain way, or fuck, to just pick up a book and read about the disorder. NTs on tumblr have also been told over and over that they’re justified for “leaving abusive people, even if they’re mentally ill,” and that’s where the mindset remains. So many people equate the symptoms of BPD with actual abuse, so much so that when you tell a neurotypical person that you have BPD, the response I’ve always gotten without fail is “but you don’t seem like that type of person.”

I’m working to change that. I don’t think I could do that without therapy. It’s an uphill battle, but I think I’ve gotten through to some people already. I’m going to continue to try.

In summary, it’s okay to use therapy as a way to learn how to pretend. And in pretending, you’ll learn to feel better, because you won’t be destroying your friendships at every turn. When the low part of your cycle starts its upswing, you’ll still have friends there to help you. Try not to resent them too much for their ignorance.

There is light at the end of the tunnel, even if it’s a lot of work. But I guarantee that if you find a therapist you like who specializes in BPD, you’ll eventually start to see improvement. Seriously. I think we’re all naturally suspicious and we’re so sure that therapy can’t help us, but it really can. I’ve been right where you are, and I’m glad I decided to go.

[dixonious]

arrowheads | a twd fanfic

Summary: Y/N and Sophia have breakfast, while doing so Y/N askes about Sophia's aloneness when she found her.

Warning: some language and possible grammatical errors.

ONWARD AND YONWARD!!

_______________________________________________

Chapter [4]: Burning Squirrels and Talking Shop

Narrator's POV.

To Y/N's suprise, no danger had found them that night. It was quiet, other than the crickets and cicadas that hummed in the darkness.

It was deemed "safe" for that night, yeah, but Y/N wouldn't want to try her luck being under tree than in one again.

Now, just a couple of hours before the sun rose, Y/N watched as the little blonde started to stir in her spot against the tree. She was only sitting a few feet away from her as she figure it'd be nice for the little girl to wake up to breakfast. Squirrel.

"Mhn." A quiet groan escaped Sophia's lips. Her eyes shot open, and she began to look around frantically.

Y/N quickly took action, "hey, hey." Y/N said rushed over towards Sophia, putting her knife she used to poke at the squirrel in it's holster. "It's alright, you're alright." She said once she reached Sophia, trying to make eye contact with the girl as her eyes bounced all over the place.

Finally catching the girl's eyes, Y/N nodded at her in reassurance. "You're okay." Sophia nodded back, getting that she was okay.

Y/N smiled softly, "I'm making squirrel. Figured we could eat and talk about getting you back to whoever you were with, yeah."

Sophia stared at Y/N for q long minute before looking over her shoulder and pointing.

Y/N frowned and gave a head tilt before following Sophia's gaze, her jaw nearly hitting the ground as she caught sight of the problem.

Squirrels catching flame.

"Shit!" Y/N exclaimed as she rushed over to their meal. She quickly grabbed the shirt she had as an oven mitt and she picked up the stick that was holding the squirrels.

She held it up and blew as hard as she could at it.

For Sophia, this was pretty amusing. She sat straight up, letting the blanket fall from under her chin. She watched as her rescuer struggled to get the flame out.

Y/N continue to blow and blow, and eventually the flame distinguished.

"Phew!" Y/N let out a breathe of air. "I'd say this is just about perfectly done." She said with confidence. "Or. It's just about perfectly overcooked." Y/N let out a chuckled sigh,

"this is why I shouldn't be allowed to cooked." Y/N whispered to herself.

Y/N's head snapped over to where a giggled came from her left side, "so you think this is funny, huh?" The h/c archer said with amusement in her tone.

Sophia continued to giggled as she nodded her.

Y/N snorted, "yeah, yeah, laugh it up." She said as she put out the fire and placed the squirrels back onto the makeshift rack.

"Come on, we'll let these cool a bit and then we can eat up."

Sophia took herself and the blanket over to where Y/N sat, sitting crisscross applesause on the opposite side of her. And to Y/N's suprise, the little blonde spoke.

"Do you always burn your food?" Sophia asked, laughter in her voice, along with curiosity.

"Pfft! No. No way! I'mma good cook." Y/N denied.

Sophia raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, fine. I do. But not always. Just sometimes."

Sophia giggled again, and Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"Messing up food has nearly always been with me." Y/N explained as she twirled a twig into the dirt. "I can cook, I swear. I just, at times, forget about the food that I'm cooking and it may or may not burn."

"It does burn." Sophia said in laughter.

"Yeah." Y/N chuckled.

A couple of minutes passed. Those minutes spent in silence, and munching on their squirrels. Y/N took the more burnt one, while Sophia took the less burnt one. And honestly, to Y/N, her burnt squirrel wasn't that bad. She finished it up rather quickly with having barely ate the day before.

When she was done, she went into her pack and count the bottles of water that were there. Four. Four water bottles. The Georgia heat would make a person want to drown them all right then and there. But they'd have to make this work until she could find a new source of water.

Y/N reached and pulled out one, she screwed the cap off and drank a little less than half. She passed the rest to Sophia, who gratefully accepted it.

She finished up the rest of her squirrel and took to pretty small gulps of the water.

Sophia reached the bottle back out toward Y/N. "No, no. It's cool. You drink it." Y/N said.

Sophia looked reluctant to, but she took another swallow, reaching the bottle back to Y/N again.

"We should save it." She said softly.

"Kid, just drink it." Y/N said with a slight chuckle.

"Mhn-mhn." The little blonde shook her head.

The archer sigh, taking the bottle from the little girl. She screwed the cap back on and placed it back into her bag.

"Little Blue. The last time you saw your people or whoever. They were alive right?" Y/N asked as she closed her bag back up, hoping she would get an answer.

"Yes." Sophia responded.

"Okay. I wanna help you find 'em." I said, waiting for a response.

There was a long silence before she decided to reply, "I was with my mom. And a brunch of other people, friends. We were coming from this really big..doctor place."

"The CDC?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, yeah that's it." Sophia exclaimed.

"Was that were y'all last were?"

"No." Sophia said sadly. "I think the doctor that was there..I think he was crazy. We wanted to leave but he locked us inside. I didn't really understand what was going on. There were a lot a big words used. But, I remember him saying something about the air going to set on fire."

Sophia watched as Y/N's face scrunched up in horror, "we all got out. Well, except our friend Jacqui. She didn't. I remember us running to the cars and we got down and the place exploded." The little girl said, sadness in her voice.

"We were on going somewhere else, but we got to this highway and cars blocked our way and a lot of the monsters came, we hid under the cars. I thought that they were all gone, but they weren't. I got up, and two of them chased me."

"That's how you got lost." Y/N said in understanding.

Sophia nodded, sadly as she looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about your friend Jacqui, too." Y/N said sincerely.

"Me too." The little blonde whispered.

Y/N thought over everything that Sophia had just told her. She knew about the CDC. About how they were looking for a cure for all this shit. They. Yet there was just him? One doctor?

Maybe the others had died. But they should've been safe inside there, right? Y/N was pretty sure they were heavy on lock down. It was a facility after all.

That one doctor was still there and then he stayed even with knowing the place would blow. And so did that Jaqui lady. They knew what was going to happen. They knew their fate if they stayed.

There were times were Y/N just wanted to quit. To give up, even before all this. But, she could never actually see herself giving up. She was determined to stay alive, to beat this. Determined was practically Y/N's middle name.

"Do you know where the highway is, Sophia?" Y/N asked.

"No." She answered. "I just remember, mostly going straight towards it from the CDC. And that there were a lot of cars there."

Y/N frowned in thought. If this was the same highway that she was thinking of, then she knew were it was. Hell, she had gotten just about half of her supplies from there.

"I think I know where it is." Y/N said.

Sophia's head shot up immediately, "you do?" She asked.

"Yeah," Y/N said, surely. "I came across is it, a week or so ago. But, we're not that far from it." Y/N answered.

Sophia frowned in confusion.

"Yes, just about a week ago I was there. But I didn't exactly leave the area. It's only about less than a 2 day's walk." The archer explained. "Do you know how long were you out here before I found you, Sophia?"

The little girl looked up in wonder. "It got dark 2 times, so 2 days? I think." She said.

"Holy sh-crap." Y/N said, catching herself, Sophia smiled a bit.

"Sorry." Y/N chuckled, catching the girl's smile. "You've just been out here all by yourself for a long while."

"I stayed the first night in a small cabin in a closet."

Y/N frowned, "why didn't you stay there?"

"I heard a monster. I got scared and I ran."

Y/N nodded. That was understandable for someone her age and size.

"I'm gonna getcha back to your people, Kid. To your mom." Y/N said determinedly as she stood from her spot on the ground, she grabbed her bookbag from the ground, Sophia took this as sign of leaving so she reached the blanket she had wrapped around her out towards Y/N.

"We'll backtrack to where I found you. You think you can remember which way you came from there?" Y/N asked as she started to pack everything up.

"I think so." Sophia said in a tiny voice.

"Alright. It's no big, if you can't. I'm no pro, but I'm a pretty good tracker. If nothing messed up your path, we're good." Y/N stated.

"Okay." Said Sophia, as she reached for her doll and stood.

After packing everything up, and placing everything where it went on her, compound bow in hand, Y/N knelt down to Sophia's height.

"Listen, Little Blue. Those idiot living-nonliving things usually don't go to deep into the woods, but that doesn't mean they can't." Y/N explained carefully.

"If we come across them you gotta promise me you won't run. If you do, you might get lost again, and maybe I won't be able to find you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. But you can't run. Okay?"

Sophia took in every word the woman had said to her. She understood. But she wasn't sure if she could not run. But she'd try.

"Okay. I understand." She said, with just as much determination in her voice as Y/N had just moments ago.

"Good. So, let's do this." The archer said, as she stood full height, reaching her hand out to Sophia, who accepted with no hesitation.

Together, the two set out on their journey.

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Boom! And that's the fourth chapter! I really like this one, I hope y'all do, too! :) let me know what you think?

The next chapter may be up in a few hours or tomorrow, so see ya then!

@coffeebooksandfandom, @checkintoreality, @wnygirl2012, @assassinsasha23, @catlya, & @aristocracy-y.

If anyone else wants a tag, just let me know!

[canijustwritemyshit]

Soul-Stars

Harry stood there, waiting for the pain to subside. His mark burned, a white hot flame that was stark against his light olive skin. He gritted his teeth and waited, muffling his yelps of discomfort from his horrible aunt and uncle. 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” he whispered to himself. He released a breath, as the pain finally ceased. 

It took several weeks before he saw a new color. At first he thought it to be a scar, so faint and silvery was this thing, this mark he now possessed. He spent several hours pondering what this star meant for his future, meanwhile another was contemplating much the same question. Who?

Draco Malfoy sat in front of his mirror, inspecting his tattooed skin. The little star raised and irked due to the sudden change in pigment. Emerald green. The color of an old, fading muggle tattoo. The color of seaweed. His heart sank. Green. Not red like the Boy He Loved. Green. He assumed a Slytherin, and his heart plunged. How wrong he was.

A few days later, in the middle of breakfast, Draco heard the shrill yell. "What do you mean your mark has color? We were supposed to be soulmates! How dare you!" Ginerva Weasley. In a plume of hatred and betrayal, she was lit. Red hair suspended in the air with magical anger. "You were promised to me! Dumbledore promised you would be mine if I was helpful to you! He promised me fame! Fortune! The traitor!" She went red. "I, I'm joking! Ha. Hahaha. See, funny!" She tried to backtrack as people started to stand and walk behind Harry.

"No. You are not. You are manipulative and wrong and mean. You are using me for fame, are you not? Ginny. I don't love you. I never loved you. I dated you as it was expected. Not anymore. " Harry bit out. "I think you need to go before you make it worse."

"No! You are mine! And if you won't be mine willingly, I will make you! Crucio!" She screeched. Draco stood as fast as his legs could, and ran. Ran in front of Harry.

Pain.

All Draco could feel was pain. Excruciating, devastating pain. He couldn't see through the thick screams of agony and the stream of tears cascading down his cheeks. Then, silence. Stillness.

"Ginerva Magdalene Weasley! My office NOW." Professor McGonagall yelled. "Harry, dear, get him to Poppy, please. Zabini, Longbottom, keep behind them."

Harry looked down and lifted the frail Draco into his arms, making haste to get him help.

The five minute walk was almost unbearable as they rushed to the Mediwitch. "What has happened!? Harry Potter! Did you do this to the boy? The Headmistress will ne notified immediately!" Pomphrey clucked.

"No, ma'am. Harry was innocent. Malfoy jumped in front of the cruciatus for Harry. Harry's ex threw it. Please, help them!" Neville spoke up, realizing the reason for his and Zabini's presence.

"Zabini? Mr. Potter? Is this true?" She inquired.

They nodded as Harry lay the boy in his arms in a cot as gently as possible. As he released Draco, he caught a glimpse of the boy's collarbone through his disheveled shirt. Green? The color of his eyes.

It took a few hours, many spells and pain potions, but finally, finally, Draco opened his bleary eyes, and croaked a sound that could have been mistaken for a cough or a gag, "Har-" he sputtered. Harry, who had been sitting next to him in the long-felt hours, lost in his thoughts about this newfound situation, turned sharply towards the other boy lying in the hospital bed. The boy who had suffered so much, and had caused much of Harry's own suffering in their primitive years at Hogwarts. The boy who had jumped in front of an Unforgivable for him. Harry was beside himself.

"Shhh, Draco, it's alright," Harry turned to the bedside table and grasped a glass of water, handing it to the other boy, "Drink this, while I get Pomfrey. Hang tight." He offered Draco a tight lipped smile as he left the curtained off area, and went to find the Mediwitch.

A moment later Harry reappeared with the small, rounded woman. "Mister Malfoy! You gave us all quite the scare, and I admit I wrongfully accused the two of you boys to one of your squabbles. For this, I must apologize." She cleared her throat quickly, before marching on to her more professional business. "Right, so, you have no permanent damage done, you seem to be holding yourself well. You will be tired for upwards of a week, and Professor McGonagall has taken it to herself to properly remove the both of you from your dorms, so after I'm through with you, either Minerva or a house elf will escort you to your new room."

They stopped short, the singular 'room' not lost on them even through the hubbub and stress that had occured.

"I see you're both confused, but I'm afraid that the Headmistress will have to explain.

'Anyways, Draco, you will have to be extra careful with overdoing it, which means very little magic, lots of rest, and if you are having any blackouts, pain that causes nausea or vomiting, memory issues, or anything abnormal at all, you must come back. I have here a few pain potions for the next few days, if you need more you come straight to me. If there are no questions, you both will be free to go, I'll retrieve someone to help you to your new housing." And with that, she left.

After a wait filled with anticipation of the unknown, McGonagall arrived, though she looked to be haggard and still very angry. "Potter, Malfoy, I hope you feel better! I have had quite the few hours I'm afraid, what with aurors and notifying the Weasley family, I'm sorry I couldn't come talk to you earlier." She looked like she had swallowed an acid drop that still wouldn't dissolve.

Draco spoke up, "It's alright, I just woke up, and I'm sore, so I'm not the greatest company at the moment."

McGonagall pursed her lips further, "No, I suppose you are not. What say you two stay back tonight from meal time- get more acquainted with each other- and share a meal in your dormitory." She motioned for the teens to follow behind her, as she walked briskly up stairwells to a far back tower towards the outermost corner of Hogwarts itself.

Upon arrival she turned to them, indicating a single painting of a Spector of glowing white blue hovered through a dark view of the stars. "Your password until you so choose to change it-" she narrowed her eyes sternly, "and agree upon it- is anima stella." With that she turned on her heel and strode away, her cloak billowing in a very Snape-ish way.

Harry turned to Draco, "You first? " he rubs his head, sheepishly, unsure. Draco nodded, his nerves equally as unsettled.

[nightfallguardian]

D.6

He's out there someplace. I've seen him. I suppose I should backtrack a little, fill in some missing bits for those who are missing the most. You city folks have urban legends, scary stories. Silly stuff like vaults full of ghosts being kept so there aren't more guardians, that the Earth is flat, and so on. We have some ourselves, ones like a group of iliksni guardians, of weapons that are almost magical. We also have our scary stories. Everyone has heard whispers of a dark heart in thorny halls, a labyrinth of bone and screams. Some of these places exist, some don't, others are some sort of quantum superstate in between realities. Between the light, vex, hive, darkness... There are so many things we don't quite grasp. In these places, things... Change.

The city knows these things, even in whispers and legends. None of what I'm saying is new, or troubling. Hell, you can hear about the same in bars on the weeks end. But there's a legend I hadn't heard of before, one guardians don't bring into the light often or for long. Guardians lost to us are another subject that brings up the same sort of stillness, the dying of laughter and the darkening of eyes follow some stories, some words.

I was out in the reef, since we've been allowed back I've taken a turn at the whole curse thing out there. It's unsettling, watching the whole place get torn up, killing fields of the enemy only to have nothing change week after week. Makes my skin crawl, lights truth. So I walked away from it, started poking around the reef. Easy friends and loot out there, but both will cost you a chunk of glimmer. I had bought some... Information. A little tussle had gone down outside the reef. Some hive, some fallen, some mercenary group: the players didn't matter really. It was the salvage that had eyes drifting that way. Usually weapons could survive a tussle, the odd armor bit, components mostly, and matter you could deprogram into glimmer. That was the biggest draw. Ships and armor have a lot of super fine, reprogrammable parts. Makes em able to self repair, and it makes them easy to scavenge.

I made it out to this desolate corner of asteroid belt, and there it is. Tussle is too small of a word for what I found. Tomb ships, a couple of skiffs, and a few guardian lugs all dead in space. Debris field was huge, and my palms were itching just thinking of all the junk I could scrap in the two days I had paid spider for. My ship is a small half ring affair, with field generators that give me a bubble of air and working space so I can salvage without cutting bits up and bringing them through an airlock or any other nonsense. Makes me one of the fastest being able to just skim along and place a working bubble on the most valuable parts quick and easy. My ship is mostly air tanks, storage, and those generators. High profit margins, but it cost me to build. I'm still paying on parts of it, prototype bits and such. Will be for decades probably, thank you Bray and Holliday.

So there I was, about eighteen hours in, working on the port guns of a tomb ship. The exotic coils in those sell for quite a bit. I had the bubble up, my ghost Andre was sorting and cleaning the salvage as we went, business as usual. Then Andre pinged me. One of the guardian ships wasn't too beat up, and the scans were showing some high grade alloys inside. Scans wouldn't penetrate, which means weapons, or valuable black market items. It was half jammed into a broken tomb ship. Weal passed slowly through a debris cloud, hive bodies and awoken floating peacefully in space. The salvage I was heading to suddenly woke up, swinging away from the tomb ship. It had nosed in, not been stuck at all. Lights flickered on, and a small cannon shot twice. One hit my sensor array, the other bored right into the engine cowling.

Pirates. Dark guardians, had to be. A short range radio transmission told me to shut down and wait to be boarded. I was dead in space, so I shut down. I was just about to tell my ghost Andre to flee, Rez me later, when I saw one of the bodies move. It looked like a hunter, with the signature cape. As it rotated in the void I could see his face.

Two dull yellow eyes glared through a broken exo face at the darkness. It had to be a trick of the light, he was spaced. Dead. That kind of damage had to have killed the guy even if space couldn't. If his ghost was alive, he wouldn't be here.

As the pirate ship moved in, the dead exo kicked off the corpse of a hive knight next to him, and I guess the ship noticed. Banking hard, it tried to bring it's guns up, but it was too late. The ruin-faced hunter was already on the ship, doing something. I couldn't see, I didn't want to see. I was quickly trying to fire up my auxiliary power. There was a flash of bright light, that was also dark somehow. A shockwave caused my ship to groan, I realized something exploded. It had to be the pirate ship, shooting at me or the guardian. I looked up, into a pair of yellow, deadly eyes. One flickered softly, but neither eye wavered. His face... It looked worse up close. Broken, raw edged metal thrust forward like the teeth of some nightmare beast, electricity sparking behind all the damage now and then. He pointed at me, then over my shoulder to the small airlock I had for repairs. He wanted in.

I knew that if I didn't let him in, I would probably live only long enough to regret it. I opened the exterior hatch. Once he was inside, he quickly went over my haul. Pulling components with remarkable dexterity, he had filled a little sack in about a half hour. They were parts that sold for more than triple their weight in glimmer, with broken rifles, and a host of other odds and ends. I didn't speak, and neither did he. I had a feeling speaking first would hurt. A lot. The broken faced exo pulled out a ghost, a dark shell with a red eye scanned the bag and transmatted it, glancing at us before it too vanished. The broken faced exo came to me then, looking into my eyes. He didn't go for his rifle, or his hand cannon. Instead he stabbed me, with a metal shiv broken off one of the bigger bits in my hold. It wasn't immediately fatal, but I could tell it would be. I gasped in surprise. My ghost immediately came out cursing him, trying to heal me.

Ruin-face grabbed him, I heard Andre beep in pain. He took a black knife from his chest and held it to Andres eye. Making it very clear he was in control. He motioned me to the floor, where I laid on my face, fear pumping through my veins. He set Andre right next to my face, straddling me, he wrenched off my left glove. He carved something into the back of my hand.

He said "I'm sorry, Friends. But needs must." In a surprisingly rough but sane voice. He put a slip of paper on Andre like a little hat, and transmatted out. The paper was a warning, and an invitation.

Friend.

There are secrets to be had. Fighting is good, making the enemy afraid is better. More danger comes, though not always from where you would believe. On the darkest day, find me. You will know the way.

I was found a bit later, dead on my ship. He had planted a small charge in the airlock, and a vacuum doesn't agree with humans missing helmets. Andre set off the alert beacon. Spider had a crew grab me, for a fee naturally. There was no note, and the mark on the back of my hand is gone. But I know it's there, I can feel it now and then, I could trace it in my sleep... I've brought up Ruin-Face to dozens and dozens of guardians who frequent the grey zones. The edges of safe space, where dark creeps in and light fades. All of them laugh at my silly story, the urban myth of Ruin-Face. But I watch. I have sharp eyes, it comes from scavenging. They all laugh at me, yes; but some of them laugh while rubbing the back of their left hand...

[volumes2lo-gan]

Romantic prinxiety Where Roman and Virgil don't get along but the theater needs another singer for there musical legally blonde ( if you haven't seen it before you can change it I just love that musical ) Virgil does it because he needs his grades up in theatre class. Virgil winds up playing Emmett and Roman plays Elle ( he's the only one who can hit the right notes and they don't care he's a boy ) they have to rehearse the kiss and turns out that they like it more than they thought they would

I love this prompt and it took a while to get enough time to sit down and write this, but I like how it turned out.  My school put on Legally Blonde last year, so I was familiar with it, but still needed a little refresher.  I also changed up the prompt a tad, but hope you enjoy!

Stick to the Script

Fandom: Sanders SidesPairing: Prinxiety, platonic Moxiety and LoginceWarnings: physical injury (nothing graphic)

Summary: Someone must’ve said Macbeth because they’re going to need a new Emmett.  Virgil is volunteered for the role and neither he nor Roman are too happy about it.

Tagged: @existental-crises @jordisama @here-to-vent @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @novagalaxy4real @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @emo-space-trash @evanisonfire @lollingtothemax @all-the-fand0mz

The stage was crazy this time of year, it wasn’t quite tech week yet, but the theater was bustling with students learning their lines and dance numbers. Virgil watched from behind a curtain on side stage as Roman and Logan performed their lines.

“Oh, and getting one of Stromwell’s daily quotes right is almost as important as acing the mid-term,” Logan recited.

“But you didn’t hear it from me.” Virgil finished under his breath.

“I still don’t get why you didn’t try out.” Virgil jumped and turned to face Patton, his heart racing. Damn, they really ought to get that kid a cowbell.

“Trust me, you don’t want to see me on stage,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “I’m better back here as SM where there’s order and no surprises.”

As if on cue, there was a loud crash from the stage followed by a long, agonizing moan.

“Logan!” Roman yelled, jumping off his bench and running forward to kneel next to Logan.  It looked as though he’d tripped over a loose cable when he’d gone to move to the front of the stage.  There was another low moan as Virgil met Roman and the other students starting to swarm around the injured student.  Logan’s arm was bent underneath him at a peculiar angle.

“You see?” he said, pain barely masked in his voice, “This is why I need to wear my glasses in this role.”

Thomas, their theater teacher and director, finally got to Logan’s side and tried helping him up, motioning for the other students to give them some space. “Ookay, take it easy there, Logan, I think your arm is broken.”

“You think?” He retorted.  He was still trying to cradle his arm as Thomas steadied him and called 911.

“An ambulance is on its way,” he said, tucking his phone away.  “Roman, can you please bring him to the front of the school? His parents can meet him there.” Roman nodded and helped his friend leave the auditorium.

Once the doors had closed, Thomas turned to the rest of the students who were still standing in awkward silence. “So I know that it’s really close to tech week, but Logan won’t be able to perform with his arm broken like that. We’re going to need a new Emmett since Logan’s understudy has the flu." Patton’s hand shot up.

“Virgil can do it!”  Virgil’s heart froze.

No.

“Virgil?”

This can’t be happening.

“Yeah!” Patton beamed, “He knows all the lines and everything. He’s a really good singer too!”

Patton shut up.

“Well, Virgil, if that’s something you’d be up for, you would really be doing us a huge favor.” Thomas said, eyes quietly pleading with that look that had gotten him a decent budget for this year’s play.

“I…” I can’t believe I’m doing this… “I can… I can do it, yeah.” Virgil finally managed, feeling like his chest was about to concave.

“Great!” Thomas said, relieved to be saved from at least one disaster. The doors swung open and Roman came sauntering back in. Uhg, Virgil thought, immediately regretting his decision.

“What’s great?” Roman asked, hopping back on stage nonchalantly as though his best friend’s arm hadn’t just been broken.

“Virgil has volunteered to be our new Emmett!” Thomas said, gesturing to the new actor in question. Roman’s eyes widened and he shot Virgil a bewildered look.

“Wh– Virgil? He’s SM, he can’t be Emmett,” he reasoned hastily. Patton stepped forward a little.

“Well I can take over as set manager, I was already doing a lot of work with Virgil anyways, it shouldn’t be that different. Anyways,” he added, “Virgil will be a great Emmett!”

Virgil scuffed his shoe on the stage whilst actively avoiding eye-contact with every living being in the room. Of course Roman would have a problem with it. Mr. I’m A Perfect Prince couldn’t handle sharing stage with a techie, but whatever.  If anything, Virgil would do an amazing job just to spite him. Heck, maybe he’d even upstage him in the process. Virgil crossed his arms and steeled himself to look Roman in the eye.

“I’m going to try my best, so let’s put our best foot forward, shall we?”

Roman’s eye twitched. This was going to be a long musical.

It was finally tech week and everyone was scrambling to pull their pieces together.  The pit was rehearsing with them every night till eleven, the cast kept going after that until midnight, and the crew stayed till upwards of two in the morning ensuring that everything was perfect.  They’d gone through the show multiple times already and were about ready for a full run-through.  There was just one problem- the leads hadn’t practiced their kiss.

Virgil was playing Emmett flawlessly and Roman was pleasantly surprised, though he would never admit it.  However, every time they got to the kiss scene, Virgil would make up some excuse to skip to a later line.  It was crunch time and he was really starting to test Roman’s patience.

“It’s not the end of the world, Romeo.  It’s just one stage kiss, that’s it.”  Roman was glaring at Virgil who was, once again, avoiding eye-contact.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “If it’s just a kiss, then why do we have to rehearse it?  We’ll just throw it in at the end.”

“It is at the end!”  Roman exclaimed.  “That’s the whole point!”

“Well, then we’ll get to it at the end,” Virgil replied flatly.  He knew he was pushing Roman’s buttons, but this was just the icing on the spite cake.  He genuinely enjoyed the play and all, but if he saw a chance to annoy that wannabe Broadway star, then he’d be remised not to take it.

Thomas came down the center aisle with his arms raised.  “Okay, you two.  We’re going to need some order on stage.  We’re getting into crunch time, people, and we can’t risk this scene going wrong by being unprepared.  Virgil?  I need you to hold out for at least one scene please.  And Roman, that goes for you too.  We don’t need anyone stepping on toes here, but we do need to actually practice this scene before Friday.”  He was now standing in the front row, arms crossed expectantly.  Virgil huffed.

“Okay, fine.  But just once tonight, got it?”  

“Pretty sure I’m the director here, but sure.  If that’s what it’ll take to get a run of this scene, then go for it.”  Thomas said, heading back to the sound booth.

Virgil exhaled and looked over at Roman.  The kid was straightening out his outfit and checking the floor for his marks.  It’s just one kiss, Virgil thought, how bad can it be?

Thomas called out for them to start and the scene began.  Virgil kept up the banter of the scene they’d gone through so many times before.  His heart pounded in his chest, dread growing exponentially as the lines continued.

“Then, forget it.  Besides, I have an early class tomorrow.”  Roman said, jokingly.

“So Friday at eight?”  Virgil asked, barely able to hear himself over his own heartbeat.

“Perfect.”  Roman began his exit for side stage before his cue to turn and dart back towards Virgil.  Roman was about an inch from his face when Virgil finally steeled himself and kissed him.  

Roman froze and Virgil wasn’t sure why, but he felt the sense of dread carving deeper into his stomach.  And then he was being kissed back, warm and soft, a hand pulling his waist closer.  This definitely wasn’t in their script, but surprisingly, Virgil wasn’t complaining.  

After a few more seconds, they both pulled away and– Shit.  Virgil couldn’t remember his next line and looking at Roman’s flushed face and dazed expression wasn’t helping.  He stood there, trying to will himself to remember what he was supposed to do next, but nothing was coming to him.  

He let out a groan and quickly darted backstage, embarrassment washing over him as he remembered there were no more lines, Patton was supposed to fade them to black.  His shadow slowly melted away as the stage darkened behind him.  He hadn’t realized that Roman had followed him until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.  His heart leapt to his throat as he jumped in surprise.

“Virgil… that was… wow.”  He finished eloquently.  Virgil could even see Roman’s blush in the dim light of the side stage.

He cleared his throat.  “I- Well, Thomas said we needed to run through the scene, I just ran the script.”  He said, looking away at the prop table beside them.  Roman made a choked sound and Virgil looked up to see his expression of something between shock and amusement.

“W-wait.  You didn’t… you didn’t know it was supposed to be a stage kiss?”  Virgil froze, mind backtracking to figure out what he meant by that.

“A… stage kiss?”  He asked hesitantly.  Roman laughed and Virgil cringed away.

“Virgil,” he said, smiling as he put his hands on his shoulders for reassurance, “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just… I just can’t believe that no one’s explained it to you before.  A stage kiss… a stage kiss is like this.”  Roman leaned in and Virgil’s heart nearly stopped.  However, as he got closer, Roman’s hands reached up and cupped his face, thumbs ever-so-slightly covering his lips.  When Virgil felt the pressure of the kiss, it was from Roman’s thumbs pressing against his lips.  As Roman pulled away, Virgil flushed scarlet in embarrassment.  

“Oh my god,” he said, mortified.  “Wow I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.  Okay, well I’m going to see myself out and throw myself off a cliff now, BRB.”  He started for the door and made it one step before Roman grabbed his hand.

“No, it’s fine!”  He exclaimed, walking around to face Virgil.  “I… I kind of liked it…”  He rubbed the back of his neck as a flush crept down it.  Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You did?”  He asked, not really sure whether to believe him or not.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “yeah I did.  Do you think… I mean… would it be okay if I…” he was getting closer and Virgil’s heart started hammering in his chest.  He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“It’d be great, actually,” Virgil said before reaching up and pulling Roman into another kiss.  He held him close as their kiss deepened, heat coursing through their veins.  After a long moment, Virgil finally pulled away, leaving Roman a disheveled mess in front of him.  

“Holy hell,” Roman said after finally composing himself.  “Well that was… I… would you wanna get dinner after this?”  Virgil chuckled.

“Dude, it’s like eleven o’clock, dinner time’s over.”

“Well then how about breakfast if this thing goes really late?” he asked hopefully.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.  “Yeah, breakfast sounds good.”

“Great!  We should probably get back to stage, it looks like they’re setting up the next scene.”  Roman walked back on stage and Virgil paused for a moment.  He could’ve sworn he saw–

“See!!  I told you you’d make a great Emmett!”  Patton exclaimed, jumping out from the curtain’s shadow.  Virgil choked in surprise and Patton ran forward to help him.  “Oh, sorry, sorry!  I didn’t mean to scare you!”  

Virgil waved him off.  “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” he said with a smile, “Thomas wanted someone to check in and see what was wrong.  I just saw the tail end of… that, but don’t worry, I won’t tell.”  Virgil wanted to sink down into the shadows he was so embarrassed.  It was bad enough that he was starting to have a crush on his annoying co-star, but his best friend had to witness it?  High school was officially the worst.  

“Please don’t,” he said, backing towards the stage.

Patton made the zipping his lips motion and tossed out the key with a smile.  God, what did Virgil do to deserve such a great friend?  He turned to the stage and walked back into the flood of lights to see Roman looking at him from center stage.  He was trying to hide a smile and Virgil felt butterflies flutter to life in his stomach.  If tech week didn’t kill him, this crush surely would.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Theater of the Soul - Chapter 10

It all sounded wrong. The red in the box. Yet it sounded right, too. He felt that he was moved, somewhere, out of his safety-- the blanket. His fort that is his safety. Somewhere else cramped and smelled like fruit and chemicals.

A hand was extended toward him, followed with dark blue eyes that felt... safe. Safer than none. He took the hand, but didn't lower his legs from the cushions until the little girl came in and spoke to him. The scenery outside changed rapidly, but the little girl chirped along with everybody else and assured him that he would be okay.

Everything else was a big blur until he found himself on a couch. A comfortable couch, unlike the ones he would find on the streets - obviously. But there were no stars in the sky - not that there ever was in the skies of Los Angeles. The air felt chilled, but stale-- bottled. And he mourned a little, for the freedom he must have lost again, this time; for his little bird, gone with whatever meager possession they must have taken away from him, again; for the boy and the little girl, still with him from the sounds of her voice nearby, just probably not for long.

He sighed, a little dejectedly as he watched the activity and people talking around him without understanding. It was odd, that his brain could not understand. He was good with languages. Once upon a time. Before hell rained down on him. Before the wrath of... whoever or whatever deity that hated him befell him. But it was all his fault, anyway.

What else is new?

It seemed that seeing Barbara's quite an emotional response, and Jason's likewise response to Barbara finally convinced Danny that they were all somewhat related.

"How do I know you're not a pedo, dude?" He demanded once they managed to get Jason in to Helena's car, along with some meager possessions that... well, that Helena deemed worthy to be put in her car; which do not 'smell or looked like it hasn't seen a detergent or soap in twenty years.'

Tim gave him a withering glare. "I'm fifteen. You're sixteen. I believe 'pedo' requires the monster to be an older person." he deadpanned.

"She's an older lady." he pointed out.

"And I can assure you, young man, that I have no interest in men whose age start with the number one, or are yet to be able to legally buy liquor." Helena retorted.

"She's actually a school teacher, you know." Tim said. "Maybe..."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Drake." Helena warned.

"Not making any, just a suggestion." Tim shrugged, taking the front passenger seat and partially turned around to look at Jason. The latter was huddled in the backseat, hugging his knees and looked...

Tim blinked in confusion.

...scared. That's what Jason looked like.

On a whim, he extended his hand toward Jason. After staring at Tim's hand for a long moment, Jason tentatively took it and held on.

"You'll be okay," Tim told him. "Whatever happened, you'll be okay. I promise..."

"What did I say about promises you can't keep?" Helena scoffed.

"I don't care, Helena. He will be okay. Whatever and however." Tim said, solemnly promising himself that.

"Well... I'm going in to get my sis... Won't be five minutes. But if he freaked out..." Danny warned them as the car pulled over in front of the Hope Center.

"We'll holler." Helena assured him. As Danny slipped out of the car, Tim started to feel the tremble.

"Hey, hey... you're alright... Jason, you'll be okay, I promise..." Tim soothed him, rubbing his thumb to the back of Jason's hand - still lightly clutching his. "I know... I know you're scared. Whatever happened to you..." he continued, keeping his voice soothing and low. "it's not your fault, okay? I'm here to help. We're here to help you go home."

Tim kept talking softly, with Helena watching, until Danny came back with a 4-year old girl in tow. She glowered at Tim and Helena before her eyes landed on Jason and she bounded into the car. "Hi, Red!" she cooed.

Jason didn't reply. But he didn't object either when the little girl firmly took a seat on his lap. He had released Tim's hand to hold her with both arms.

"This is Ellie, my sis." Danny explained. "I told her we're going to a hotel with some really nice folks." he glared, as if expecting Helena or Tim to challenge him.

"Babs and Dinah would've gotten some food," Tim said. "...I hope." he added.

"Dinah has... handled homeless issues before." Helena replied, a little grim. "Just... food for thought here, Timothy, we're not in Gotham. Nobody here cares enough like Bruce Wayne to start something to help everybody."

Tim nodded. "I know." he acknowledged. "Just... I'm not stupid, okay? I'd love to help whenever I can. But I know where I'm standing."

"We don't really need your help, you know." Danny said, a little huffily. "I toldja my mom would be outta jail next week."

"And then you think she'll go back to prostitution, or can find a job on her own thereafter?" Tim asked softly. "It's just... Gotham, where I'm from, has this kind of problem, too. Back there, we have someone who's willing to help those who need it - like your mom or you. Here, honestly, I don't know if anybody will. And if what Helena said is right, nobody would. You'll need all the help you can get, Danny." he added.

Danny was quiet for a long moment, and then said, "I can get a job. I just haven't found any so far."

Tim nodded, but said nothing. "Yeah, we'll figure it out, man. Just... give us a week, alright?"

It was only once they got to the penthouse, and met Barbara's glare, that Tim started to wonder if his plans would backfire at some point.

"Bruce is flying here right after curtain down tonight," Barbara told him. "I've told him that Jason might need a physician, so he's bringing along Dr Leslie Thompkins. Whatever you have in mind for those two - and probably their mother, next, I hope you have or will think it through, Tim."

"Yeah, well. No I haven't. But I've checked with the Teachers' Registry and their mother is registered there. She was laid off from a private school due to downsizing - not because of any complaints. Babs..." Tim pressed his lips, "do you ever think of how hard of a decision it would be for a teacher to go down the road of solicitation to feed her children?"

Barbara's sigh was soft, but right there. "I am a woman, Tim." she reminded, and Tim could feel the flush rising up in his cheeks.

"Yeah, just... you know, even those of the same gender can sometimes be insensitive of their own's plight. ...Not saying you do, that is. Just..." he backtracked quickly.

"Timmy, baby, your compassion is stellar. But..."

"...if Bruce had thought of having 'saved' only one person, Dick wouldn't be there. Jason wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here. And that's not putting names or numbers to the Narrows and Park Row kids at the community theater of each area." Tim snapped. "I don't understand people's obsession with numbers. Yeah, it might take me a shit load of cost to try and help one person. Yeah, I'm a kid, and maybe I don't have that kind of money. But at least I can present to those who can help - can set aside some of their resources to help. Like Bruce, maybe. Or Kate. Or anyone.

"Even if it doesn't work in the long run, Babs, at least I've tried. It's better than doing nothing, right? If everyone who 'wants' to help eventually do nothing, where do those who have less get their second chances? I know I'm not a god who can just will everyone to prosper or suffer less. I know I didn't waste my vote on the stupid idiot we have to refer to as 'the President' who'd made people suffer indirectly and directly. But at least I don't sit around and do nothing other than clucking my tongue and twiddle my thumbs!" Even as he wrapped up his speech, he quickly became aware of Helena and Dinah's glare from behind him. He screwed his eyes shut, feeling foolish.

He understood that his wishes were wishful thinking. Tim was smart enough to understand that it would take more than a few weeks at the Penthouse or a few jobs offered to make sure Danny, his sister, and mom wouldn't need to suffer and/or live on the streets. He just... didn't see why he shouldn't try.

"I've called my boyfriend, Ollie," Dinah suddenly said. "He told me that his friend, Michael Holt, has just opened a business here in LA that's looking for new employees. I'll see if he can save up a few slots." Dinah's boyfriend Ollie - Oliver Queen - was a businessman whose businesses tend to lean on the sustainable green businesses. Michael Holt, Tim knew from the plethora of articles of him in various magazines, has a technology-based company that has since blown up bigger than Apple and its contemporaries.

"They... and their mom - can stay over at our place while they look for another." Helena said. "No need for Wayne to keep this penthouse open while our place can handle them."

"We don't need charity!" Danny suddenly burst in .

"Danny..." Tim started, but Dinah cut him off.

"Oh no, buddy, this ain't charity. I'll bill you and your mom once she got out." Dinah told him. "You should consider this as being put on credit."

Danny seemed to contemplate the thought for one long moment, and Tim could feel Barbara tugging the back of his shirt, likely warning Tim to not interfere.

"Okay, fine. Just... just because you'll be taking Jason and..." Danny turned to look at Jason, all the way across the other side of the living room. "...maybe taking him home. I mean... he's pretty strong and all. But..." he gulped.

And Tim understood. Jason has been protecting the two kids for the past few months. In Danny's mind, Jason had probably done a better job than his mother.

"He has a home, too, Danny. And people who love him dearly." Barbara said softly. "He... had gotten hurt coming out here. It's our duty to get him back to health and take care of him. I'm... the Jason I know won't abandon you, and once he's back to health, I know he'll look for you again."

Danny's chin jutted defiantly, and Tim pretended not to see the swift dip or the tremble of his lower lip. "Yeah, I know. Besides, I figured if I keep in touch with y'all, I'll know where and how he is, eventually. Maybe you can help him find his beloved little Red bird."

Tim's vision suddenly tunneled onto Danny.

"--What??"

"Little Red Bird. He has this photo of a bird with red chest like, mid-flight. A polaroid photo. He had it for-- I dunno how long. Since I've met him, I think. I don't know where he'd found it or what it meant. I thought it was his pet or something." Danny explained. "He lost the photo a few days ago and... well... he's been like that since." he thumbed toward Jason. Still inert, not even responding to the little girl chatting and crooning. "Not like he was chatty from the start. But when he lost the pic, it's like he'd lost his will to live or something." he shrugged.

"Oh." Tim replied numbly. He caught Barbara's questioning glare. "I..." he gulped, torn between wanting to search through his archives in his laptop, and giving an explanation to Barbara. "It's... oh... I gotta show you." the former won, and he dashed to his bedroom, to his laptop. After what felt like forever (and after sending a print command to a printer), he finally found it.

He marched triumphantly with his laptop to Barbara, and pointed at the screen. "This," he said. "is a robin."

"Cheeky," Barbara smiled as the photo was printed out in A4-size letter - and a few others in smaller size because there is no photo paper available in the penthouse, and Tim wasn't planning on getting it - at least not now. "Robin, huh?"

"Yes, Puck." Tim said, smiling smugly. "He'd accompanied me on the shoots for this one. We were..." he gulped around the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "...I was making his portfolio. And then we saw the robins. This... mama robin was landing to feel her fledglings." he explained. "It was more of a lucky catch than anything... Jason loved it and asked for a copy in polaroid shape."

"Shit, boy, you took this photo?" Danny gave a low whistle.

"Language!" Helena hissed.

"Sorry, but,.. yeah, seriously. You printin' this out? He could be... I mean, maybe he'll be less sad..." he said.

"Yeah, I'm printing it out." Tim said, going to the printer and retrieved the bigger picture. "I'm not sure this will work, though... But..." he handed the picture to Danny.

"Oh no, buddy. If you're... if I'm right, then you should give him the photo." Danny said.

"Boys, I strongly advise we wait until Doc Leslie got here. If anything... if he lashed out or anything, the doc can sedate him." Dinah suggested. "That's... an amazing photo, Tim." she added, looking at the photo. "But yes, I think he has been in some sort of trauma-based catatonia, and thus the strong emotional ties to the photo. I would prefer to give him a little time..." she paused at Tim's glare. "Okay, I would like to observe him without uncommon stimuli for as long as possible, at least until Bruce gets here. Or at the oh-so-very-most until morning, since Bruce will get here by the crack of dawn and I expect most of us to be asleep." her tone of voice did not leave room for argument, and Tim shrank away a little. "Right now, I would like you - all of you - to wash up. Use the pool or something. Just wash up real good. And then we can get some lunch. Wait-- no, supper. It's almost 5 p.m."

"Can we get Thai?" Danny asked, almost innocently. Dinah glared at him. "I haven't had Thai in like, forever!"

Dinah huffed. "Fine. Just... all of you scrub up. Now!" she glared at Tim. "You too, Timothy. Or else I'm gonna throw you to the pool."

Tim almost laughed. Almost. Then his eyes landed on Jason, still huddled quietly at the corner of the couch in the living room with Ellie, Danny's sister, leaning on him comfortably.

"I'll get you home, Jason, I promise." he muttered under his breath, even if his mind is telling him that Jason's blank stare equals to a very tall, very sturdy brick wall around Jason's mind that might just be very, very hard to break through.

[miros-writing-blog]

003: Tape

AN: this took me… what, like 3 hours? Cool. Enjoy!

Warnings: character death mention, (child) abuse/harm mention, (other) abuse/harm mention, self-hatred, self-consciousness, snooping, cursing, panic attack/panic attack symptoms, drinking mention

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Warnings (detail?): alluding to (hinting at) character death, abuse and/or harm, child abuse and/or harm. Drinking/drunk, hang/hungover mention. Snooping for plot. Self-consciousness (1/10), intimidation (3/10), cursing (4/10), self-hatred (5/10), guilt (7/10).

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Summary: Ethan snoops a bit and finds something that Alex never wanted anyone to find.

~~

“Alex?” Ethan called into the dark room. No response. He turned on the light and looked around.

“Guess he’s not here,” he murmured to himself, taking a look around the room.

The room was nice. There was a closet in the far right corner and a dresser on the left wall, both colored a dark wood, and a large bed with black sheets. The walls were black, or perhaps a near-black sort of blue, and there were dark curtains on the window. There were few personalized items in the room - a few books on the dresser, another on the nightstand, small gifts on the window sill, odd articles of clothing thrown across a chair - but one item seemed to stand out. On the nightstand, behind the book, was a box - a small chest, really - that looked rather ornate. It was open, the only open thing in the room. Curious, Ethan made his way towards the small chest.

The chest was magical, the air around it a subtle type of heavy from all of its enchantments. (That probably should’ve been his first clue to turn away, really, but he didn’t stop to think about it). The inside of the chest was lined with red velvet, and sitting upon that was a small rectangular object with buttons on one side. Upon picking it up, Ethan realized it was a tape recorder. He hesitated, listening to see if anyone was coming - then he pressed play.

“December 10th, xx43, log 742.” It was Alex’s voice, speaking in Neltimin, the date only eight years ago. “Hey Aria, it’s me. As…always, uh… It’s almost dumb how I’m still doing this, but… Anyways, the girl that I told you about last time - Lacy, remember? - turned out to be - get this - working for my father. Big shocker, right?” He didn’t sound surprised or shocked at all. His tone was more deadpan, than anything. He sighed. “Still wants me to be a part of his ‘business empire’ or whatever the gossip calls it these days. It’s a shame that he always picks girls like her, the pretty ones with little mind of their own who want pretty, rich husbands to help them give them meaning in life. Guess that’s why I liked you so much, you just… weren’t that, weren’t like anyone I’d been around before. You’d probably hate girls like that. You seem like the type to… but then again, you thought similar things to me, and…so I shouldn’t assume what you would or wouldn’t like.” He gave a short laugh. “Assumptions, am I right? They’re why you…” He trailed off, humor gone, and he turned quieter. “Not that you have much of anything right now, but…still…the mindset is what’s important, I guess.” He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know, I’m just - rambling, like always. Not even that you, that you care or anything, you're… I’m just…” He sighed again. “Whatever,” he said, “that’s been done over a thousand times, you don’t need that again. I don’t.” A pause. “Whatever. Log end.”

“January 4th, xx44, log 743.” He sounded regretful, or maybe hungover. “Hey Aria, it’s me - you know when you get really drunk and do something really stupid? At the New Year's party I kind of… well, I think I made out with someone, but it’s kind hard to remember. Ginger keeps teasing me about it but making sure no one hears, so maybe it was them? Or maybe they saw? But I don’t know…-”

Ethan pressed the fast forward button.

“-ne 15th, xx46, log 901.” He sounded tired in this one. “Hey Aria, it's… me. Always is. Just saying sorry, again. I never…” He paused, then groaned in frustration. “No, forget it, you know that. Well, if you listened to these, which I doubt you would even if you could. Just - forget this, it’s stupid, why do I ever -” he growled in frustration then said -“ log end.”

“November 26th, xx46, log 902.” Ethan knew this date. This was the date he- “Aria, hey. Sorry for the absence. Joined a new guild last week and just met my new team a bit ago - well, most of them. One or two were out running errands when I came in, so I guess I’ll meet them later. I’m in my new room right now and it’s - fitting. They say they decorate the room to the color of your aura, did you know that? - you probably did, you were smart like that. Well, after the room is yours, you can do whatever to it - some put up wallpaper or posters or just repaint - but that’s never really been my thing. I don’t even know what I’d change it to, anyways. Reminds me of home, if I’m honest - the blacks, the dark blues, the Henderson blue… the black wood or the dark wood or the oak wood… all it needs are some chandeliers, heads-down servents, the whips, and Father’s disapproving aura and boom, I’m back home.” He gave a small laugh without joy, then fell silent a moment. “I don’t like it,” he said finally, his voice small. “But what would I change it to, anyways? Not like I’ve known anything different…” There was a sound and some muffled talking. A pause. “Looks like I’ve got to go. Dinner, and all. Log end.”

“November 27th, xx46, log 903.” He sounded… shook, for lack of a better term. “Aria? Aria, I - I saw… Are you-? No, I’d know if you were, but… Aria, one of my new team members, one of the ones who were out doing errands last night, I could’ve sworn at first that she was… that she was you. It sounds weird to say that, and maybe even crazy, but Aria, she looks exactly like you do. Or, did. Do? Well, the point stands, she looks like you. I don't… I don’t know… I don’t know why, or how, or what’s even happening. I just… I don’t know. I…” He made sounds like opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out and several distressed noises, but ultimately said nothing for a few moments. Then he paused, sighed, and went on. “…Anyways, just… thought you should know, I guess. Log end.”

“November 30th, xx46, log 904. Aria,” he said bluntly, “I think I’m in love. Ok,” he backtracked, “well, that’s a bit much, more like…” he made a hum of mild distress, “it just sounds so childish to call it a crush, but… I mean I guess?? I don’t know, Aria, but it’s just I heard him - yes, him, I know, it’s a surprise to me, too - laugh and just sephram saints, Aria, I could swear the room was brighter when he did. I’m not kidding, I think the room was literally brighter when he smiled. He might be a light user? I think the file said one of my new teammates was a light user. Is it him?…”

Alexander had had a long day, and just wanted to rest. He’d just left the training deck and was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally - he could really use a shower. And a nap. Both sounded utterly fantastic to his aching muscles, and he headed to his room to do so (he didn’t like using the locker room showers - it was too public and anyone could walk in. Better to do so in the privacy of his own bathroom).

He saw a light from under his door. Rarely did he turn on the lights in his room (given that he was a shadow user, darkness was of no problem with the night vision), much less leave them on. Someone was in his room. Ticked off and annoyed, he walked a bit faster, assuming some political snoop was digging through his things (you’d be surprised at the lengths journalists would go to get a good story). He entered his room and his stomach dropped so suddenly that he thought it’d plummet to the first floor of the building.

“…Aria? Aria I fucked up, I fucked up really bad Aria. I don’t - I don’t know -”

Ethan McCain was sitting on his bed, his back facing the door, listening to the most personal thing he physically owned. Fear and panic built up in his chest, a coil winding around his lungs tighter than a noose, making it hard to breath, hard to think - the words he knows being the only thought echoing in his brain, bouncing like a ball off the walls. He strode - not thinking, not feeling - towards the tape.

Ethan remembered this day - December 1st, three years ago, the day where he declared to himself that he’d hate Alexander Henderson forever, a hatred which lasted until only two months ago when he -

Ethan hadn’t even heard him in the hall, hadn’t seen the overhead light turn off, but had heard the heavy thunk of boots near him and all of the sudden it was dark and getting darker as Alexander Henderson plucked the tape recorder from his hands and slammed it back in the chest. Ethan looked up to see his eyes large and his aura glowing through, colors of red and blue and white and gold among the flurry of black shadowy tendrils. He seemed taller, bigger than usual, fear the main emotion in his large, glowing eyes, and inspiring the emotion quite thoroughly in the observer.

“Get. Out.”

Alexander growled - a deep, rumbling sound, barely even human.

In fact, Alexander didn’t even know if he had actually spoken in the first place. But the healer’s eyes widened, and didn’t need telling twice. He flew from the room, far away from Alexander, and Alexander was left alone.

“-mber that guy I told you about, the one with the smile and the brightness? I don’t know what I did - well, no, I do, I said something stupid and dumb and and mean, but I don’t know how - and oh saints Aria I fucked up, he hates me now, I fucked up Ar-”

Alexander closed the lid on the chest and the recording stopped. The room was silent save for his breathing, growing more panicked by the second. The coil around his chest was tightening, cutting into his lungs, making it hard to breath. He was shaking, shaking, his brain chanting he knows he knows he knows - he put a hand on the bedside table to steady himself, took a breath of air to calm himself… his knees gave out, his vision pulsing and swimming before him, his stomach lurching like he was about to vomit.

Oh joy, said a distant thought in the back of his brain, a panic attack. Just what we need.

The panic attack drowned out that voice pretty quick.