#worst damage to houses is the ones where trees fell on them and it was the weaker structures like barns that got crumpled and destroyed

[mothusband]

no storm surveyors came to confirm anything but after looking at the damage and talking with everyone who lives around my house my dad says they're pretty sure it was a tornado that hit saturday night. so 😬

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Chapter 2: Ashes (Wildfires to Rainstorms)

Read on ao3 (3k)

Vex wakes up to another morning in the watchtower. The smell of the old wood fills her nostrils, comforting and familiar. She can hear Trinket snoring softly from his dog bed. Vex sighs and pulls the starchy blankets over her head, not ready to face the day yet. But the sun is rising so it’s time to begin the day.

After a slow few minutes of waking up, she pads over to get breakfast for herself and for Trinket, the two of them eating side by side on the floor as Vex stretches out her legs. She learned the hard way her first year that if she doesn’t stretch her legs before hiking that she’ll wind up with the worst cramps the next day.

This deep into the summer, it doesn’t take long for the temperature to rapidly pick up. Vex is very much looking forward to when fall finally comes. But she’s more than able to deal with it until then. Trinket however, is not. 

It’s too hot today for Trinket to hike as far as Vex wants to so she fills his water bowl and turns on the small air condition unit. Immediately, he laid down in front of it and fell asleep, causing Vex to roll her eyes. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” Vex promises him before packing her backpack and heading out.

Vex has light supplies, just her climbing gear, some food and water, and a garbage bag in case she finds any litter. She knows these forests like the back of her hand, able to navigate without needing her compass. However, even the bright green canopy of the trees can’t protect her from the sweltering heat. By her second mile, she’s almost envious of Trinket, but it’s been so long since she’s got to hike like this that she’s not about to turn back. 

She’s hiking along the river, following it South. She has half a mind to investigate the wildfire she was told about on her arrival, but she knows she probably shouldn’t wander that far from the tower, let alone towards the fire. But she can’t help her curiosity, in three years of doing this, there’s never been a real wildfire. Sure there are little ones but they almost always extinguish themselves before doing much damage.

Fire has always fascinated and terrified Vex. She remembers getting the news that her mother had died in a house fire, the old house nothing but ashes. After the grief and devastation came a deep desire to know more about the element. Vax thought she was insane, spending hours pouring over books and videos of wildfires. But he can’t argue that it made her more than qualified for this job.

Just as Vex is about to turn back, a voice comes from her radio. Percy addresses her, “East tower, check in.” 

Vex sighs and pulls her radio from her pack. “You can call me Vex,” she responds. “I’m hiking South of the tower, along Red Run River.”

Percy doesn’t reply in a conversational tone, he’s all business as he says, “I see smoke to the West, by the lake.” 

The lake is a popular camping spot for through hikers, Vex knows so she tells him, “Probably a campfire that wasn’t put out properly. On my way,” Vex responds. “Over and out.”

With another sigh, Vex changes her course, resigning herself for at least a little while in the sweltering heat.

Vex finds some stepping stones to make her way across the shallow river. Her boots leave dirty footprints on their smooth surfaces. As she keeps walking, she thinks about that a bit too long. 

She remembers the first year she spent here, how she would spend hours upon hours exploring to get familiar with the terrain and where all of the landmarks on her maps are. It had been good for her, not that she would ever admit that Vax was right when he showed her the job posting. The months, years really, before coming out here had been some of the worst of her life. And then coming here…being alone and free, gods she felt like herself again. The first time since meeting him.

There are two names forbidden from being spoken aloud between her and Vax. His is one of them.

Before she can think too far down that rabbit hole, Vex comes across the source of the smoke. 

And just as she suspected it’s just a campfire that wasn’t put out properly. Thankfully the fire is still in its pit, the rocks are well stacked and the wood remaining is burned down to nothing but embers.

With a frustrated sigh, she sees candy wrappers and chip bags also littering the ground where two tents were obviously pitched. Most hikers here respect the land and take good care not to harm it, clearly whoever camped here didn’t have that mindset.

After picking up the garbage and stowing it into her backpack, Vex turns to the smoldering fire. 

She takes her water bottle out and drowns the pit in half of its contents. A smoky scent fills the air as she mixes it with a stick until the embers have stopped glowing. Then she kneels down in the dirt, touching the extinguished coals with her hand to make sure they’re cool, wiping the ash and dirt off on her pants as she stands. 

“Percy, the fire is out,” she relays through the radio. “Nothing to be concerned about, over.”

“Alright.” He is silent for a moment before sighing and asking, “Do you happen to know where the tool box in this tower is? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Uh,” Vex starts her walk back, taking a swig of water, “did you check the storage under the tower? Or under the bed?”

“Will do, thank you, over and out.” 

Vex rolls her eyes as she tucks the radio away, clearly he’s not interested in much conversation.

As she’s walking, she catches the scent of fire from further South. She frowns slightly, she shouldn’t be able to smell it this far up wind, that must mean it’s either bigger than they thought or farther North than they thought. Mentally making a note of that, Vex keeps walking. 

The next morning, Vex wakes up to Trinket shoving his nose against her neck, whining softly. 

She groans, trying to roll over, but he just whines louder and noses her back. With a sigh, she sits up, “Okay, buddy, come on.” She drags herself from bed just as the sun is rising and doesn’t bother to put on shoes or change from her pajamas as she opens the door to the tower and Trinket sprints down the stairs, wagging his tail all the way.

She follows after him with a yawn, plodding down the creaky steps. This early, the birds are just starting to sing, the sun just starting to warm the horizon. She plops down onto the last step as Trinket starts sniffing about the grass, searching for a place to do his business. 

Vex leans her head against the railing, listening to the birds and the rustling of leaves. If she listens close enough, it almost sounds like the crackling of embers.

There’s a supply drop today thankfully. She is very much looking forward to a replenishment of food in the tower, all that’s left are a few canned soups and cereal. One gets tired of that rather quickly. Not to mention that Keyleth promised Trinket some dog treats and knowing her, she also threw in a toy or two for him since she knew Vex couldn’t fit any in her backpack. And knowing her brother, he’s found some way to sneak something to her.

Trinket sniffs along the edges of the storage containers where an animal is presumably hiding. All it takes is a quick call of his name for him to leave the trail alone and come bounding back to Vex, happily accepting the pets he receives.

“Can we go back to sleep now, buddy?” Vex asks him with another yawn, digging her fingers into his scruff. 

Trinket barks softly and pushes past her back up towards the tower. Vex rolls her eyes and follows after him.

It’s mid afternoon now, Vex having finished her chores and the bit of work that needed her attention. She sits in the tower, legs kicked up on the table as she carves an arrowhead from a piece of wood she found yesterday. 

The radio crackles and Keyleth’s voice fills the tower, “East Tower please come in, over.”

Quickly Vex pushes her rolling chair over to the long wave radio, “I’m here, Keyleth, over.”

“Your supplies were just dropped off in the Yellow Rock supply box. The code for the lock should be written on your information sheet, over.”

“Did my brother send anything?” Vex asks.

“He did,” Keyleth tells her. “Just a letter to let you know that everything is okay. Be sure to get the supply drop before tonight, over.”

“Thank you, Keyleth, I’ll leave right now to get it, over and out.” Just those few words from Keyleth let her know that everything back home is alright. Keyleth would have said immediately if anything was wrong. 

As she stands, she whistles to Trinket who lifts his head immediately. “Want to go for a walk, buddy?” 

He jumps to his feet, wagging his tail happily as she collects her things. She brings an empty backpack, the hike is short enough that she doesn’t need anything but she’ll need all the space she can get to bring everything back. 

The hike to the supply box isn’t long and since she set out early in the morning, the heat hasn’t started yet. Trinket bounds along happily beside her, stopping every so often to sniff tracks. As she’s hiking, Vex takes out her radio. Her thumb hovers over the button, so far Percy has been nothing but professional. But if she doesn’t try to talk to him, then she might just go insane this summer with no one to talk to but Trinket.

So she stops stalling and lifts the radio to her mouth.“Percy, are you there, over?”

There’s a long moment and then, “I’m here, what do you need, over?”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re the only person I have to talk to for three months. I was wondering if you got a supply drop as well today.” 

“Yes, I did,” Percy tells her shortly. “I’m not sure how Keyleth managed it but I find myself with an almost overwhelming amount of licorice. I only mentioned that I liked them once.”

Vex chuckles, “That’s Keyleth for you. Do you know her well?”

“Somewhat, I’ve only known her for a few months.” Vex knows when people are concealing something, it’s obvious Percy is. And won’t that be exciting to figure out.

“Well she is dating my brother. His name is Vax. So I hope she has also given me plenty of sweets,” Vex smiles, watching as Trinket immediately halts his walking to sniff insistently up a sapling tree. As he does, Vex pauses to wait for him.

Surprise colors Percy’s voice as he replies, “Oh. I cannot believe I didn’t put that together. I feel rather stupid.” 

Vex laughs, “Don’t worry, darling, it can be rather confusing.” Without her meaning to, the endearment slips out, a word saved only for people close to her. Hopefully Percy doesn’t read too much into it. “She also promised Trinket some treats.”

“Trinket?”

“He’s my dog, he comes with me every year. Keyleth is rather fond of him. And he does very much enjoy hiking and playing in the river.”

“It must be nice to have company,” Percy responds, his tone almost shocking her with its softness.

“You do, you have me, whether you like it or not,” Vex chuckles. “I’ve heard stories of old rangers going insane without talking to someone. So please don’t go insane on me, darling.”

Percy laughs. He has a nice laugh. “I’m already insane, I’m afraid to report.”

The response shocks a laugh out of Vex, “I didn’t think you were capable of making a joke.”

She can almost see the snark on Percy’s face as he responds, “I am more than capable, I simply just choose my moments.”

“Well I look forward to seeing more of those moments,” Vex tells him. “But for now I will leave you and head to my supply box.”

“Of course, over and out.”

Vex tucks the radio back into her waistband, a glimmer appearing in her eye. She likes him, he’s charming and she does enjoy puzzles.

She clicks her tongue for Trinket and continues on her way to the supply box, the small smile not quite leaving her face.

Finish reading on ao3

[seungminsbaldspot]

Christmas with Seungmin

Pairing: Seungmin x reader 

Synopsis:  Seungmin wants to make this the perfect Christmas but everything he does to decorate or plan goes terribly wrong

Spoiler: "I've tried so hard this year. To make everything perfect you know? But everything just... messes up."

Word Count: 1904 words

Genre:  fluff

Warnings: no pronouns are used, no mentions of whether or not seungmin is an idol here but you can imagine he is or isn’t, cursing, established relationship(you share a house with him)

Note: my very first Christmas special, i hope you all enjoy it

December 1st: Twas the first day of December, and your boyfriend was eager to set up the Christmas tree. He was pulling all of the decorations out of closets and pulling boxes out of the attic. “Min, I didn’t even know you kept decorations up there.” He shrugged, “I keep lots of secrets from you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You laugh. “Sure Minnie” 

While Seungmin is pulling out the tree and putting it together, you are making dinner, as a thank you to Seungmin for all of his hard work. He was the perfect boyfriend. He knows how to treat you, and you know how to treat him. You two are the perfect couple. Seungmin always goes all out for holidays and birthdays, although his friends have informed you that before you came along, he was never into celebrating this much. He only did it because you liked to go all out. 

While in the kitchen, you hear a crash inside the living room. Thinking the worst, you rush into the living room, finding Seungmin squatting over something. Seungmin stands up and frowns, “Oh shoot. I loved that ornament.” It was a glass ornament that had the date that he asked you to be his partner You patted him on the shoulder, “No worry Minnie! I can get another made.” You say reassuring the sad guy frowning in front of you. He shrugged, “I guess, but it won’t ever be the same.” You smiled, “No, but it will have the same exact date on it and it will mean the exact same.” You say, trying to comfort him. He begins to say something, but then you hear your water boiling over, “Oh Shit!” You say, running off back into the kitchen. Seungmin sighs and gets the broom. He supposes that decorating the tree can wait for another night. 

December 9th: After the long work week, Seungmin and You finally put up some more decorations around your house. Seungmin digs out garlands and fairy lights to decorate some shelves with. You continued decorating the tree when Seungmin tried to decorate it, he broke a glass ornament and refused to touch it again, in fear of breaking another precious ornament even though you had told him that it was alright and that you could replace the ornament. 

Seungmin takes the garland and fairy lights and hangs them on a shelf in the living room. After putting one end of the garland on a hook, and moving to the other side to drape the garland, the other side of the garland fell off of the hook. Seungmin groans loudly, causing you to look away from your tree-decorating duties. 

"Everything alright, Seungmin?" you ask, putting down the ornament you were about to hang on the tree. Seungmin looks a bit frustrated but manages a sheepish smile. "Just the garland. Doesn't wanna stay on the hook." You walk over to him, trying to hide a smile. "Let me give you a hand." 

The two of you struggled with the garland for about thirty minutes. Each time you thought the garland was stay put, it would fall. “I’m one more fall of this garland to super gluing it to the shelf.” You laughed, “How about hot glue? Hot glue will come off and not damage our expensive ass shelves.” He looked at you weirdly, “Hey, look I had a Pokemon phase where I hot-glued Pokemon cards to my wall.” Seungmin side-eyes you but nods. “Weirdo.” He whispers under his breath, “But I’ll go get the hot glue.” 

December 16th: Now that your shared house with Seungmin was finally decorated up to Seungmin’s standards, as he is surprisingly picky about Christmas decor, you could spend this weekend celebrating the upcoming holidays. 

Seungmin and You have had this tradition that every weekend before Christmas, the two of you would have a bake-off. Sometimes you won, sometimes Seungmins won. But what can you say, you both enjoyed shoving cookies, cupcakes, and cakes into your mouths. This year, Seungmin wanted to only do cookies, as last year, Your home-baked Lemon cakes were to die for and Seungmin really wanted to win this year. Seungmin decided to bribe you with a whole year of free Seungmin hugs and kisses. You laughed at his bargaining but accepted. You could never say no to free Seungmin Hugs and Kisses for a whole year! 

“Okay, so I’m going to do classic chocolate chip cookies.” Seungmin states, One of the rules is that the two of you must make two different flavors. You nod, knowing exactly what flavor you are going to bake, (enter any flavor here, other than chocolate chip).

Seungmins pulls out the flour, sugar and salt, While you head to the fridge for the milk and eggs. The two of you work around each other, adding all of the ingredients to make the perfect batch of cookies.

You finish with your cookie batter before Seungmin, so you roll out the batter and create Christmas cutouts of the batter. Then you place the cutouts onto a baking sheet and gently place them into the oven. "Done!" You yell out. Seungmin scoffs, "Just because you put yours in the oven first, does not mean that your cookies will taste better than mine." He says, still needing the dough. You shrug, "Whatever you say, Min"

When you smell your cookies in the living room, you know that your cookies are done baking. You walk into the kitchen to find Seungmin just now placing his cookies onto a baking sheet. "Damn Minnie, My cookies are done and yours are just now on the baking sheet?" You tease, but Seungmin ignores you. "Don't worry little cookies, You will win this battle." He whispers to the dough, causing you to laugh.

You carefully take your cookies out of the oven and place them onto the cooling rack. Then you watch Seungmin place his baking sheet with his precious cookies in the oven. He takes off his oven mitts and wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the cheek. "Wanna watch a movie?" You nod, "As long as it's Jim Carry's Grinch!" He smiles, "Of course, It's simply the best holiday movie to ever exist." He says, pulling you into the living room.

Halfway through the movie, Seungmin jerks up, "SHIT!" Seungmin yells, rushing into the kitchen, " Oh shit," Your eyes widen, "The cookies." With the smell of your previously baked cookies and the enjoyment of your favorite holiday movie playing, you had totally forgotten about the chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

The smell of burnt cookies and chocolate waves throughout the house when Seungmin opens the oven door. "Damnit Damnit." He says, quickly pulling out the baking sheet, with his oven mitts. He throws the baking sheet onto the cooling rack. Quickly taking the mitts off, he examines the cookies. It only took a glance for you to know that the cookies were brunt. "I guess I'm the winner this year too, huh?"

Seungmin looks at the burnt cookies and then back at you, a mix of disappointment and amusement on his face. "Alright, alright, you win again," he concedes, shaking his head with a smile. "But just wait until next year. I'll come up with a winning recipe that will blow your mind."

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around him. "You always say that, Min. But for now, I guess I'll enjoy the victory and those free hugs and kisses for the next year."

December 24th: For the night of Christmas, Seungmin planned a little Christmas date for this weekend last week, so of course Seungmin wants to pick your outfit.

“I think that you’ll look good in this.” He says, pulling out some random clothes. You shrug, “Sure, But if we’re going to be outside I would like to request a jacket please.” You joke, Seungmin’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, I guess I will pick out a jacket for you.” He rolls his eyes and walks to pick out a jacket, He pulls out one of those standard puffer jackets and everybody and their mother has. “Good Enough?” You laugh, “It’s perfect.” 

Seungmin never tells you where he’s taking you on dates. You never quite know if it’s because he is winging the whole night or if he actually wants it to be a surprise, But at this point in your relationship, you don’t mind. You loved Seungmin and trusted him 100%,so whatever he had in store for tonight was going to be amazing. 

The two of you arrive at this park, decorated with beautiful lights for the holiday season. “It’s so pretty out here.” You murmur, Seungmin takes your arm, almost pulling you to these lit-up archways on a path. The two of you walked under these beautiful archways, looking around at all of the different lights. 

After a while of exploring this beautiful park, You started to shiver. “Want some Hot Coco?” Seungmin asks, You nod, “Sounds delicious right now.” He nodded, leading you to an open area, “I heard this place has some of the best hot cocoa around.” He says, making you excited to try this wonderful hot cocoa. 

When you arrive at the vendor, the man is wearing an apologetic smile, “Sorry folks, I don’t have any more hot cocoa.” You smile at the man, “Awh, Well That’s alright.” You tell the man, Who is still uttering apologies. You look over at Seungmin, whose face is adorning a solemn expression. “Don’t worry, Minnie, We can make some at home!” You say, pulling on his arm, pulling him back to your car.

Back at your shared home, You put on some water to boil. Seungmin looks slumped over sitting on the couch. "What's wrong, Min?" He sighs, "Nothing really." You knew that it was more than nothing. But you didn't want to pressure Seungmin, so you will leave him be for the moment to change into some cute and comfy matching Christmas pajamas you had bought.

You take the matching pair and throw them in his lap when you walk by him in the living room. "Put these on, and by then we can have some hot cocoa!" You say. He takes the clothes and goes into your shared bedroom.

By the time he emerges, the water is boiling. "Hurry Min! The water is done boiling!" You say, rushing him to be by your side. You pull out two mugs and start to dip the hot coco powder in each. Then you start to pour the boiling water into the power. While pouring the water into Seungmin'smug, you feel arms around you, giving you a backhug.

"I'm sorry" Seungmin mumbles into your neck, You finish pouring and place the boiling water down. Then you turn around to face Seungmin. "Whatcha sorry for?" You ask, He hasn't done anything. "I've tried so hard this year. To make everything perfect you know? But everything just... messes up." Your eyes soften and you hug Seungmin, almost surprising him. "Min! You have made this Christmas one of the most memorable Christmases that I've ever had. You mean the world to me and just being here with me right now is making me so fucking happy. There is nothing in this world that you could do that would make me not want to love you Kim Seungmin."

"Even if I killed someone?" You laugh, "Depending on the person."

ughht this was so cute im going to rot, also the thing about the pokemon cards hot glued to the wall.. yeah I actually did that. and no the wall is not damaged.

also notes, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

[pooepw]

87 - fun stream

Stream

I continued to play on the SP world that I made for CTE: 2 Resolution. I decided against playing any of the new modpacks I found, which were DawnCraft, All The Mods 9, and Prominence II, since I did not feel as though they were as good as CTE: 2. Although all of those other modpacks were a bit more fleshed out than the modpack I played, I still find the feeling behind the overhauls Mine And Slash makes to be more interesting than them. I will go over each modpack and why I did not like them as much in the following sections. As for what I did in my world, I continued to build my house. Not super exciting for a modpack that overhauls Minecraft into an ARPG experience like that of POE or Diablo, but I chose to work on this since the modpack is soon to be updated with a rebalancing patch along with patches to the quest system. This left me with one thing that would go unchanged: the huge fortress of a house I was building. I also constructed a simple mine today by using the veinminer mod that was in the pack. Very convenient.

Prominence II

Going in order of best to worst, I thought that Prominence II was a great experience for a modpack. It did have issues with getting it to run since LWJGL would not work with the latest patch, but that will likely be fixed because downgrading enabled the modpack to work. Getting into the content of the pack, I enjoyed the lorebuilding the pack did with the quest system, along with the plethora of quests to do that involved the different dimensions. This is where I think this modpack has a leg up against CTE: 2, but the gap will be filled as CTE: 2 is fleshed out more by the developers. Where Prominence II fell short for me was the build system. When I saw that this modpack had a talent tree, I first thought, "This must be where all the ARPG enjoyers are going for their Minecraft ARPG experience fix," but after closely examining the tree, there was not much to the tree itself. Every node was a simple passive, other than the nodes furthest out from the center. As to give more understanding, the way that much of the damage works in this modpack is that there are elemental damage types that are embedded within weapons as well as physical and ranged damage. I thought that the simplicity of the nodes were more suitable for a leveling system rather than a talent tree, with many of them being something along the lines of "Increase ____ damage type by #%" and do something else simple like +5% spell critical damage. I did not go too far into the modpack, but I do not think that I saw much else in terms of building a character.

TL:DR - Prominence II was a good modpack, I just thought it was too simple with the talent tree and character building.

All the Mods 9

This modpack is an iteration of a group of modpacks. I think I remember playing the very first iteration of the modpack a while ago, as well as the spinoff All the Magic: Spellbound, which I got really far in. All the Mods 9 was not a bad modpack by any means. In fact, I really enjoy modpacks that have a high variety to do. The only problem that I really had with it was that I did not really feel like playing this kind of modpack. It feels like a modpack that I should not stream but just play when I feel like I just want to explore a large variety of mods. I played a rather small amount of this modpack thinking I was going to stream it instead, but now I think I will just play it solo.

TL:DR - All the Mods 9 is great! I just do not want to stream it.

DawnCraft

I played DawnCraft more than All the Mods 9 but less than Prominence II, and I did not really enjoy the experience. One thing about DawnCraft is the expectation that the player will constantly be switching perspectives with F5 since it is mainly to be played in 3rd person, and this was a feature I disliked. Honestly, this was probably the only feature I disliked. I know that this is really nitpicking and biased, but I simply do not like having to constantly switch perspectives in Minecraft, and it was totally necessary for this mod since your own attacks could not be seen in 1st person too well, but doing the ordinary Minecraft actions like chopping wood, placing blocks, and mining necessitated switching to 1st person. Maybe if the perspective system was changed to work like Skyrim this would work better since Skyrim just uses the mouse wheel, which is less intrusive.

TL:DR - I do not like having to swap perspectives constantly when playing Minecraft; I have played for over a decade and have never enjoyed playing in 3rd person. DawnCraft forces me to do so.

This is the end of my TED Talk about how to uninstall Minecraft. Please pick up your copy of Terraria as you leave.

[blinder-secrets]

False Employment

tommy shelby x maid!reader, 5,900 words

warnings: power play, dominance, nsfw

ao3 link

a/n: this is essentially the second piece in a maid series i’ve accidentally started, read michael’s here <3

When you were eight, you’d told your mother that you were going to be a dancer. Then a dressmaker, a poet, a horse-groomer. As a teen, you’d decided that you’d be a wife, just a wife, who’d raise the kids while your husband was away making fortunes, no doubt. Your mother had been happy enough with that idea, but it had soured on you. After all, you thought, why spend your time looking after others and not yourself?

In the end, though, you’d found work as a maid. A house-servant in black and white, cursed to parole the hallways of an estate that’d never feel homely, or private. The irony of it was not lost on you. Employed to look after people that weren’t even yours to look after, half the reasoning but triple the pay. At least this way, the work you did was profitable, and the money you made was saved in your own name. The catch, however, was that you hated it. And you hated it because you were frustratingly terrible at it. No matter how many times Frances taught you to fold the sheets, you got it wrong. Somehow. No matter how carefully you swept, or cleaned, or shined the child’s shoes, you missed a spot. You always missed a fucking spot. It’s like you were cursed, destined to be the worst possible maid in the Midlands, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The strangest part, of course, was that you hadn’t been fired yet. You’d hardly even been chastised. The most unbecoming maid in the history of housekeeping, and you still had your job. You were still paid more than the industry standard. Despite all you knew about him, it seemed Mr. Shelby, unlike most employers, was endlessly forgiving of his staff; it was only when you started to question why, that you realised that wasn’t entirely the case.

On the Friday, you’d been called to bring tea to the front sitting-room. You’d say it’s one of your least favourite tasks but, honestly, they all sit equally on the list of things that you hate to do. The dishes always clatter on the tray, rattling wildly as you take the stairs from the kitchen. The china is scolding to touch each time you go to pour it. The spout is short, the saucers fragile and ill-fitting. Really, there’s a lot less grace in serving tea, than there is in drinking it, and that day was no different.

‘Your tea, Mr. Shelby,’ you announced, once you’d wobbled through the doorway. The milk had spilt onto the metal, but the cups and teapot had stayed strong, thank God. ‘Where would you like it?’

He wasn’t alone, the aunt and his cousin were waiting with him, but only your cold-faced boss had acknowledged the arrival. He was stood by the window, picking a cigarette from his case, and had paused to give instruction that no-one else would offer. His gaze flicked to you briefly, then over to the low coffee table in the centre. ‘There.’

You obliged with a nod, before crossing the room to set the tray and its precarious contents down. ‘Should I pour you some, sir?’ you asked the cousin, hoping he’d say no, hoping he’d let you return to some other, more menial job. One that at least let you work without an audience. Instead, he nodded, and leant forward to hold one of the tea-cups up. Why he couldn’t just leave it there, on the flat surface, where no spills could do any damage, you didn’t know. He probably thought he was being helpful; tragically, he failed to take into account that you were the clumsiest tea-maid in the house.

The handle stung, as expected, the moment you took hold of it, but you were interrupted before you could even begin to pour.

‘Shouldn’t milk go first?’ he asked, continuing once you looked at him like he was wild. ‘In china, to stop it from cracking?’

‘Oh.’ You stuttered, straightening from your bend with the burning teapot in your hand still. ‘Of course,’ you answered. Of course there was some rule you had forgotten, some high-class superstition about breaking the bone china they could replace so easily. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you smiled, and set the tea down again. ‘Sorry, sir.’

When his cup was filled with an inch of the obviously critically important milk, you tried again to pour his tea. The aunt and Mr. Shelby were talking around you, but you were so focused on the act that their words fell away into rubble, just birds chattering between the trees. You lifted the pot again and poured as steadily as your arm would allow.

From the sudden hiss of breath between his teeth, it hadn’t been steady at all. You’d poured scolding tea onto the rim, the saucer, and finally, unfortunately, onto the pinstripe-stretch of his knee.

‘Fuck,’ you burst, ‘sorry.’ The pot went back to the tray quickly, your hands into the pocket of your apron. You hadn’t realised you’d sworn until it was too late to correct it. Another X against your name, surely. ‘Forgive me,’ you told him, pulling a cloth free to offer it, ‘it’s clean.’ At least, for your sake, you’d remembered that dabbing the stain yourself would be inexcusable.

He took it, sighing, and his mother rolled her eyes so plainly that you couldn’t have ignored it if you tried. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, though his scowl didn’t agree. ‘That’s enough anyway.’

You nodded, leaving him to pat awkwardly at the stain, balancing the cup and saucer in his free hand. What Mr. Shelby thought of the ordeal, you didn’t know. He was behind you, quiet, and impossible to see without turning entirely. The embarrassed heat that lingered in your ears was enough to keep you from trying. The last thing you needed, was another unimpressed look sent your way; you got enough of them from Frances.

When you shifted to face the aunt, she spoke before you could, insisting, ‘I can pour my own.’

You smiled before she’d even finished. ‘Course, ma’am,’ you offered with a shallow curtsey. Anything to get out sooner was welcome, even if it was a dig at your serving expertise.

Straightening fully, you smoothed the back of your dress and spun, facing the windows and the silhouette before them. ‘Will that be all, sir?’ you asked as you met his gaze —which had already been there, waiting. Taking account. He’d been watching you fuck up, yet again, probably wondering how you got the job in the first place. You chewed your lip as he deliberated. ��

‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, speaking through the cloud of his cigarette, ‘that’ll be all.’

Why you got off so lightly, made no fucking sense, but you weren’t about to stand there and argue with him. Instead, you dipped your knees again and left. It had felt like he’d watched you until you’d gone out of sight, through the doorway, but that was more likely to be a symptom of your over-thinking. Just jumping to paranoid conclusions like you always did, assuming his eyes had clung to your back until the door had shut them away.

By the next week, you were starting to think you weren’t paranoid at all.

Frances had caught you in the hallway between your room and her own, just as you were heading down for something to eat. ‘Mr. Shelby will be home soon,’ she said, stopping in front of you with a sure knot between her brows.

You watched her undo the tie of her pinafore. ‘Okay?’

‘He’ll need his coat taking, and offer him a drink, not supper.’

You balked. Why was she telling you this? ‘Isn’t that your job?’ you asked, feeling dread settle into your stomach. She was top of the hierarchy, the one he trusted most, you were a scullery maid at best. It’d make more sense for his boy to greet him, over you.

She sighed like you were at fault, and folded the pinafore over her arm. ‘He’s asked for you.’

‘He has?’

‘And don’t speak more than you should,’ she continued, ignoring your obvious alarm. ‘Just, just do as I would.’

But you didn’t know what she did. You never paid attention to what she did. ‘Do you think he wants to speak to me?’ you asked, following as she started towards her room. ‘Am I in trouble?’ Was it finally the chopping block for you?

She turned sharply, causing you to stumble to a halt. ‘I think,’ she stressed, ‘that he wants his coat taking.’ Then her door opened and she shut herself inside, leaving you to stand aimlessly in the hallway.

With little else to do, you made your way downstairs to wait within hearing distance of the front door. It didn’t take Mr. Shelby long to require your services, but it did take just long enough for you to think yourself into a panic. No, not a panic, it was more of a steady confidence. A certainty that he had asked for you, specifically, so that he could tell you to work harder. Better. So that he could get you alone, and threaten a cut to your wages if you didn’t stop pouring tea onto his guest’s laps. It was the only plausible reasoning you could settle on.

When he stepped into the entry-way, your heart was beating hard enough to trick your mind into labelling it as excitement. A twisted bout of adrenaline at the thought of being fired. You’d have laughed if you weren’t trying so hard to be professional, instead, you kept your face serious. ‘Good evening, Mr. Shelby,’ you started, moving from your post to meet him. ‘Can I take your coat?’

You thought you saw his lip twitch upwards, but it was redirected into a short nod. ‘Frances changed the rota,’ he said, though it was obvious. He turned, showing you his back, and you pulled the collar from his shoulders before you could overthink the motion.

‘She did, sir,’ you agreed. Don’t talk too much. Don’t talk too much. ‘Have you had your hair cut?’ you asked, unable to stop once you’d noticed the close shave at the back of his head.

He faced you again, letting the coat peel from his arms until he was separate, and you were left to wrangle the heavy fabric alone. To no surprise, he didn’t answer your question. He didn’t even remove his cap. Instead, he stared, squinting slightly, then held the briefcase out for you to take.

You were running out of hands to be useful with. The folded coat was thick enough to render one arm useless, and now his case occupied the other. ‘Would you like something to eat, sir?’

‘No,’ he answered, too quick to have really considered it. Then he looked down, eyes on the leather gloves he was removing, and asked, ‘What’s your name?’

‘[Y/n], sir.’

He repeated it once. Rolled it over his tongue and out again like he was testing for its flavour. Analysing its worth, though he had surely heard it a hundred times before.

Your adrenaline had finally been replaced by fragile nerves. The silence felt like an open invite for critique, and you’d rather have it filled with the forbidden small talk than let it begin. ‘Would you like me to fetch Char—‘

‘Have you lit the fire in my office?’ he asked blankly, interrupting you as he lifted his eyes to yours. The blue alone was enough to quiet you. His stare was more intimidating than luxurious; if he had been watching you as you thought he had, you weren’t sure that was a good thing anymore.

‘No,’ you stammered. ‘Should I have?’ It was dark already, but you hadn’t noticed the cold yourself. ‘Should I do it now, Mr. Shelby?’ you corrected, playing catch up on your responsibilities. ‘I’ll put these down.’

He shook his head and put the gloves, together, on top of his coat. Piled it all on you like you were a walking hat-stand. ‘Make sure you have next time,’ he said. ‘It’s winter.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’

It didn’t look like the apology meant anything to him, probably because you had rushed it out nervously, rather than sincerely. You didn’t often know what you were apologising for after all, just that you should be, and that you were normally at fault in the first place. So you said sorry quickly, before he could leave. And then, once he had done, turning from you after a final clinging-look, you said sorry again into the absent space he had left behind. Sorry, Mr. Shelby, don’t fire me, Mr. Shelby. I know I’m a terrible fucking servant, Mr. Shelby. He didn’t look back, nor did he ask for you again that evening. From your perspective, that was a win. It meant he hadn’t planned to stage an intervention, or to tell you off like a scorned school master. He had simply wanted you to do your job, well, Frances’ job, and somehow, you hadn’t massively disappointed. A few mis-placed questions hadn’t caused your downfall, and you found yourself hanging his coat with an easy smile. Perhaps you were valuable to him then, or at least acceptable. Perhaps you were employed for a reason.

When he next went away, you made sure to light the fire before he returned. Clever, you thought, well remembered indeed. What you failed to do, however, was time it well enough that it would be lit, burning strong and heating the room, before you had to meet him at the door. You were still knelt by the hearth when he arrived.

He cleared his throat once, from the doorway, and the noise was loud enough to startle you over the snaps of the fire. You sprang from the floor in one panicked burst of energy, turning in almost the same motion, moving faster than you felt you ever had.

‘Oh, Mr. Shelby,’ you panted. ‘Sorry, sorry, I was just finishing the fire.’

He was fully dressed still. Obviously, because you hadn’t been there to pull the outer layers from him as you should have. It wasn’t even a difficult task and you’d seemingly failed on your second try.

‘Have you been there long?’ you asked, hoping that if you kept him talking, and kept his eyes on yours, he would fail to notice the ash on your knees. The grey powdering of your tights and the hem of your dress, dirtied from kneeling too close to the bricks. It could be brushed away easily, but you hardly wanted more attention drawn to it. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He shrugged, not bothering with a real answer. The nonchalance made you nervous. He could’ve been standing there for seconds, or he could’ve been there for minutes, watching you bent in half, folded in front of the fire as you worked. Whether someone could even be judged on their fire-making skills, you didn’t know. But he seemed the type to be able to judge anyone for anything.

‘Sorry, I should take your coat,’ you started, crossing the room with your hands out.

‘It’s alright.’ He walked past you before you could even reach him, moulding into the study like he was a part of it. ‘I have to go out again, anyway.’

You nodded. He didn’t offer any other instruction, so you just stood there, dirty like a chimney-sweep, gormless like a fucking goose in the river. ‘Should I go, sir?’ you asked.

His case went on top of the desk, his body dropped into the seat behind it. He didn’t look at you, or answer you, he just pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it. You watched him inhale and exhale once before growing tired.

‘There are things I should be doing, sir,’ you said, hoping to sound more apologetic than rude. In truth, you were just bored. Uncomfortable. You couldn’t stop thinking about the ash on your knees.

It definitely wasn’t paranoia that time. His eyes finally found you, in the middle of the room, and drank you in like you were one of his racehorses. The flashy ones that he bought for the sake of money and money alone. You fidgeted under the weight of them, knowing the crystal irises were skimming every part of you that should’ve been ignored. Especially for a maid, for one of his house-servants. Your body should’ve been nothing beneath the rigidity of your uniform, and yet he scooped it out from between the seams, looked at the curves that you were sure had been hidden.

‘Do you live at the house,’ he started, voice low and catching, ‘or at home?’

‘The house, sir.’ You threaded your fingers together, kept them clutched over your pinafore. ‘I share the room next to Frances.’

The smoke pooled from his lips again, trailing after him as he leant back into his seat. He was looking at you down his nose, through his lashes, holding the silence just long enough for it become taut. Sharp enough to make your cheeks warm.

‘And when she hears the bell at night, do you hear it too?’

You frowned, but nodded. The service bells were mounted on the wall between the doors.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘next time it goes, I want you to see to it.’

His gaze was unmoving. Yours had been charmed into the same fate, unable to pull away from him. ‘Sir?’ you said, understanding his meaning, but not believing it in the slightest. There was no innocent reason for him to switch orders like that. The older woman had always covered the night work, as infrequent as it was.

He cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes in one quick pulse of intent. ‘Let Frances have her rest, eh?’

It was either a promotion, or a proposition. You had neither the gall or the desire to ask which. ‘Of course, Mr. Shelby.’

After that, your encounters with him had remained short and indifferent. You took his coat, brought him tea, whiskey, followed orders when he gave them. You’d watched him, watching you, every time, and thought nothing more of it. Or at least tried not to. You never saw him interact with other staff, so you couldn’t dispel the idea that he treated you any different from them; he could’ve held all of his employees under the same searing gaze and you wouldn’t have known. Frances had commented on his favouring of you, claiming ‘he’d ask for you over anyone else’, but she had seemed relieved all the same. She liked her work, but she liked free time just as much. His request to switch you to the night-calls, however, had been a dormant one, an almost pointless one, because he’d never rang. Never asked anything of you once he’d taken supper.

At least, he hadn’t before now, right now. This very moment. You’d been dragged from your sleep by the dull clanging of the service bell, and now you’re hot-footing down the stairs with your pinafore barely fastened. What the allowed time for dressing is, you have no idea. You’re trying to rush, but there’s no way of knowing how long it has been, or how presentable you are. The only comfort is that he’s yet to ring the bell again, so you obviously haven’t been long enough to make him impatient.

The door to his study is shut, but there’s nowhere else he’d be, so you knock once you’re stood in front of it. You hear him cough from the other side, before saying, ‘Come in.’

Right then. Here you go. You take a few steps into the room, just enough to be present, but not intrusive, and force a quiet breath before speaking. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Shelby?’ you ask, starting as he shows no sign of doing it on your behalf. He hasn’t even looked up to acknowledge you.

He’s leaning on the end of his desk, staring into the embers of the once lit fire, with a half-filled tumbler in his hand. His jacket’s off, shirt sleeves rolled and shoved to sit above the elbow. If it weren’t for the waistcoat, still fastened and adorned with the chain of his pocket-watch, he’d look almost scruffy. Off-guard. ‘So,’ he says, ‘you heard the bell, then.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And you don’t mind the disturbance?’

‘No.’ Though, if he’d brought you down just to test the mechanism, you would hardly be happy about it. ‘Is that all, sir?’

He snorts, following it with a sip of whiskey. The motion causes the gold band around his bicep to catch in the lamplight, glinting at you. A lighthouse through the dark. ‘You don’t get bored of saying sir?’ he asks, finally flicking his eyes in your direction. ‘You say it more than the others.’

Your brows sink together, frowning before you can help it. You weren’t aware there was any other thing to call him, or that sir had a quota, one that you were seemingly well over. ‘Am I wrong to address you as that, Mr. Shelby?’

Quietly, he stands from his lean and tips his head back to finish the final portion of his drink. You watch his neck against the light, follow the whiskey as it travels down his throat. Once it’s empty, he turns to face you with his arm limp by his side, glass dangling in his palm. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head half-way, ‘call me what you like.’

You catch a whim in the dim-setting, a spark of courage from the fireplace. It’s like the quiet of the house, the certainty of your solitude together, is daring you to test the bounds of your employee-boss relationship. His lingering pause gives the same effect, his blank stare waits to be challenged.

‘Not Tommy, though, sir?’ you ask, wanting to smirk with it, but missing the moment. Or rather, losing the courage as soon as the name’s left your lips.

His chin lifts a fraction. ‘No, not that.’

Tommy is too personal, too close to him. The faint hope you had, that he’d allow you to say it, is squashed into the rug beneath his feet. Without asking, he holds the glass up, arm straight and pointed toward you. You understand his meaning well enough and cross the room to take it from him.

‘Do you often wake a maid, just to pour your whiskey?’ you ask from beside the drinks cabinet. The decanter is there, ready, un-topped and waiting. You fill his glass a quarter, and then a quarter more after a pause of consideration. It doesn’t seem like an evening for single measures.

He doesn’t answer until you’re back in front of him. ‘No,’ he admits shamelessly, leaving you yet another silence to fill.

‘Just me then, sir?’

He nods. ‘Yep, just you.’

He takes the glass and lifts it for a drink. By the time he’s swallowed, and set it down again, you’re two steps back, waiting in the middle of the rug. Anxious for the next order. You’d hoped that the late hour would’ve made him more accessible, more willing to drop the formalities and pretence of your relationship. Instead, it’s made you all the more aware of them. All the more sensitive to the ladder of power between the two of you, and the way he manoeuvres it. He seems so easy, so comfortable, unapologetic of his status and the benefits that it gives him. He can walk the line without risk of misstepping, because he’s the one who sets it.

‘Do you like your job, [y/n]?’ he asks, sounding as if he knows the answer already.

You chew the reply over in your head. As lucky as you’ve been so far, the outright truth might finally throw you into the cold. ‘I like the company,’ you answer, ‘the people.’

He pushes a laugh through his nose, amused but barely smiling still. ‘Didn’t ask you that.’

No, but you won’t lie to him. ‘I’m terrible at my job, sir,’ you say. He surely knows that as well as you do, maybe that’s the reason for him calling on you. It’s time for the meeting you’ve been dreading. The conversation was here at last. ‘In all honesty,’ you tell him, ‘I don’t know why you’ve kept me on.’

Sighing, he half-sits on the desk again, arms folding across his chest. ‘You think you’re that bad?’

‘Awful, sir.’ The added responsibilities have done nothing to improve your prowess. His extra requests have just given you more things to misplace, more damages to cause. ‘Why have you never said anything?’ you ask, adding a ‘sir’ at the raise of his brow. ‘Most people would’ve docked my wages by now.’

He blinks once. ‘Do you want me to punish you?’

The heat it sends up your neck is scorching, embarrassing. For a moment, you forget that he could mean it plainly, that he could speak as an employer and an employer alone. If he had any other expression, you’d be able to validate that, but he’s stoney as ever, waiting for a response like he’d simply asked for the time. ‘No, sir,’ you manage. ‘I just wondered why.’

He takes a sip before answering, hissing the whiskey between the set of his teeth. ‘You know why,’ he says, watching his hands for once, giving you respite from his stare. ‘You look at me just the same.’

‘I do?’

You don’t know why you’re asking, because you’re already in agreement. The self-indulgent glances you’ve taken of him were for the exact same reason you had hoped he looked at you. It wasn’t judgement, but hunger. You had thought it silly to imagine he felt that way too. Maybe men were men after all, easy to read regardless of status, free to want as they liked, but not without the worry of consequence.

‘I don’t want to misunderstand you, Mr. Shelby,’ you say carefully, speaking slow enough to set your thoughts straight. ‘Why do you employ me still?’

You’d expected bravado in reply, but his eyes are on the glass and his voice is taut. ‘I can’t,’ he states. He knows the reasons as well as you do. The chains that bind him, the ones that keep both of your roles in place. There are rules in this house, things that can’t be changed for desire’s sake and he’s counting on you to respect them; the sheer fact that you’re here, alone with him in the middle of the night, proves that his willpower is faltering. He expects you to make up for what he lacks.

The irony, of course, is that you’ve never been any good at meeting expectations. You feel your heartbeat in your skull, right behind your ears, as you take a step forward. ‘Can’t say,’ you challenge, ‘or can’t act on it?’

Another step and you’re an arm’s length away from him.

He puts the glass down and faces you steadily, like he’s flicked the switch back into place, like he’s got cold, iced water in his veins again. ‘You’ll tempt me in my own house, eh?’ he chides, pushing it through a smirk. ‘So quick to be a whore.’

‘I’m not a whore,’ you answer, ‘I’m a maid.’ You chance it and put a hand to his waistcoat, pinching the edge of it between your fingers. He doesn’t stop you. You’re invincible then, you could do anything in the world, and he still wouldn’t think it reason enough to fire you. ‘You don’t seem like a man to ignore his wants, Mr. Shelby.’ Indulge while you can, taste what you’ve been thinking about for so long. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help,’ you purr, ‘then it’s surely my job to do it.’

He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he’s ran out of words. Maybe they’d just take him further from what it is that he wants. Now that you both know it, there’s no reason to discuss. You may be terrible at housework, but men have never been a challenge, you could never fail at something you enjoyed so thoroughly.

Standing, he takes you by the wrist and pulls your fingers free of the waistcoat. He holds your hand in front of your face like you’re a caught criminal. ‘Go back to bed,’ he says, bluntly enough that you almost turn and run. But you were so close to the impossible, so close to tipping over the line, that adrenaline catches you instead.

‘Why?’ Your brows pinch, your manners forget themselves in the disappointment. ‘You suddenly have morals?’ you ask, teetering on laughter. ‘Shame?’ He could kill a man, but fucking his maid is where his ethics hardened. Where they steeled to a stop.  

His jaw sets. For someone so familiar with staff, and giving orders, he’s struggling to put you in your place. You know it’s coming though, you can see the threat behind his eyes.

‘Are you scared, Tommy?’ you taunt. ‘Worried we’ll be found out?’

It was a risk, but it paid off, and he switches the play so easily into his favour, that the wind is knocked out of you before you can piece together what’s happened. He’d pulled you forward, then past him, so that your thighs are against the edge of the desk and his chest is pressed along the length of your back. His arms are either side of you, palms flat on the wooden top. ‘Is that how you want it?’ he bites, putting the question to your neck. Down the collar of your uniform. ‘Ay? Against the boss’s desk?’

‘If that’s what suits you.’

He puts a knee between yours, pushing your legs just far enough apart to feel like he’s predator and you’re prey. Like your body is his to bend, to set in place and enjoy. ‘What?’ he asks, breath hot and liquored by your ear. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

You clear your throat, willing your voice to strengthen. This was what you’d initiated, after all. This is the side you’d asked to see. ‘If that’s what suits, sir,’ you say again, stressing the ‘sir’ like it’s the key to it all, the fuel under the fire. By the way his breath shudders against you, you’re starting to think it is.

He exhales again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He’s quiet with it, like the thought had escaped without him realising.

‘I want to,’ you insist. You lean forwards slightly, curving your lower back upwards and into him. ‘You want to, sir.’ It was obvious enough. The extra work, the lingering stares, the hardness growing against the back of your thigh —it all lead to one thing, to wanting, lusting. To favouring desire over anything else.

His hands lift from the desk-top to your waist. Taking the bait, then, making it his.

You turn between them, not caring that the motion has skewed your uniform, twisting the skirt beneath his hands until it’s sat, bunched, at your hips. It would have to be moved eventually, taken off entirely if he had the time. ‘If you take any longer,’ you say, ‘the house’ll wake up, Mr. Shelby.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts you as he answers, putting you onto the desk, and himself between the spread of your legs. ‘And you’ll have duties to attend,’ he says, looking over you, rather than at you. His gaze is foggy from the need. You hum in agreement, playing the game, following his lead as you’re paid to. When his nose finds the space beneath your earlobe, his lips ghosting the edge of your jaw, you melt. You pour into him like scorching gold. ‘I’ll have to have you now,’ he decides, ‘while you’re off the clock.’ The words rumble out of him, low and careless, shouldered by a kiss.

You close your eyes, holding his biceps to keep you upright. ‘If I’m off duty, should I call you sir, or Tommy?’ you ask, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

His mouth opens against your neck, hot and possessive. His lips drag down to the base of your throat before he replies. ‘Are you a maid,’ he asks, panting into the skin, ‘or a whore?’

A whore, you think. He’d never kiss his wife this way, would never have relations like this with any other member of staff. You purl against him as his hand goes between your thighs. ‘Whatever, sir,’ you breathe, ‘I’m whatever you want.’ Right now, you’re a torched flame, you’re a white hot coal, split apart by the heat. His fingers move like he’s known you before. ‘There,’ you tell him, sighing as he finds that tight bundle of nerves through the cotton. ‘There, sir.’

When he kisses you on the mouth, you’re almost surprised enough to reject it. You had wrongly assumed he would avoid kissing you like a lover, but his tongue swept between your lips, pushing in to find yours, and then the thought had gone entirely. You kiss back like you’ve been starved of it, your arms around his neck to ensure that he’ll stay.

‘I imagined it like this,’ he pants, pulling back to say it into your cheek. ‘From the start.’

Really, you want to ask, right from the beginning? But instead, you moan and curl into him, spine mirroring the path his thumb had taken across your clit. ‘I didn’t,’ you breathe, humming as he repeats the motion. ‘I imagined more fucking.’

His hand pulls away fast enough that you regret saying it, but he speaks so urgently that you don’t have time to mourn the loss. ‘Take them off,’ he says, already starting on the fastening of his trousers. ‘Now.’

You do as you’re told, unclipping the garters from your tights, so that you can push your underwear down and over your knees. He’s back against you before you can shake them from your ankles.

‘It’s just a fuck,’ he says, with one hand on himself, and the other on the bare bone of your hip. ‘Alright?’

You nod, meeting his gaze with the same rushed sincerity. ‘I know.’ You hadn’t doubted that for a second. You’re after the same thing he is: relief. A purge of the tension that he had been building between you, a break from the questioning of ‘what if?’.

‘Just a fuck,’ you repeat, desperate now the heartbeat pulses from your head to your toes. Now it thumps from you, to him. You’re sure he can feel it as he presses into you.

He groans, savouring the sensation, and lets his hands stray to grip your thighs. ‘That’s what you wanted?’ he pants, rocking his hips forward again. ‘That answer your question?’

You lie back, over the newspapers and the letters. Let him fuck you like you’re just another object on the desk. ‘Yes,’ you sigh. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ It not only answered your question, but clarified another that you had yet to consider. You knew now, why he employed you still, but you’d discovered why you worked for him, too. Why you kept the job you hated, why you hadn’t quit after failing so many times. ‘It’s this,’ you tell him, ‘it’s for this.’

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: Pet whump; dehumanization; conditioned mindset; classism; some nasty coping mechanism; food whump/forced diet; restrains; 

...Sweet Pea stops banging on the door when it actually hears someone coming. He has been screaming until his voice becomes hoarse, from the second he was shoved in there, alternating between begging and demanding to be let go.

But now that someone is actually coming… He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to see them, especially not that man. Young Master was bad enough - Stealing him from Master, making him shut down and forcing him in the car… - but that man, that man was worse. There was something wrong about him.

It wasn’t just that he was a peasant, someone who should never have a pet like him, and that was daring to take him from Master, no. That man was off. Sweet Pea pressed his heels on the floor when he was dragged, making the man fight him every step of the way, especially after Young Master stopped at a little sign saying ‘No Farlan Zone’. But that’s when he saw it, as the man frowned as he struggled, revealing a roll of sharp teeth, eyes that are a little just too green, a faint smell he cannot place. Wrong, wrong, wrong, every fiber of his body screams.

...He lost it for a second, and the man made a big progress on pushing him towards the house. He went back to fighting even more - he hated it here, he wanted to go back, how dare these people take him? These fucking peasants, living like a fucking ogre in the middle of a forest… 

Those thoughts kept the fear at bay, a placid, but fragile, surface of anger that kept all of his panic hidden.

Still, the man managed to drag him out inside the house, where he saw someone familiar… He recognized that pet. He did. He saw pictures, the pitch perfect hair, falling in white curls around the freckled face… A good pet, like him, who once belonged to his Master. And what not… if he dug further up on his memory… He could remember him from the school. The prodigy of the musical side. 

He fell limply. These was… where the pets Gerard discarded went to, then? But… Master didn’t say anything about sending him away, and he would, right? Was this… a test? or maybe he just didn’t care enough… after all, it was his son who took him. He would steal from his father, would he?

The pet made some weird gestures, Sweet Pea didn’t understand why. But they meant something to the man dragging him.

“...This is Sweet Pea. He will… stay with us for a while”

The man tries to appear cheerfully, and the pet gestures again.

“...Because he isn’t happy about it. It’s like a sleepover, except he has no choice” He narrows his eyes “No, of course I didn’t know. I would have told you and Blue about it”

...Blue. So there is one more here, and that is pet name. He whimpers, and the man’s grip softens a little, so he takes that chance and pushes him off to run for the door, but it has been locked.

No, no, no, no please, open up... But it was in vain. As the man tried to approach him - with scissors, fucking scirssors - he curled away in fear. He couldn’t let himself be damaged - he was Master’s property, not for anyone to hurt. He didn’t believe it when the man said it was just for the retrains… But he waited until his feet were freed, and he dragged the first thing he could get ahold of, clumsily throwing a chair at him. He didn’t quite hit, since his hands were till tied up, but he got some time to run through the house.

In the living room, he found himself face to face with the other pet - must have been a Mutt of the worst kind, his face awfully scarred. And Sweet Pea screamed, terrified of that happening to him, as well.

He didn’t realize he was led right onto a trap, as he ran upstairs and hid in a closet. He stays there… For a while. When he finally gets the courage to go out again, when the house seems silent and dark… He tries to escape again. But the bedroom door was locked. He noticed some food and water had been left for him. He didn’t dare touch any of the food. It was nothing he was allowed to eat, anyway. He took only some small water sips, afraid it was drugged. 

He didn’t feel anything different, but didn’t want to risk his luck. He tried to sleep in the closet but it was small and cramped, even though it felt safe. He… decided to sleep on the bed. He was a pet, he wasn’t supposed to. But then again, this wasn’t his Master so why should he care?

...He… Stopped near the window. The curtains were open, for once. He didn’t resist peeking outside… 

The stars were beautiful, as always. Even more so here, surrounded by a sea of trees and alway from the city lights that surrounded Master’s house. And they blinked in the distance, carrying the weight of something he had lost and forgotten.

That’s when he finally allowed himself to cry, sobs echoing and getting lost in the silence of the woods. He cried until he felt empty… And almost in peace.

He curled up and on a blanket, not really caring about punishments anymore, and fell asleep.

He woke up to a soft morning light, and a knock on his door. It made him jump awake, grabbing the closest thing he could find - a bedside lamp - to defend himself with. In truth, it was just to appease his anxiety. He wouldn’t dare hit a person, no matter how lowly and filth.

“...Morning, dear” The man said, with a soft smile. Sweet Pea flinched, backing away against the wall. He had another tray, and smiled sadly when he saw Sweet Pea hadn’t touched the other one.

“...I… Want to apologize for yesterday. I was not prepared for this at all… But I guess is no excuse” He says, setting the trail down “...I guess we started on the wrong foot. But I think we should try and talk this through. I’m-”

“Take me back” He demanded, with as much authority as he dared to use, shaking like a leaf as he held the object. If the man was afraid, he didn’t show. He probably looked pathetic like this “Take me back, take me back to Master”

“...I’m sorry, love. We can’t do this now. It’s important-”

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me love” He shouted, and to his surprise... the man… nodded.

“I apologize. A habit I guess, since my boys like it. But I’ll watch out for it” He smiled still, disturbing and creepy and awful and, and, he hated here, hate here.

“Take me back. Take me back, I don’t belong here. I’m Master’s property, please, please”

“...Sweet Pea… I know this is scary… But trust me, we are trying to help you-”

“No, no, no!” He shouts, throwing the lamp away. It breaks on the side, and he regrets it immediately, as now he didn’t have a lamp anymore and there was glass on the floor. A very quick flash passes his mind, a time where he was forced to dance over the broken shards. He pushes it away, under the surface of anger “Shut up, shut up, take me back”

...The man still didn’t seem bothered, but he hated that more. He was being bad, so bad, and the man had that calm, mocking, scary fucking face. He clenched his fists.

“I don’t want to be here” He screams, knowing pets don’t have wants “I’m not going to obey you. I’m not a pet for someone like you. I’m from the best academy, I’ve been trained for years, I’m not going to just bend down a for a simpleton such as you”

...And the man lifted an eyebrow. 

“...That’s… A lot of classism for someone who is technically under me” He seems… disappointed.

...And Sweet Pea gasps, opens his mouth… But what can he possibly say? He is lower than the lowest of men. Yet he is better than the other pets, made to serve men like him. The man shrugged, tilting his head a little.

“Sorry. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s all man-made bullshit anyway. Want to eat something? You must be hungry after yesterday”

He shook his head, crossing his arm and looking away, back at the window. Is good because… Because to him it looks like he is being dismissive. He is actually looking out the window. Sunlight, sunlight. He hopes he isn’t locked away from it.

“Master would never allow me to eat that”

“Well he isn’t here is he?” He doesn’t look, but feels the smile on his voice. No, no good, no good. It 's a test. He knows this game.

“...Are you proposing me to be bad? That’s not gonna happen, I will not fall for your tricks, peasant”

He looks this time, and again, he gets eyebrows raised and a shrug.

“Well… Can you tell me what you can eat? I can try to adapt it for you. Haru is a really good cook, I’m sure he can pull it off”

...This… This made his guard crumble, just a little, as he let his arms down, frowning. Was he… really going to adjust things this easily? It… It should be a test, right? Maybe this was all a test. Master testing him to see if he would remain loyal and good? But… Gerard had never pulled anything like that before. He was usually very clear about his rules. And if it was a test… why would the man give up that easily? Why would he make any change to accomodate a pet?

He bit his lips, he felt blood.

“Hm… Ahnh… Okay” He whispers, going through the list of foods. The man smiles, and sits on the bed beside him. At a space he feels… safe, at least. As safe as you can be on a room with someone you don’t trust.

“...No sugar? Like none? Ever?”

“...He gave me cake!” Sweet Pea smiled proudly “...Once”

The man’s expression is… Sad?

“Well, for now, I’ll get you some fruits so you don’t go hungry. I’ll do what’s possible to follow that… But, just so you know… There is no rule about that, here. You are allowed to eat whatever you want” He then smiles, chuckles “...Well, Blue isn’t allowed coffee. Not that he listens”

Blue. He only saw that pet for a second, staring at him from behind the sofa. The image still haunts him.

“...Is that why he has those scars?” Sweet Pea hugs himself, slightly more confident after… After the man seemed at least willing to respect Master’s Gerard’s decisions a little.

“...No. Blue has a messy past. He was owned by some really cruel people”

“He must have been a really bad pet to end up like that”

...He catches a brief, brief sigh from him, before he puts back the soft expression.

“...Nah. He is a sweetheart. Those were only bad people”

“Bullshit” Sweet Pea whispers, still hugging himself. The man decides to drop that subject.

“Hm, I… I’m not confident about letting you out of the house yet, so… I’ll allow you out of the bedroom when I’m home, but when I’m not, I’ll have to keep you locked for now. I hope that’s fine. Again, just for now” ...The man seems nervous “But it’s a matter of your own safety. Temporary.”

“...Bullshit. Do what you want” he looks away and refuses to answer anything else. He knows he is a prisoner here. He has no intention of even leaving his room, unless it is for escape. At least there is a window.

[novelconcepts]

for the prompt, please do dani and jamie with 22 thank you :)

prompt: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches

Jamie can’t remember the last time she needed someone to tend her cuts and scrapes. Can’t remember, even, the last time she wanted as much from another person. There’s something too vulnerable about holding out an open wound and saying, Here. Please. I can’t do it alone. 

Jamie can do it alone, is the thing. Has done for so long, she’s forgotten what it was to want another person’s skin brushing her own, another person’s eyes concerned for her well-being. It’s become second-nature, pushing all of that aside. How many times has she wandered into the kitchen, a cloth pressed firmly to a torn-open patch of wrist or palm, and scoffed at Owen’s worry? How many times has Hannah strolled into the room to find her bracing an ice pack against a freshly-bruised knee, rolling her eyes heavenward at her own clumsy misfortune? It’s natural, courting injury as she maneuvers the grounds. Almost easier than it should be. 

She’s never wanted anyone to fix it for her. Never trusted, if she’s honest, anyone to have the touch. People are too soft. Too twitchy about doing damage. As if there’s any helping a thing like that.

She’s never wanted it--

But Dani, meeting her in the doorway of the greenhouse, has an expression she’s never seen before. Not open worry, not nauseous distaste--an almost perfect, steady calm. 

“Let me.”

No question mark at the end of the sentence. No hopeful sway to Dani’s hips, no itchy pull of Dani’s fingers along the elbows of her own jumper. Dani’s face is set, determined, almost as though she’s been waiting for this day since the first time their eyes met. 

“No need,” Jamie says, though her head is pounding. Dani is plainly unimpressed. 

“C’mere. Sit down.”

She can’t explain why she obeys; her body seems primed to follow instruction, perhaps as evidence of a concussion. There is a split above her brow where a tumbling branch caught her just right, and privately, she’s relieved--that it was her standing beneath the tree as the wind jerked it out of place, and not one of the kids. Jamie had been quick enough to dodge aside. If it had been Flora, if it had been Miles...

Better me. I can take it.

Dani has a kit in hand, she realizes, lifted from the manor bathroom. Sitting beside Jamie on the sofa, she tears open a single-use alcohol wipe. She hesitates only once, one hand hovering beside Jamie’s jaw; when Jamie nods, that hand takes her chin, fingers splayed gently to tip her head back. 

“Deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie starts to say, the words hissing out of her when Dani angles the wipe against the edge of the wound. It’s small, thankfully--the branch had been, too, though Jamie knows better than anyone that size is no measure of danger--but the sting clenches her teeth together. She closes her eyes, trying her best to disassemble the pain and piece it back together into a more enjoyable sensation.

Not the burn, but the soft pressure of Dani’s hand on her skin.

Not the throb running a path along her skull, but the warmth of Dani’s breath mingling with her own.

Maybe this isn’t better, she realizes. Maybe it is infinitely worse, fixing on Dani’s knee pressed to her thigh, Dani’s hand cradling her cheek as though she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Her eyes flick open to find Dani leaning close, inspecting the wound with an unflappable composure.  

“It isn’t deep,” she says. “Might scar a little, though.”

“Not my first,” Jamie quips before she can stop herself. Dani’s eyebrows raise, her lips curving in a small smile. 

“You’ve got stories.”

Not a question--and not a pressure, either. Just an easy statement. Sometimes, this is just Dani’s way: neat, straightforward, to the point. Jamie wonders what kind of life shapes a woman this way, to navigate the grip of anxiety one moment and turn utterly steadfast the next. She’d like to know. She’ll never push. Dani is a co-worker, nothing more; the last thing Jamie needs is to go crossing bounds again.

“Thank you,” she says, as Dani fishes out a bandage and some tape. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t need--”

Dani silences her with another smile, tinged with something so like sadness, it puts any knock on the head to shame. “When I was little,” she says, “I was always getting hurt. I was a clumsy kid, I guess. Fell down a lot--out of trees, off my bike. My dad was always the one to take care of it.”

Jamie says nothing. This is the most Dani’s ever spoken directly to her, and she finds the bounce and curve of her Midwestern accent strangely comforting. 

“He wasn’t really a typical dad that way, I guess,” Dani goes on, gently holding the cotton bandage up to the wound. She reaches down, clasps Jamie’s wrist, eases her up to hold the square in place. “Hang onto that a sec. My dad, he was...softer than other kids’. He always knew how to clean my scrapes without making me cry. Never quite got the hang of that, after--he died when I was eight, I dunno if you knew that--”

Jamie shakes her head. Dani, patiently cutting a strip of tape, shrugs.

“Got sick. Was gone almost before I knew it. And my mom was never...much good at any of that, so I had to learn how to patch myself up. The alcohol was always the worst part. Almost.”

“Almost?” Jamie repeats. Dani is replacing her hand with deft fingers, adhering the bandage with simple efficiency. When she checks a mirror later, she suspects the whole affair will be neat, orderly, perfectly applied. 

“Yeah,” Dani says, leaning back to observe her handiwork. She seems satisfied, piling everything back into the first aid kit, closing it with a click. “Worst part was after. He would always find the best bandaid--something brightly-colored, or with cartoon characters--and then he’d lean over whatever I’d busted open that day, and he’d kiss the spot twice. Once for forgiveness, he always said, to let the skin know he didn’t blame it for bleeding. And once for healing. Two kisses, every time. It felt like magic. I could never...”

She quiets, her smile fading. It’s too easy for Jamie to imagine a small girl with a blonde braid, kissing her own scraped knee after a fall, knowing full-well it wouldn’t be the same. Too easy to imagine Dani at eight--eleven--thirteen, patching herself back together on her own. 

“Well,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “You left a bit out, then.”

Dani raises her eyes, frowning. “Sorry?”

“Did the patching,” Jamie points out. Her mouth is weirdly dry, her head thundering away. This is, she senses, navigating too close to the brink of something. Friendship, maybe. Or just Dani thinking she’s making fun. And still, she can’t stop herself. “Seems like you forgot the magic.”

Dani hesitates, her hands folded in her lap. She’s picking, Jamie realizes, at one cuticle, nearly enough to tear the skin. 

“Go on, then,” she adds, heartened to see Dani’s grave expression tilting toward the sun. “Forgiveness and healing. Could use a little of both, maybe.”

She doesn’t know what she expects, exactly--even saying this feels like the product of insanity, a crack on the head urging her toward things she’d never normally try--but Dani draws a breath. Folds a hand around the back of her head, fingers sifting into curls. Leans forward.

It hurts, a little, Dani pressing her lips to the bandage, though she knows Dani is being gentle. Hurts a little, and sparks something Jamie hadn’t meant to let in, too. She closes her eyes, Dani’s kiss seeming to scorch. 

“Once for forgiveness,” Dani murmurs, lips brushing the skin of her forehead. Another kiss, sweet and soft and sending an electric charge down her spine. “Once for healing.”

She doesn’t lean back, not right away--her hand is warm, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and for a single beat, Jamie wants to tilt her chin. Coax that gentle kiss to find her lips. Change it all. 

The concussion, she assures herself, responsible for the reckless impulse. Responsible, too, for the thread of disappointment coiling in her stomach when Dani removes her hand, places it back in her lap, shakes her head almost ruefully.

“He was better at it.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But I can be clumsy, too. Stay long enough, you might get enough practice to measure up.”

Dani meets her eyes, looking embarrassed, looking delighted. Jamie rubs the back of her neck, casting around for a way out of this hole she’s dug. 

“Listen to me. Take enough thumps to the head, I’m gonna starting spewing puns like Owen.”

“Oh no,” Dani laughs. “Anything but that.”

She has to go, she explains, back to the kids. Jamie’s welcome to join them--she’s got a game of cards planned, and they could use a fourth. Jamie almost agrees. Almost lets herself follow Dani into the house, her fingers straying mindlessly to brush the fresh bandage sealed with a kiss. 

“Shouldn’t,” she says--to Dani, to herself, to the burgeoning heat in her cheeks as she recalls how gently Dani had pressed her lips to the wound. “Work to be done, y’know.”

Dani nods. “See you at dinner?”

She should say no to that, too. Should go home to her little flat, to the quiet which always makes perfect sense, which never turns up with a first aid kit and assertive hands. 

“Yeah. Dinner.” She’s smiling. Dani, leaning against the doorframe, is, too. 

“No more knocks on the noggin,” she adds with mock-gravity. Jamie snorts, gives a careless little salute. 

“No fuckin’ promises.”

It’s difficult to say what’s harder to ignore, when Dani’s gone and the work rises up to meet her once more. Hard to say which part--the thumping of the headache, or the memory of Dani Clayton’s lips pressed to her forehead--has a greater hold on the rest of her day. No one asks, and she’s honestly relieved. 

If asked, Jamie would insist the headache has won out. If asked, she’d have no other choice.

If asked, Jamie would absolutely lie. 

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 14: wandering

All chapters

chapter 13

I awoke suddenly feeling a cold breeze of air brush my face, I looked around and realized I had fallen asleep outside against the tree, and it was now nighttime. "Crap" I whispered looking down at my watch. It was already 9 o'clock. How had no one questioned where I was? Better yet how had no one seen me? I frowned a bit at the thought no one came to find me. It was freezing too, considering it was Winter, I'm surprised it wasn't snowing yet.

 I stood up and grabbed my bag and began to head back inside the castle to head to my dormitory. I let out a deep breath remembering the realization I had come to before I drifted off. I hated having to deal with this now. Well actually, there really was no way to deal with this. Most people that develop...feelings for someone are actually able to work through and maybe act on them. But not I. I was to be stuck with this for however long it decides to stick around. I don't want to jump to conclusions, it's not like I like the man, I just...fancy him. Yeah, fancy that's the perfect word to describe what I felt for Severus. My potions Professor. Oh merlin y/n what is wrong with you!? He's a teacher for heaven's sake. I need to do everything possible to get rid of this feeling, or redirect it somehow.

I finally made it back into my dormitory and quietly took a shower and got ready for bed. My roommates seemed to be pretty heavy sleepers. I stood in the mirror fresh out of the shower and brushed my hair. Looking at the girl before me, the one who has convinced herself somehow, to fall for this cruel man. But he wasn't cruel was he. Not to me at least. I put my dark green nightgown on and slipped on my panties, exiting the bathroom after washing my face and brushing my teeth. I laid a few pats on Hera and gave her a treat, crawling into bed and looking up at my ceiling. How could this have happened? He was so awful to me when we first met, I mean he's awful to everyone, how did I stem feelings from seeing him a couple extra hours, and pleasing him by passing this test? It all seemed to have happened overnight. I began to realize though it didn't happen overnight, I've felt this way since he saved me from detention with Lockhart. Foolish of me. I closed my eyes waiting to drift asleep, but to no surprise, I couldn't. Typical, the one time I need my thoughts to shut up, they don't, they only hinder me from the peaceful release. I did take a rather long nap earlier, so it makes sense. I got up and slipped on some socks and grabbed my wand. I exited the dormitory and walked out into the dungeons. Holy shit it's cold, I thought to myself. "Lumos" I whispered and began walking down the hall, not in the direction of Snape's class. Last thing I would need right now is to run into a certain brooding man. I crossed my arms over my chest to help with the cold feeling, and continued taking a slow stroll through the castle. I could probably easily get caught and would most definitely get some form of punishment, but I didn't really care. It's not like they'd kick me out or something.

I looked out a window as I passed by it and looked out at the forest. I've heard stories of the Forbidden Forest, but I figured it was forbidden for a reason. I did have some desire to explore it one day though, just not tonight. I continued down the hall and looked at all the portraits as they slept. This school really is wondrous. I do miss Beauxbatons. To think if I hadn't been torn from there I may not be in the predicament I found myself in currently. I decided to head to the kitchens to see if the house elves were still in there, or if they too go and sleep, and maybe i'd be able to get a cup of coffee or something. As I headed that way I heard mumbling voices and turned out my wand and clung to the wall, I looked over the corner to see Professor Flitwick and Professor Lockhart conversing as they walked past and continued monitoring the halls, heading towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. I quietly tiptoed once I saw them out of sight and picked up the pace to the kitchen. As I reached the doors I stood on my toes to look through the windows and saw no one inside. I let myself in and walked over to what I hoped was the coffee machine. Now where's the coffee? I went through each cabinet checking where it could be, it didn't help it was dark, but I didn't wanna risk being seen. I opened and closed each cabinet as quietly as possible still having no luck. I squatted down to the very far end cabinet on the bottom but it was locked, hmm this must be where they keep the coffee so no one drinks it, silly I thought, "Alohomora" I whispered pointing my wand to it and heard it click open. Sure enough to my surprise the coffee was indeed in here, It was a special blend so I was guessing it was one of the teachers in specific, I pulled the jar out and put enough into a filter into the pot to make one cup and then added the water, I pressed the power button and took a few minutes to figure out how to work it. Before I pressed brew I thought for a moment and placed a silencing spell on the room.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was 5 minutes, the coffee was done and I poured it all into a mug I found on the shelf. I blew on it a bit but it was still very hot. I laid it on the counter and cleaned up the machine. I grabbed the coffee tin and went to place it back in its place, as I squatted down I noticed in the back of this cabinet were a few bottles of firewhiskey and wine. Wow the Professors must have some fun around here. I looked at the brown bottles and thought about it for a moment. No I shouldn't If I get caught with that I would actually be kicked out. I left it alone for now and shut the cabinet, locking it and taking my cup from the counter. I headed out of the kitchen checking to make sure no one was near and took the charm off as I left. I began walking down the quiet and cold halls once more. I then had an idea. I made my way all the way to the stairs that led to the Astronomy tower and headed up in it to sit and enjoy the hot beverage. I stood leaning against the wall looking out over the courtyards and rest of the castle, you could see a lot of the school from here, this was probably my favorite place to come in the whole school. All the stars twinkling above. I took a sip of my cup, the hot liquid running down my throat, a sigh of relief as warmth filled my body. It was very cold up here and I wish I had brought my coat.

I looked up at the sky, and my thoughts began to run, I soon realized the only thing on my mind was My professor. How stupid of me to let this happen. I think the worst part was how I knew I would not be able to confide in anyone about these inappropriate feelings, no one would understand, and who knows they may think I'm dreadful and disgusting. I never confided in my father, and stopped confiding in my mother when I realized anytime I did she would ask me what I did that caused this to happen, it was always my fault no matter how many times I was screwed over. The only one I would ever be able to confide in was my sister. We were very close and she always listened and gave me good advice, she was so understanding, kind, and non judgmental. She was a much better person than I. She would have loved this view too, she would have loved Hogwarts, I just know she would have been in Hufflepuff, she'd fit right in with them. Or maybe Griffyndor, she was so brave when it came down to tough situations. My mother would be a Raven claw no doubt, she's very smart and technical. I don't know what my father would be. "Probably a Slytherin that bastard" I said out loud taking another sip. He attended Durmstrang. I cringed at the thought of him being in my house as well. I was nothing like him. He was horrible and vain, not to mention incredibly sexist and probably everything else you could think of. That asshole was such a phony too. He'd act so chill and nice to people, but it was all a facade to hide his cunty side. I grew frustrated just thinking about him.

I began to feel a hot tear slide down my face, my sister would have tried defending him, she was so sweet, she hated when he and I would fight. Always breaking it up and telling me how he wasnt worth it, and even though he's a jerk he was still our father. I was glad to have left him, hopefully I'd never have to see him again, I'd miss having a dad, but not him. I sniffled and a few more tears came down my face. I sat down on one of the ledges and looked out at the moon, it was so beautiful. I wish I could just live on the moon, carefree, peaceful, and quiet. Numb to everything. I wouldt have to live with these new feelings for this man I would never have. I began to cry more thinking about how dreadful my remaining years here at Hogwarts would be if these feelings did not resolve themselves. I want to blame my after for this, if he didnt leave me so damaged maybe I wouldn't be craving the affection and appreciation from this older man. I wiped my tears as they fell remembering the way he smelt, his smile, his hair, his eyes. They were so dark and held great sadness. I could tell he's been through a lot, but he was good at hiding it. I wiped the tears that still flooded down and looked up to the sky. "What do I do? How do I deal with this?" I asked no one, not expecting a direct response, but some sign at least. "Please. I'm not cut out for this type of thing. Why him? Of all the people here why him? What do I do!" I said as I let my frustration take over and began to cry harder, thinking of this beautiful man that I'd never get to touch and have, that I was growing such strong feelings for.

[kevinbirthday]

Some days I think about Aaron minyard and about the fact that the aftg fandom gives him so much shit about going back on his deal with Andrew, or being a drug addict in the past and making that his only personality trait in fanfics, or going on and on about the fact that he doesn’t understand Andrew and maybe he doesn’t but

aaron understands Andrew when Andrew gets that flash of panic in his eye followed by a not quite there look before it goes his face goes blank because Aaron definitely has at least a little bit of ptsd bc who and I kidding the kid was beat, brainwashed/groomed his whole life, and had his mom get him addicted to drugs so he definitely has some ptsd like even as he’s older seeing a little blond kid all bruised up after the little dude fell out of a tree at the hospital to check out his broken arm definitely triggers him because all he can see is himself or Andrew all alone in the kids hazel eyes

but what really gets him is closing the bathroom door to the Colombia house (i can’t remember if it’s tilda’s house or the Colombia house they detox him in) and he always has to have it propped open to were he can tell he’s able to get out or he has to have something between the door and the frame to keep it from closing all the way if someone tries to slam it, him and Andrew are exact opposites when it comes to this

I know the bathroom door thing will bother him from personal experience because I had to sit outside my best friends room when she closes it to change or whatever because she was locked in her room once while going through withdrawals from Xanax cut with fentanyl and she can’t have her door closed or if it is closed you have to promise to let her out/promise you won’t lock it which takes me to my next point aaron makes Andrew sit outside the bathroom door when he needs it closed because in his words ‘you fucked this up for me so you have to deal with it’ and Andrew is just like ‘Yes I will keep my brother safe even if it’s from his head’ bc even tho Andrew is a little fucking shit he’s still a good brother and I live by that

but also the monsters are basically all teen boys so they aren’t going to be painting bathroom doors just bc of some scratches on it so aaron has to look at where he scratched off the paint of the door trying to get out of the bathroom while he was going through his withdrawals and it makes him like physically ill to look at the door and it’s never repainted until Neil is like ‘yo aaron hates the bathroom door. Why?’ And one day Aaron catches Andrew with a quart of paint spot covering the door in the twins 2nd year one night they’re at the Colombia house

This is like all over the place but yea the cold turkey detox thing sucks, ik from personal experience and that was just from nicotine and prescriptions I didn’t have a weening plan for, Aaron was on opioids/whatever his mom had around the house which means whatever he was on was definitely cut with other drugs like fentanyl or meth or whatever the dealer could mix with the pills and repress them to maximize profit and since aaron/his mom were buying off the streets poor dude was definitely coming off of multiple drugs at once and his body must have been fighting so hard

And like I wasn’t even locked up imagine being locked in a cold ass bathroom while you’re having the worst however many days it takes to flush the drugs out of it system through just throwing up and sweating it out yk

So I think Aaron has rights to be resentful towards Andrew for his rehab methods :/ bc it would leave a damaging physiological impact on anyone but esp a previously abused druggie teen.

I have lots of opinions on Aaron and I hate how he gets 0 redemption ark at all. Neil ‘hates’ him which is why we don’t see the good side of him but like we know neils a unreliable narrator like jeez I’m so tired of Aaron just being the butt of the joke in every situation just because the unreliable narrator with an attitude problem told y’all that Aaron sucks ://

[themsource]

Don’t Fear The Reaper

Paring: Reaper Sans/Frisk

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,530

TW: Current world situation might make this a bit sensitive

I’ve been sick, have something I’ve been holding onto as an apology. Song inspiration.

Frisk couldn’t take another day.  

Staring unseeing into the screen of her laptop she could only frown as her thoughts drifted; memories of wasted minutes that could’ve been spent in favored company searing an angry burn into her heart, fleeting moments of loneliness and desolate imaginings coating her in a veil of uncertainty and numbness.

When had she last gone outside? 

Had last heard from a loved one or reached out to those she’d claimed to care about? 

How long had it been before the world crumbled around her and the countless people inhabiting it dwindled down to mere thousands?

Even now her race fought to hold on, all the medical supplies left to the world reaching the brink of extinction under its exorbitant use, medical technology breaking down with barely a soul left alive that had the knowledge to effectively fix them.

One of humanity's worst fears realized.

Slowly she turned her gaze to her window and watched as a thin blanket of ash and disease fell tauntingly just outside the safe haven of her home. 

What looked as if harmless bits of grey and white nothing more than the teasing touch of death itself. Every lazily falling speck a testament to a life lost, a future cut short. 

They were so ugly, yet so beautiful in their descent.

As it always did when she glanced outside, something pulled at her chest.

A morbid sense of wanderlust...and a craving that teasingly urged her to don her mask and coat, to venture out into the tainted world promising sickness and suffering.

Why that feeling always came, persuasive and insistent, she didn’t know.

But the nostalgia it brought...

Frisk could still remember what it was like to see the sun and feel it’s warmth on her skin. She could still remember the smiles and laughter her family had given as young ones ran and played around them, splashing with precious sparkling lake water and indulging in the freedom to explore and adventure without worry.

Her family...that had been lost...because the world hadn’t been prepared for the apocalypse.

When the sky had blistered red and the air had swirled with the planet’s resentment and withheld rage, airborne toxins infecting and striking people down with barely the whisper of a passing breeze, she had cried. 

Frisk had sobbed at the lack of mercy shown to the lifeforms that had so tainted the world with countless eons of carelessness and greed.

Nature was no better than humanity had been in it’s ruthlessness.

Frisk had been forced to endure it first hand.

Her mother’s face as she passed still hung in her mind, her brother’s, her sister’s, and then her aunt and uncle. All going out with soft smiles and pleas for her to be safe, tears stinging cheeks and hands clutching each other in futile reassurances.

Death had been cruel, death had been relentless. 

Frisk fought, fought so hard to promise them she’d survive and that she would make it through this all encompassing hopelessness that had swallowed the light of the world with a clammy and bitter victory, but everyday got harder...longer.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, and then hours to days...

Her determination which had once been boiling and strong had gradually simmered, wilted and turned pale as the mental walls she had tried so hard to build had begun to weaken. 

She knew humanity was surviving, many were doing well by staying in their homes, locked away and isolated, but so many were still falling and losing everyday.

Not a day passed that another wasn’t lost.

Frisk...wondered sometimes what it would be like to go outside again. 

Just to feel the air on her skin, the constant state of entrapment forgotten as she raced through tall blades of grass and ducked under low hanging branches, to be alive once more. 

And as she did another pull just as insistent as the last tugged at her chest. 

She was no fool, she knew what it was calling her, who it was.

At least she thought she did...

But she wanted oh so much to enjoy the outside again.

Just once…

She counted silently in muted murmurs as she tried to chase the urge away. Her golden eyes moving between falling flecks of morbid debris with every number that slipped between her lips. But as her count grew, the urge which so often became smothered by the robotic droning, only escalated in equal measure. 

She couldn’t drown it out like she’d done countless times before.

Frisk went silent as her eyes shifted down to the grey blanket that had once been her vibrantly green yard. Where had previously been the garden she’d tended with her father, now rested a depressed and gruesome looking mound, darker than all the surrounding landscape as if sadness itself had soaked into it, turning it to filthy mud.

Were there any plants left in the world?

A single Rose or Lilly?

...could they still be found?

The silently burning urge turned into an inner roar of desperation, the days she’d failed to keep track of gaining momentum like a snowball as they tumbled down the slope of her mind and forced her heart to pound with anxiety and crazed desire.

A few minutes, she only needed a few minutes outside. 

What would a few minutes hurt?

Frisk ignored how strangely satisfied the persistent tug in her chest felt as she took a deep breath and moved over to her dresser, the few steps taken as if in slow motion. 

Her hands shook as she withdrew a jacket, thick gloves and leggings, anything to protect her skin from the illicit darkness raining from the sky, and then finally her mask.

She stared at it as she ran gentle fingers over the goggles, brushed soothingly over the air filters and then reverently the beak. 

She supposed it was a kind of irony to wear a plague doctor’s mask, the literal and interpreted face of death in order to protect one’s self from the destruction reigning around them.

In their hope humanity had taken to wearing death’s visage, the thought of fooling the all powerful being into sparing those he crossed. 

After all death couldn’t reap himself could he? 

Frisk liked to think that it worked, wanted to believe it would, even if it hadn’t spared her loved ones. It was a foolish fancy she knew but still...when there was little hope left in the world it was best to cling to what one could find.

With a resolute calmness she didn’t feel she slipped it over her face and dressed herself, drifted over to the doorway and hesitated with her hand outstretched. 

Her ears rung, a drone of furiously pounding blood in her veins silencing all the indiscernible sounds of her house into a buzzing white noise. Her heart was racing, trying to burst from her chest as she sucked air through the mask and into her straining lungs.

She quickly flung the door open and rushed outside, slamming it shut behind her where she froze in place, like a deer caught in the headlights. The tugging abruptly stopped and she slowly relaxed at how nothing rushed her, no force or being appearing to tear her asunder.

Gasping from the small rush of adrenaline that still coursed through her she slowly panned the street, taking in it’s barren state before glancing up at the sky.

Frisk fell back against the door in twisted awe.

A sky, black as night, greeted her. It’s vastness dotted with barely perceivable clouds that all broke apart and refused in distorted flows and turns, and from them falling the unending dirge of the Earth’s tears, a silently promised oblivion.

She shut her eyes as she quivered and shook, savoring the bizarre freshness around her even as it’s abnormal chill pierced her thickly covered skin like needles. Surely this was enough, this could tie her over for a few more months couldn’t it?

But as she pushed to support herself back onto unsteady feet her gaze was once more drawn to her covered and long dead garden. 

She shifted her feet, watched as the ash moved like snow and revealed a corroded sidewalk with divots and pits eaten through the cement from having been covered by the ash for so long.

And she wondered if anything at all could live still under the deadly mush. 

Then a faint memory surfaced; there was a park not far from her home, one that she used to go to everyday as a child but often covered in trees and bushes lining the sidewalks.

Maybe there could be life there?

She glanced over her shoulder and contemplated returning inside before she felt the compelling tug once more, and before she knew it she was walking away and down the street. 

One glance at life, one simple flower or leaf to prove they all still had a chance and she’d go back to hiding. Frisk was loath to admit it but her determination felt so weak, her soul thinned and almost empty of perseverance. 

She was only human, she needed a renewal of faith just like the next person.

Surely then it would be enough for her to carry on.

Her eyes peered through her slightly smudging goggles as she moved, noting how most of the houses lay dark and abandoned. 

Out of the many houses on her block she only counted two showing signs of life still, their inner lights dulled from the distance she was to them.

Frisk walked faster. 

She didn’t stop until she crossed the familiar wooden arch, didn’t even slow before spotting the pond she once swam in with her siblings desolate and stagnant, she only stopped once she got to the center; where everyone used to gather.

The park was...wasn’t a park anymore. 

Long gone were the slides and swing sets she’d remembered, in their places were rusted and collapsed piles of metal and half melted plastic, so warped and emitting a stench so foul it was nauseating. 

She tried not to cry, forced back her whimper and tears in fear of somehow damaging her mask.

Even the trees were dead, blackened like soot, as if they’d been set fire to.

The minuscule flame of hope she’d tried to cultivate died violently.

Was this truly all that was left?

All that awaited humanity with no salvation in sight?

There wasn’t a sound, more of a feeling, ominous and foreboding from behind her that had her body going stiff and her hands subconsciously clenching into fists. 

If she focused hard enough she could practically feel what little natural light there was being sucked away as if devoured by a black hole, leaving in its wake nothing but emptiness.

“frisky~ i wondered when you’d finally come out to play.” 

The voice was smooth like velvet, coaxing, and so physical a presence it felt like a finger running down her spine. 

But in it’s tone she could hear the underlying numbness, feel the apathetic yet smug way it used itself to lure and entice, a predator's song with no escape.

Mouth dry and eyes wide, she turned and felt time stop around her.

Before her stood a being taller than her but undeniable in who it was as it wore a cloak made of night and a mask matching her own. Only his was elegantly shaped similar to one worn to a masquerade, all black laced swirls and tendrils decorating an equally black satin backdrop. 

Exposed beneath it was a wide and disturbing skeletal grin.

Resignation made her shoulders slump and she could only ask one question, “How?”

A single blue eyelight spawned from the dark sockets that she could make out through the mask, it’s glow brightening as it took her in and seemed to fill with amusement at her question. 

His grin stretched and his eyelight vanished as his voice came out light and humored. “in order to hide from death you have to actually look like him.” 

She watched as one of his hands lifted, the robe he wore falling away to reveal skeletal phalanges that curled around the beak of his facade. 

Her heart seemed to remember it existed and started to race in fear and...anticipation. 

Frisk’s breath caught as the mask he wore lifted to reveal death’s visage; sockets so dark and deep it was easy to picture them filled with the cries of the hopeless and damned, and a grin sardonic yet comforting in it’s falseness that promised much but denied all, even with the contrasting air of friendliness it exuded.

A poetic and morbid art form in motion.

Her body felt as if it was about to collapse just from his gaze alone.

She shouldn’t have been shocked at how she felt or the way he looked, he was death after all, but beneath that was a flush of awe and admiration she couldn’t figure out, teasing just on the fringes of her mind.

“and no one looks like me.” There was heat, warmth in his cold gaze as his sockets narrowed at her almost playfully.

It made her heart skip.

Death lowered his mask back into place. “heh, not alive anyway.” 

They both fell into silence, observing the other in both curiosity and interest. 

Frisk had known he’d been after her, she could feel it every time she so much as entertained the idea of running away from her makeshift prison, had suspected it when she’d felt that tug that always encouraged and prodded the first time at her mother’s bedside.

She’d secretly hoped she’d been wrong.

Frisk licked her lips as she struggled to form the question burning in her mind and refused to cower completely before him as she faced him head on.

“What do you want with me?” He tilted his head but she pushed on. “You took everyone from me, stole them without any hesitation and more than half of the life on this planet, what more could you desire that you don’t already have?” 

His single eyelight flared and vanished but it wasn’t in a malicious manner, it felt more natural to see empty sockets on him than an expression of emotion the tentative glow had offered. 

She wasn’t expecting the chuckle he gave however, a low and ironic one, followed by an absent shrug. “death doesn’t need a reason for what it does, not a purpose or inclination.” 

Frisk felt a jolt of betrayal and anger, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come the moment he took a step towards her.

She couldn’t bring herself to move, couldn’t find the will to escape as he advanced, and felt her stomach flip anxiously as he finally stopped close enough she had to slightly tilt her head up to face the peculiar expression he leveled at her.

“but this personification, this form i have chosen to exist as has craved nothing but you from the time of your birth.” Her blood suddenly ran cold. 

“death has had an eye on you since before your conception. just as i have for countless others.” 

A single phalange came up to trace the shape of her cheek, just out of reach but close enough the small hairs on her skin rose like static as it passed over her, as if they were rising to try and meet his touch. 

His smile didn’t falter for a moment as he went on, desire and admiration heavy in his words. 

“but you carry life in your eyes,” His finger slid up and over to the corner of her right eye. “and it’s beauty is the thing i crave more than the comforts offered and promised by oblivion.” 

Frisk could hear nothing but a shrill ringing in her ears, her nerves lighting up in anxiety as she took in how cold his breath and near touch were, how just a hair’s breath from connecting they remained. 

He hadn’t said it out loud but the implication was there.

“You’re going to kill me.” She whispered. 

He hummed as his eyelight spawned back into view and it seemed to be bigger in size as it trapped her in its ethereal blue. Death looked contemplative and let his hand drop as he appraised her.

“i’ve killed millions all in the pursuit of luring you from hiding, no, i will offer you a choice.” His brash statement crashed down on her like a hammer to glass. 

Was this plague because of her? 

This sickness and end all because she’d drawn the eye of the wrong person? 

She felt disgusted and bitter with herself.

Death was unfazed by her clear reaction or chose to ignore it as he went on.

“give yourself to me and be with your family again always, not in death but in the void i call home; forever suspended on the precipice of this world and the next with me at your side. there you can communicate with the ones long since passed.” 

His tone came out dry.

“or, choose to stay here, alone.” 

Until he came for her anyways, she silently added. 

Frisk knew either way she was going to end up in his clutches just as all living things eventually did. She couldn’t believe what he was saying, but she already knew her answer. 

The choice to be with her family again? Maybe not in the way she thought their reunion would be but still together. 

Or wait for however long he permitted her to continue breathing with longing and the knowledge he would always be waiting, would always be watching until he couldn’t wait any longer.

There was both endless, and no patience at all, in death. 

She and countless others had witnessed it through the centuries. One moment he’d draw out a person’s sickness, the next he’d take them cruelly and without warning. 

It would be a gamble on which side she’d fall every morning and night. 

Death worked on his own whims.

That wasn’t a choice.

But she knew what her answer would always be no matter the question.

And...she couldn’t go back she realized. 

Frisk didn’t want to return to being locked away and being forced to watch silently as the nations fell and collapsed. She also couldn’t live with herself if death’s obsession with her killed any more people.

“Okay.” 

Death’s eyelight lit and pulsed inquisitively. 

The words were so heavy and thick on her tongue it took all her will to clarify. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile grew.  

A gale of wind pushed her forward and her hands clutched Death’s robe as it billowed around her like a miasma, one of his hands gripping her mask by the beak and slipping it from her face. 

Frisk could only stare at him while barely hearing the sound of the one thing that had been protecting her as it fell to the ground. 

Instantly her nose and mouth flooded with the tainted air and she choked, her lungs burning as if she was drowning, and broke down into a fit of coughing while she clung subconsciously closer to the reaper before her.

He looked absolutely victorious as his hands came up to frame her face. 

In reaction she felt herself go lightheaded, her vision blurring as the strength in her body started to give out under the contact. 

She could feel the warmth that had been within her rush into her cheeks, brushing and curling into Death’s frozen and harshly textured touch as he absorbed her life greedily and with fervor.

Her heart palpitated weakly, missed a beat that stole her rapidly declining breath

“don’t be afraid, i offer you a kindness.” He leaned closer to her, the beak of his mask angling her gaze up to his own as the world was drowned out by his gentle demand. “kiss me.” 

Frisk couldn’t find the mental fortitude to resist and tilted her head as close as she could. 

His eyelight faded out as he pressed his teeth to her worn and paling lips, the ridges of his smirk bending down to lock them together. 

Frisk’s life flashed behind her eyes, all her precious moments slipping away into nothingness till only this one remained, her body locked in his embrace with her first and last kiss of this mortal coil given and stolen.

How wrong yet so right it felt.

Vaguely she felt the insistent tugging she’d long become accustomed to flare to life and explode into an infernal heat, her hands finding strength somehow to pull him closer to her.

A possessive growl of approval vibrated against her in response as an icy thumb stroked her cheek reverently, wiping away a stray tear right before the world bent and faded around them.

As Death whisked her away the ash stopped falling, the last remnants of it drifting down in a gentle sway to join what remained on the ground as the sky gradually began to lighten and crest in soft yellow light.

Ventilator’s started to function normally--

Fevers broke--

Humanity’s hope renewed as life offered her salvation and comfort.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Three: If We Have Each Other.

~When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine. I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand. You should know I'll be there for you. I will always be there for you~

"Dude, we are in some serious jelly," I proclaimed as I paced around the small perimeter of the tree house.

"And that jam!" Isaac added from where he remained sitting at the table.

"Tight spot."

"Indeed!"

"Up a tree!" I supplied.

"Lost in the grass!" He offered. I swung around, shaking my finger at him.

"I'll tell ya what's grass, our- AAH FRACKLES!"  I had stepped on a stray nail in one of the floorboards. Hobbling my way back into my chair, I thunked my head against the table.

"But look at the bright side." Isaac leaned back in his chair. "Seeing as how our grand-theft-hairbrush is going viral and all, there is still a chance that me flipping the camera off could become a meme!" He pointed out. Slowly, I raised my head to stare at him.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Consider it, Marty! All it took was five years being dead and now I'm finally fulfilling my life-long dream! If I'd known it was this easy, I would have killed myself a long time ago and spared me all that drama and emotional damage," Isaac smirked. I shook my head, my gaze drifted back to the Vader figure and snow globe sitting side-by-side on the shelf.

"Please don't talk like that Isaac," I sighed. Isaac's face fell.

"Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking," He apologized. I nodded.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but what more could be said when you didn't want to speak?

"Hey," Isaac spoke softly, ducking his head to get me to look at him, "Even if things go sour, I'm gonna be here for you. Just like I promised. Through thick and thin, remember?"

"Through thick and thin."

Smiling weakly, I repeated our life long mantra. I took a deep breath and focused back in on the problem.

"Alright, man. We gotta figure out a game plan. That video is gonna bring every hunter and their mom up here to ice our, or my, gluteus maximus. And if they know about the minimart then they know about the hospital. So, what's our play?"

"Well, I say you use your Sweet-Talkin' thing and talk any o'those alcoholic weirdos out of it," Isaac suggested. I shook my head.

"Isaac, you know how much I hate doing that."

Although it was a tempting idea, that wasn't something I wanted to mess with. If you start playing with the dark things, the dark things start playing with you. That wasn't a concept I liked, but Isaac would never understand that.

"I'm just saying it’s an option! And an easy one at that," Isaac pushed. I glared at him.

"I'm not doing that."

"It might come to it, Marty. I'm just saying as a plan C it-"

"The answer is no! Moving on." My tone killed and buried the subject. Isaac raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine. But misinformation is still our strongest tool. We should use it. Tell anybody who asks that it was all done on a computer," He conceded.

"Alright, that's plan A. What's plan B?"  Isaac's face twisted in thought. I let him do any and all planning when it came to telling a lie because he was so much better at making it convincing than I was. Isaac was the king of spouting believable bull crap. In fact, he would have made and excellent demon. That guy could probably get an angel to sell its soul for a box of holy doughnuts. When the idea hit Isaac's brain, I could almost see a light bulb light up above his head. He leaned forward, exited.

"Okay, I got it. We make up some BS story about a gay black dude who got chopped up by the ferry or something and the hospital wouldn't help him because all the doctors were racist homophobes, and it was the 50's." He nodded at me very seriously. Like I said, Isaac was king.

"That's is the worst, most ridiculous and stupid story I have ever heard," I told him. Isaac's nodding grew more excited. "It's perfect. They'll buy every word. Just one thing though, what about the mini-mart?" I pointed out.

Isaac opened his mouth before closing it again. Then he opened it. Then he closed it. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. This happened several more times before he finally came up with something good.

"So, our gay black guy was also a nice hobo dude and after he died he started stealing crap to give to his hobo buddies." Isaac gave me a thumbs up. I nodded.

"Okay, sounds good, sounds good. How do we explain me?" I splayed my hands. Isaac huffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back again and tucking his hands behind his head.

"Well, that’s easy. The camera never even caught a glimpse of your face, so you're his anonymous theft buddy slash item distributer!" He explained. I grinned at my fantastic phantasmal co-conspirator.

"Excellent, and of course nobody knows who the thief is. Especially not, innocent little me!" I chuckled at his brilliance.

"Exactly!" Isaac smirked.

"It's perfect! Except one last thing. We're gonna need some eyes and ears in on this. Someone to alert us when someone fishy comes lurking about," I said. Isaac nodded seriously.

"You're right. But who can we trust around here?" He asked. I could feel the smile split across my face.

"I can think of only one man for this job. A man as trustworthy as he is slimy. A man scrubbed clean by his own filth. A man so wonderful, words do him no justice!" I declared dramatically. Isaac was confused for a moment before realization dawned. His face fell.

"Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I think I am." I grinned. Isaac just sighed.

"Marty, no."

"Marty, yes!"

- 45 minutes later-

"Yo! Danny, my man! How's life?" I called out. Dan-the-Dope-Man looked up from...whatever it was he was doing outside Copper Harbor's one and only pharmacy. The pharmacy which he, in fact, owned. Honestly, I didn't want to know exactly what he had been doing behind the pile of cardboard boxes that were stacked up against the moldy brick. I figured it was better if I didn't. Dan smiled a grin that was missing two teeth.

"Marty! My worst customer and only friend! Life's good!" He greeted me, kicking a few of the boxes over to hide whatever suspicious activity it was that he had been up to. He winked and walked over to me, pushing his absolutely disgusting blond hair out of his face. "But, you know, business is betta'," He concluded.

I could never tell how tall Dan was, in this form especially. See, Dan-the-Dope-Man was a shapeshifter, though of course, no one else in the town knew that. That's how he was the owner of the pharmacy as well as a drug dealer. His other form, Jonathan De’ Santos, was the tall, 40-year-old, honest-looking Hawaiian man that ran the pharmacy. In this form, however, Dan was a somewhere-in-the-upper-five-foot-range Caucasian guy from Brooklyn with a thing against bathing. He said that the grungy, sewer-rat look was better for his side business. I wasn't sure how much of that I bought, but then again, who's gonna buy drugs from the guy who's supposed to make sure you don't destroy yourself with them.

"I bet it is!" I said, taking a step back when he reached me because, like I said, the guy had a thing against hygiene.

"This is a terrible, terrible idea," Isaac muttered, leaning on the wall to my left. I couldn't reply to him because although Dan knew what I was he didn't know about Isaac. So all I could do was give him a rude gesture behind my back. He saw it and stuck his tongue out at me.

"What can I do fo' ya, Marty?" Dan always pronounced my name as 'Mawty' at least in this form as it had a Brooklyn accent.

"Well, o' Danny boy, I have some rather bad news to deliver," I continued, "There might be some hunters coming to town soon."

Dan frowned; his eyes narrowed at me as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, that ain't good. Whatt'id ya do, Marty?" He asked. Sometimes Dan could be like my older brother, even if he didn't realize it.

"Woah, woah, woah! Who said I did anything?!" I defended. Dan just raised an eyebrow.

"You're always showin' off and ya know it," He said simply.

"He's right, you know," Isaac interjected. I wished I could tell him to shut his eidolic cake hole. It wouldn't have made much of a difference if I could, as he would still have continued talking, but the principle remained the same. Isaac was annoying. He needed to shut his mouth now and again. But I couldn't say that right now because he was a flipping ghost and ghosts are invisible. Mostly.

Ignoring Isaac, I opened my mouth to try to argue with Dan but quickly closed it again when found that I couldn't, because he was absolutely right. Now, I couldn’t admit that to him because Isaac was right here and that would be saying that he was right about something, and that was a thing I would never hear the end of.

"In regards," I started again.

"You'd just say 'regardless'," Isaac chimed in. I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him to shut up.

"Regardless," I corrected. Isaac chuckled. I really needed to get myself some iron gauntlets or something so I could give his apparitional arse an involuntary appendectomy. Or just an iron ring so I could punch him in the face.

"Regardless, it wasn't me. This time. It was some attention seeking moron with a computer. That combined with my little hospital trips and you get something fishy looking." I finally managed to finish my sentence without Isaac chiming in.

"Well then ya betta' keep ya head down, Marty. I don' wan' ya gettin hurt." A dark look crossed over Dan's usually upbeat face. "Or worse," He finished.

"I know Danny, which is why I need you to do something for me," I said. Isaac sighed and face palmed but I ignored it.

"What?" Dan asked.

"I need you to watch out for any newcomers asking weird questions. I've got a plan if any hunters get too close to us, I just need to know who and where they are," I told him.

See, the pharmacy, the mini-mart, the bar, and the barber shop all sat across from each other at a four way intersection. Thus, Dan would have an excellent view of any hunter's first two targets. The origin of the supernatural activity, in this case the mini-mart, and the bar. He would be the perfect spy. Dan looked at me strangely.

"Say, Marty, you ain't plannin' on gankin' any a' dose' suckas' now are ya?" He asked, caution evident in his voice. I sighed, shaking my head internally. This was just another downside of being what I was. Everybody thinks you're a murderer. Though I knew I was far from innocent, I had never killed anyone. At least, anyone who didn't deserve it.

"Come on, Danny. In all the time you've known me, have I ever, er, ganked anyone?" I asked him, spreading my hands as if to catch the obvious answer.

"Well, no. But people can change," Dan pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

"Dan, I'm not gonna kill anyone. There, ya happy?" I said, only mildly aggravated. Isaac decided it was time to speak up again.

"You may not. But I will. If it comes to that. I won't let anybody hurt you, Marty. Not again. Not when I can do something about it."

I knew he was saying this now so I wouldn't be able to argue with him. Then I would forget and if he did kill someone Isaac would say he'd said he would. I ground my teeth together and reminded myself that it wasn't going to come to that. I wouldn't let it.

Meanwhile, Dan thought about what I'd spoken aloud.

"Yeah okay, but if anybody comes sniffin' I'm skippin', kay?" He agreed. I nodded.

"Okay, take care of yourself, Danny."

"You too, Marty." I smiled at him and began to walk away. Isaac pushed himself off the wall and trudged behind me, complaining loudly.

"Make sure you take care of yourself too, Issac! I'd hate myself if anything happened to you, Isaac! I wouldn't be able to survive without you, Isaac! Thanks Marty, your friendship means everything to me!" He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Ugh! Why do I even bother?"

I smirked giving him the sign for 'I love you' behind my back.

"Aw shut up!"

But I knew he was smiling.

~So, I'm thankful for my sister even though sometimes we fight When high school wasn't easy, she's the reason I survived. I know she'd never leave me and I hate to see her cry. I just wanna tell her that I'm always by her side. I just wanna tell her that...

The worlds not perfect, but it’s not that bad. If we've got each other and that’s all we have I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you.

I will always be there for you.~

Lyrics from: If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

[cosmiclatte28]

#1 Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

First day of Christmas 

Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

It’s the day after Christmas, the merriest night has passed and you’re more than delighted to meet your family and had a nice feast. Yesterday was great with all of you buying presents and playing white elephant. You won a speaker and that is something you did not expect you’d get on a white elephant game. Your big family decided to gather in your parents’ house, where the grand Christmas tree stood up in its glorious form. You’re proud to say that the ornaments you hung with your brother look super pretty on the tree and that everyone is praising the Christmas tree in the hall. It was all good until your uncle got pretty drunk from chugging eggnog too fast and he bumped the Christmas tree. Though you think it is sturdy enough, turns out some of the decoration fell and break. Even worse, the main focus which is the star also toppled down and shattered into pieces.

Since everyone was in their Christmas mood, no one was making a fuss out of it. The maid cleaned up the shattered pieces and party continues like nothing happens.

But when the guest left the house and you were just chilling by the fireplace with your brother, Jaehyun, your mother came in and asked you a favour.

“(Y/n), I am sorry to disturb you and Jae, but can you please go to the store tomorrow and  buy us some decorations, we have some more guests tomorrow and we do not want to greet them with a plain tree right?” Your mother walked gently into the room and brushed a hand over your hair.

You sighed, “Why me? What about Jae?”

Your brother laughed, “Apparently, I am invited to attend a lunch Christmas celebration tomorrow in my girlfriend’s house. Sorry honey I cannot come with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “When does the store open?”

Your mom shook her head, “Not sure, you can search it up in the internet and find the one open for Christmas. Usually they’re close, but I know you can find it!” she planted a kiss on your head and then without listening to you, she left the room.

You punched your brother’s thigh and he yelled in pain, “What was that for? It’s Christmas we shouldn’t be mean to one another!”

“Oh I’ve gotten my present already, I can be naughty now.” You taunted at him and he laughed too when he realized that was a great answer.

“Look, I’m sure you will find a store. Worst case will be going to the mall but try the stores we usually go to.” Jaehyun patted your back, “I’m sure that will be a nice activity while you wait for our guests. I’ll be back before noon.” He stood up.

You turned your head to follow his step, oh he’s leaving too.

“Good night (y/n)! Merry Christmas!” he sent you a heart and you just shooed him away.

Knowing there was nothing left to do and everyone seemed to be in their room already, you made your way to your bedroom and drove to dreamland. At least mother did not ask you to wake up early and go to the stores.

You woke up late the next day. Jaehyun was gone already and your mother and father were also away, maybe visiting the orphanage they always visit on Christmas. Lunch was prepared nicely for you and as you enjoy the snow falling outside your window, you scrolled through your phone looking for shops that are open on the 26th of December.

You almost lose hope when the nearby stores are closed and that you have to go to the mall which is an hour drive from home. Quickly you glance to the big grandfather clock in the house and noted it’s almost one already. The quickest you can be on the mall is at two, and then look for Christmas decorations. Well luckily mom said to just grab a set and the star, but still an hour drive in the cold winter day by yourself is not pleasurable.

But a chore is a chore and so after making sure you’re dressed up nicely in a toasty attire, you step into your car and drive all the way to the big mall. Christmas song blasts on your speakers and you’re no longer sour about going to the mall. You put your car for valet and inhale the holiday vibes around you. Stores are holding sale and people are laughing from one store to another.

You look for the directory and found the store you are looking on the second floor. Without hurrying, you take your time to see the stores and even stop to smell candles and try candies. This was a wrong move, because when you arrive at the decoration store. There’s many people queueing in the cashier and you can see most of the decorations cleared out from the aisles.

“Oh no, I hope there’s some more left!” you rush into the store and hope to still get something.

The aisle with colors that do not match your other decoration are full but you’re struggling to find gold and blue! Those two were the majority of the colors hanging. You luckily found the star and take the last one remaining. Thanking all the gods you know that you still get the last one.

Your small steps bring you to the last aisle where there are some gold and blue ornaments left, with a big smile you stand in front of the aisle, reach out your hand, only to frown when you’re a couple of inch short.

You look around for a stool but find nothing, but your eye caught something. More like someone.

There you see on your left, a few steps away is a tall young man wrapped in a nice black coat.

He’s super tall, way taller than you but like Jaehyun’s. hastily you look around, but no crew is here too, should you ask for his help?

“Um excuse me,” you tap his shoulder and gosh he’s way taller than you!

He turns to look at you and you see a pair of warm eyes meeting yours. You bite your lips suddenly shy about asking his help.

“Yes? What is it?” he asks when he finds you quiet and his brain finishes processing that he doesn’t know you.

You gulp, “I couldn’t reach the christmas decoration on the top shelf and you look really tall.” You point to the aisle you mean and he follows your finger.

“Can you please help me?” you put on your pleading gaze Jaehyun hates so much, but look at him blushing over your cat eyes.

“Oh sure, I can help you.” He follows you to the rack and you point out the decoration you want.

He takes one easily and hands it to you, you examine the details and frown when you see a damage on the ball, you want to see the other options but how do you ask him. Luckily he notices your face of dissatisfaction and takes a glance on your box.

“Oh you want the other one?” he offers you as he reaches out for two more box.

You’re speechless, he is super considering and fast in reading face! Whoah his brain is sexy.

“I think this one can go back up there, it’s damaged.” You return to him the first box and he patiently returns it and even helps you examine the remaining two.

“You good with that two?? Want me to take out another one?”

“No need, thank you! I think I’ll get this one.” You keep the one you like and when you just want to return the second box on the other shelf, he gently picks it up and returns the box.

“I once worked in a market and when people return things randomly, it annoys me. So, let me it’s okay.” He smiles when his hand accidentally brushes yours.

“Thank you so much,” your sentence lingers, and he laughs, “Sungchan.”

“Thank you so much Sungchan!” you bow, and he calmly asks your name.

You introduce yourself and the tall man blurts out “What a pretty name!”

You invite him for coffee since you’re thankful for his help and he accepts it with great respect. After the two of you paid your ornaments, you bring him to one of your favorite coffee shop.

He settles for a hot chocolate and so did you. As you wait for the drinks, he begins talking and getting to know you. You learn that he is just a year younger than you and he is sent to the mall to buy some decorations because their lights burnt, and he needed to get a new one.

“Did you know earlier when you pull that puppy eyes, everyone will sure fall for it and help you.” He laughs between the hot chocolate cups you two hold to warm your hands.

You blush, “Well that is the first time someone told me that! My brother always hates me for pulling that face.”

He clicks his tongue, “That is because you look so cute! He can’t reject or deny you if you pull that face.”

Your mouth gape and you admire his smart brain. “You’re super smart. I haven’t thought about that.”

He giggles, “I heard that a lot.”

“Woah smart and confidence eh! You yourself are charming.” You admit it shyly and successfully makes the younger boy across you run a hand on his neck.

The talk continues and come to a pause when your phone rings and Jaehyun was telling you he is on his way home. You note the clock and it’s almost three already! You’ll be home  by four and need to prepare before the guest comes!

“Can we keep in touch?” you boldly ask after knowing you have to go home.

Sungchan nods, “Of course,” you hand him your phone and he types in his number.

“I’ll send a text and reply me when you get it.” You say and before you can ask him, he has sent you a reply.

The two of you smile although a bit sad that the short meeting has to come to an end.

“So I guess I’ll see you one day!” He reaches out his hand for you to shake, you shake his hand and smile back, “Yes, see you! Have a great Christmas and thank you for helping me.”

“I’m treating you lunch next time we meet!” he waves his hand and the two of you walk opposite ways.

Your drive back to the house is full of love song blasted out loud and once home you’re all smile when Jaehyun greets you for taking the decorations.

“Looking overly joyful eh?” he questions you as the two of you start putting the ornaments on.

You hide a mysterious smile, “Maybe it’s the Christmas vibes.”

He snickers, “Yeah maybe, or maybe it’s you falling in love with a stranger.”

You keep your story to yourself, Sungchan is no longer a stranger right?

  Merry Christmas 

 see you tomorrow! 

masterlist

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week Level 2 Day 1: Chase

Give Myself To You

When Spinner had the idea to visit his hometown and show off his old hideaways to Tomura, he thought it would be romantic. He could turn these sad places where he went to cry into secluded havens where he could spend some quality alone time with the love of his life, and do something he's wanted to do since their third date. He was not expecting a neon orange pickup truck to interrupt the date by hurtling towards them at high speed.

In which Spinner's old bullies want to run him over with their truck, Tomura wants to beat the shit out of them for daring to try, and Spinner just wants to pop the question.

~~~~~

This was not how this date was supposed go. Spinner just wanted to show his boyfriend around his hometown, give him a tour of all the isolated spots he would hide away in before he eventually shut himself up inside the Iguchi house. It was gonna be a nice romantic getaway, where the places he associated with some of his worst memories could be re-contextualized as he turned them into secluded little havens where he could woo his boyfriend –and eventually propose to him– in peace.

There they were, sitting together at the edge of the forest that semi-surrounded the town, watching the sun start to set over the hilly meadow that lay below them. Tomura was fully relaxed for once, leaning heavily on his boyfriend as he reminisced about the utter disaster that was the one time they tried to go clubbing, while Spinner was mustering up his courage and fidgeting with the rings in his jacket’s pocket. Just as he turned to face Tomura and was about to start the speech he had been revising in his mind since –admittedly– their third date, he saw the unmistakable neon orange pickup truck that belonged to Spinner’s worst nightmares, Nōtarin, Iyaga, and Rase, speeding in the background. And the truck was gunning straight for them!

“Oh no.”

“Hm, what do you mean ‘oh no’?” asked Tomura, who also uttered an “oh no” once Spinner pointed towards the truck that was now only a hundred meters away. With reflexes that were still etched into his bones after years of dealing with the trio, Spinner clutched his boyfriend close and launched the both of them down the hill in a barrel roll, barely missing the thick tires of the truck as it blew past them.

“What the hell was that shit?” yelled Tomura, as Spinner shot up, grabbed his hand, and lead them towards one of the few trees that dotted the meadow.

“Those are the assholes I told you about, the ones who always went after me. One of them must’ve seen me and recognized me, and now they’re picking back up from where we last left off!”

“You last left off with them trying to turn you into roadkill?!”

As they ducked into the hollow, a chorus of brash voices with heavy country accents boomed across the meadow.

“Shuichi, you purse designer’s wet dream! Why don’t you let us mount your lizard head to the wall like the hunting trophy you are!”

“Nōtarin, I saw someone with him, hey gecko geek, do you mind if we mount your friend too?”

“Damn Iyaga, keep it in your pants. Though to be fair, compared to talon-hands you’d probably be a better fit!”

At this point Tomura was already struggling against Spinner to march out of the hollow and wreak vengeance. “C’mon Spinner, I’ll mount their heads on our base’s wall!”

“Would you just gimme a sec to cool down a bit?!” Tomura relented and stopped squirming, letting Spinner hold him as he tried to stop trembling.

“Ugh, I swear, they always know how to get under my skin. And I really thought I’d be over them by now.”

Tomura turned to face Spinner and squeezed him back, taking his boyfriend’s scaly beak and pressing it into his scarred neck. “You’ll be alright. You’re just a little stuck, I’m right here if you need a push you know.”

Spinner sighed as he nuzzled the curve of Tomura’s shoulder. “I know I’m not the pinnacle of dating material but damn, people can have different tastes.”

Tomura snorted, “Oh please, as if those hillbilly bitches know anything about ‘good taste’. If your loyalty and empathy for empty husks like me aren’t enough to prove ‘em wrong, then you having the muscles to be able to wield a giant ‘fuck you’ sword should’ve done the job. The fact they can’t see any of that just shows that their IQ scores are all in the negatives.”

Looking up and seeing Tomura’s self-assured smile, the smile graced his face whenever he was so sure that he was right, knowing that he truly believed that his boyfriend was really all that, melted Spinner’s heart into a puddle of goo.

“Marry me.”

Maybe melted it a little too much.

“Huh?”

Realizing what just came out of his mouth, Spinner blushed violently and tried to start some damage control. “Uh shoot I mean um-”

“Hey Nōtarin, let’s ram into that tree! I think I hear them over there!”

Hearing that brought Spinner back to his senses, and he dragged Tomura out of the hollow, Nōtarin swerving just enough to only nick one of the headlights off the truck before resuming the chase.

“Son of a bitch, I had it all planned out and I messed it up!”

“Had what planned out?” asked Tomura, still in a whirl from what he was pretty sure he heard Spinner blurt just seconds ago.

“You know what, it’s fine, I’ll just do it on the fly. Follow me!”

They booked it across the meadow, Spinner weaving them around the hidden hills and valleys camouflaged beneath the waist-high grass. The truck kept slowly gaining on them, but the constant bangs and thumps of the truck bouncing against the uneven ground and the arguing between the driver and his passengers betrayed how little the tormentors knew about the terrain.

“Dammit, stay still you lizard-fuck!”

“Nah, let him keep running. Makes the chase more exciting!”

“Maybe if you’d gotten your driver’s license, you’d actually be able to hit him Nōtarin!”

“Fuck off Rase!”

Jumping over a particularly thick mud puddle, Spinner finally began the speech that had been previously interrupted.

“I’m sure you already know that I fell for you pretty fast-”

“Understatement of the year, but I’m not one to talk.”

The neon orange paint was splattered with mud, with the new coat of brown getting bigger as the wheels spun, sluggishly making its way through the puddle.

Spinner laughed breathlessly as he continued, “-yeah, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able put how much the love you gave me in return means to me into words. I couldn’t do it even if the ocean was made of ink and the earth was paper, it just wouldn’t be enough.”

“Shuichi…”

“And, well, since I can’t use words, I thought I’d show my devotion with some kind of gift, but I don’t really have much to give you except myself. Still, I’ll give that to you for the rest of my life if you want it.”

By this point they had stopped just a few feet in front of a moss-covered boulder, one that blended in with the green grass and was in the direct pathway of the truck that continued driving towards them at top speed.

Ignoring the oncoming truck, Spinner took Tomura’s other hand into his own, and softly asked, “Tomura, will you marry me?”

The truck hit the rock, skyrocketing up and over the couple. The screams of the driver and his passengers fell on deaf ears as Tomura gazed into bright, cherry-petal eyes and answered the proposal:

“You’re more than enough for me, you’re more than I could ever dream of asking for. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Not even a moment after he accepted, a loud crash echoed across the meadow as the truck collided with the ground, flipping over as it did so. The bullies were quick to exit the wreck and make their way towards the still lovestruck duo to attack them. It was a farce from the start, the newly established fiancés barely paying them any attention as they began to brawl.

“Look at you all smiley and shit,” said Tomura as he kicked Rase across the field.

“Why wouldn’t I be all smiles? I’m gonna get to marry to the love of my life! You should see your face right now, looks like your smile’s gonna split your face in two with how big it is!” exclaimed Spinner, dodging Nōtarin’s sluggish punches with ease.

“Touché, fiancé. I bet you’ve already got a plan for everything that comes next, you gooey romantic.”

“Well, I was thinking we could have a small ceremony, just us and the league. Nothing too fancy, we’d just do the vows, ring exchange, ‘I do’s’, and sealing it with a kiss, all within fifteen minutes tops. That way we can splurge on the reception, the best music-” Nōtarin screamed as his arm was sliced by Spinner’s hunting knife.

“-the most delicious food and drinks-” Nōtarin gurgled as the knife ran through his neck.

“-and a cake so big that’ll make everyone sick. We’d just have to grab someone to officiate the thing and make it official.”

“We can get Giran to do it, he’s got just enough connections that he could make it happen.” Iyaga howled as his chest caved in.

“And for the honeymoon, I was thinking about taking a joyride on the coastline. We could stock up the van and make stops at all the beaches, and maybe get rid of a few heroes along the way if we’re up for it.”

“That sounds good to me, I’m certainly looking forward to having some fun alone time to ourselves!” Tomura cried happily, as Rase joined Iyaga in the pile of dust that lay at his feet.

~

By the time they came down from the high of the fight, the sun was dipping below the tree line, Tomura and Spinner sprawled out next to each other on the bloodstained earth.

“Ah shit,” said Tomura, “I just realized that there goes my future date idea of murdering your hometown bullies.”

Spinner chuckled at his fiancé’s annoyed tone, “That’s okay, we only murdered a couple of them. Next time we can take down the town leaders who encouraged everything, make a day out of it.”

“Hmm, alright, but I’m planning it. It’s only fair.”

Satisfied, Spinner let out a sigh before suddenly sitting up. “Oh right, I gotcha these,” he said as he pulled the rings out of his pocket.

“It’s just a pair of those plastic rings from the arcade we went to a while back, but I figure we’re not gonna wear these for too long because they’re just engagement rings. We can rob a jewelry store together to pick out the wedding rings.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Tomura, as they each took turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers. Taking a second to let the presence of a ring on his finger sink in, Tomura smiled and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that Re-Destro only snapped off my first three fingers.”

“Well, that’s one way to say you’re happy to be engaged,” Spinner joked.

“Hm. Then I’ll say it more romantically, just for you.” This time, it was Tomura who took Spinner’s hands into his own as he spoke his piece:

“Shuichi, you are one thing in this world that I could never hate, and the only person I will ever promise myself to. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you the life you want to live. I love you, and I’ll continue to love you until the stars grow cold, and even after that.”

If that speech hadn’t already swept Spinner off his feet, then the deep kiss Tomura initiated sent his heart skyward with how much it fluttered. When they both came down to earth, they went about flipping the thoroughly beat-up truck right side up, and as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon, the newly engaged couple drove off into the ink and lavender sky.

[coconut-cluster]

The church bells used to ring in the morning. 

Roman remembered them clearly, even now, even after everything. He remembered waking up - always before Remus and their parents, sometimes before the sun rose - and eating breakfast on the porch, closing his eyes to feel the morning breeze brush his face, and in the distance, at six and noon on the dot, the bells would ring out from the church a few blocks away. It was an old church, with bells you had to manually pull ropes to play. The sound was almost haunting when the rest of the world was silent, but Roman liked the way it carried across rooftops to him; it was like a song played just for him, a way to know that no matter what, someone was out there ringing a bell to tell him a new day had begun, that everything would be alright.

But things hadn’t been alright for a while now - he didn’t need a song to know that. 

They hadn’t thought much of the floods when they started. Roman had no trouble recalling their casual dismissal; it was only near the coasts, after all. He and Remus made jokes about vacationing to kayak down the streets. And then they got worse, and then it was only near the oceans and nearby rivers, then only in the South, and then only, only, only- and then they were everywhere, and there was no ‘only’ anymore. He remembered the day he saw water trickling down their street despite the lack of rain for weeks; he’d turned to Remus and joked they could use those kayaks about now. In the end, he hadn’t really been wrong. 

The storms weren’t treated so lightly. Those started right in the middle of the country, and they almost fell victim to the same dismissal - they’re in tornado country, Roman’s mom had assured him when he frowned at the news report, it’s fairly common over there - until they started spreading farther and farther every night, impossible to ignore. The floods weren’t kind, but they weren’t disastrous for most, just a trash can floating down the street and, at worst, a car or two following behind, albeit the water damage in homes too low to avoid it. But the storms were a rude awakening. The thunder was loud, louder than any Roman had ever heard, and the lightning seemed to choose its targets with purpose: cars, houses, telephone poles. Roman remembered lying in bed late at night, listening to rain pound against the roof, counting seconds between the blinding flashes and deafening cracks. He remembered the night his father went to check the generator and Roman sang to himself as he waited for him to return. He didn’t. 

And then the storms stopped, seemingly at once. He remembered sitting in a blanket fort with Remus - a blanket fort, like they were ten again - and writing messages to each other on a notepad because their whispers couldn’t be heard over the rain, and then everything was quiet. They crawled out from between the draped blankets, staring at the windows, at the still world beyond them; their mom came running into the living room to pull the curtains wide, her face, scarred by creases of week-long worries, exultant as she watched the sun peek out from behind the clouds. Roman remembered padding down the sidewalk and studying the charred remains of trees and cars, of his old bike in the backyard and their picket fence. In the wake of the storm, their world was silent and burnt. 

They thought it ended there - the floods caused the storms, his mom had guessed, shrugging off Remus’ disbelieving scowls and Roman’s confused frowns. His mom always loved sunshine, and she was eager to just embrace its return. She dismissed their complaints of evening heat, of sweltering afternoon sun, of nights too warm to sleep in. She refused to leave when Roman and Remus told her it was getting worse; Roman remembered sitting in front of her one evening as she fanned herself and read one of her dime novels, begging her to come with them to their friend’s cabin in the north where they would be safer from the heat. He remembered Remus grabbing his arm and dragging him out to the car, remembered stifling his tears the whole drive because he couldn’t afford to be dehydrated, remembered a burning hope that his mom was at least happy when she went, happy in her sunshine. 

She wasn’t at home when they returned, and they’d had to return only a few weeks after arriving at the cabin - the temperatures up north went lower and lower as the days passed, and Patton had told them his little cabin just wasn’t prepared for that kind of cold. He’d be fine, he assured them, his parents had a house farther south that he could go to, but they needed to go back home and be safe. When they arrived, the house was empty. They didn’t talk about it. 

They didn’t talk about when the temperatures started dropping in their town, either. They just got towels and stuffed them between the floor and the doors, insulated the windows, gathered blankets and food and the space heaters from the shed. They hoped and prayed the cold wouldn’t last as long as the others - they weren’t sure they had the supplies to make it that long - but in the end, they just waited. Roman remembered being curled into a ball in a pile of blankets for hours, his legs and back cramping as he put his face between his knees in an effort to warm his frozen cheeks and nose. He and Remus were the lucky ones that time around; he heard crying from the streets one night, a night he’d never forget, howls of pain and anguish that led him to conclusions he hadn’t ever wanted to imagine.

When the cold passed, the relief never came. It was only fear, a trembling anticipation that gripped the heart and throat and held on tight, promising some vague terror just around the corner - but for a while, nothing came. Roman and Remus watched the skies, checked temperatures, listened at night for thunder or waves or an unimaginable plague to tap at their windows, but the world was quiet, peaceful again. Roman remembered almost feeling hopeful. 

And then, one day, he saw water trickling down the street, and he felt nothing at all. 

Weeks, months, years passed, and the cycle returned again and again. They knew not to question it anymore; no one had answers, and no one had time to find them in between storms and heat waves and frosts. Roman watched as his neighbors’ lights began to flicker off and stay off. Sometimes he’d hear crying in the night again - sometimes it was difficult to tell what was real or a memory - and it told him he and Remus were one step closer to being the only ones left, the only ones alive to watch for water or count the seconds or drive up north or seal the doors. He stopped listening to those cries at night. After a while, they stopped coming, anyway.

Now, here, today, it was morning. The neighborhood was silent - the city was silent, and deep down he knew it was because there was no one left to make a sound - and Roman had bundled himself up in a coat to fight the oncoming chill as he sat on his front porch. He remembered his mom watching him and Remus play with the neighborhood children from the same spot; he remembered waving to his elderly neighbor a few doors down as she watered flowers in the early afternoon; he remembered tossing soccer balls back to the boys who lived down the street; he remembered when he saw couples jogging together and people walking their dogs and kids riding their bikes down the sidewalks. He remembered when the world was bright and full of the sound of people living their lives. He hoped he never remembered this antithesis. 

And it’s there, as he’s sitting on his porch in the early morning, hoping for his memories to be full of song, that the church bells start ringing. 

[anythingbutmar]

Family meetings (mistake pt.2)

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After gaining information from Five you realize that the world is ending and you and Diego need a way to save the girls.

A/N: I know I covered a lot of stuff here, and I promise I’ll eventually get to the 60′s but I just think this serves for a multiparter and that’s what I plan on doing, hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: slight plot changes, teensy tiny bit of angst.

The next few days were a bit of a mess, Diego had to do a bunch of police work regarding some shootings and you gladly took the permit that your job gave you when a close relative died. You were in no way close to Reginald, but you still needed to process the fact that Five had appeared from the future rambling about stuff that Diego couldn’t understand.

After their meeting and the funeral he had told you everything he had gathered from it, which wasn’t much. “It was just a lot of nerdy words that you would have understood better than me.” He had said.

And so, now you were determined to know how the hell was he back there and why he seemed so worried all the time, you just needed to figure out what to do with your daughters, which led to where you were right now: knocking on Allison’s door, after trying with Vanya, who lived close to your place but wasn’t there, apparently.

“Hey girl, remember you owe me one from that time I covered you and Luther sneaking to Griddy’s years ago? Right, so I need you to take care of the girls for the day. Luna has some pending homework and Amber needs to take her vitamins at 2:00, okay? Have fun girls! I love you both!”

“Y/N wait, I have to-”

“I won’t take long I promise! Bye!” You yelled from the staircase.

Game on, little Five.

Your years of nightly adventures with Diego had made you quite observant, which helped a lot, since Five didn’t bother on leaving any information of his whereabouts, but you had seen him staring at what seemed to be a glass eye, and there was only one prosthetics factory near, so you gave it a shot and quelle surprise! There he was, yelling at some doctor, sweet as always.

“Oh jeez I’m so sorry! My son was severely damaged from this one time he fell from a tree and he tends to make up stories.” You interrupted, almost laughing at Five’s face. “I thought I had lost you, silly! Now let’s go.” You grabbed him by the ear with your hand heated and started leaving the room. “I apologize for his aggressive behavior! I promise you won’t ever see him again.” You stated before walking out and then poof! He was gone!

“Little shit.” You muttered before running outside where you found him standing calmly with that know-it-all smirk of his, he was rubbing his ear, which brought you huge satisfaction.

“What do you think you’re doing, Y/N?”

“What? Can’t I look after my beloved brother in law?” You batted your eyelashes and he gave you a deadpan look. “Okay, fine. I need you to tell me how you got here and why the hell do you have a fake eye?”

“And why would I do such a thing?” He asked, tapping his chin with irony.

“Because I can understand you! Your siblings may not but science is sort of my thing, I can help you.”

“Well, can you tell me how to stop the apocalypse?” He snapped.

“The what now?”

--

“The what now?” Diego repeated with a confused look.

“The apocalypse, he said we just have a few days to stop it and our only clue is a freaking eye.”

“And meanwhile Luther’s worried about a goddamned monocle.” Diego shook his head, sitting by your side on the bed. “He came by today, you know? To bring the girls and talk about that stupid thing which doesn’t matter at all, because the world’s ending anyways. The worst thing was that he kept mocking me about naming our daughter after the moon, he said it was because I missed him! I didn’t even think of that!”

“Don’t be like that honey, we’ll figure something out, for now I have an idea to make you feel bett-”

“Mommy?” Luna opened the door, rubbing her eyes. “I had a nightmare.”

“It’s ok baby, let’s go tuck you in ok?” You were about to stand before she gave you puppy eyes.

“Can I sleep with you? Just for tonight, pleaaaaase!” You looked at Diego and instantly knew. He could never resist his older daughter’s puppy eyes.

“Alright, come here, what was it about anyways?” You asked as she climbed on the bed, laying between you two.

“I can’t remember well, I think there was a big boom and suddenly everyone was gone! The whole planet was gone!” She made a gesture with her tiny hands and you shared a wide eyed look with Diego. So far, Luna hadn’t shown any signs of an ability, but how could she know about something that hadn’t happened yet?

You refilled your glass of water with your power before taking a large sip and passing it to your husband, who was caressing your daughter’s sleeping face in shock.

“Are you think-”

“Mommy? Luna scared me.” Amber entered your room and without even asking climbed on your bed and laid on Diego’s chest, immediately closing her eyes at the feeling of her dad’s heartbeat.

“I guess it’s sleepover night then.” He chuckled.

--

Next morning Diego gave you all a kiss on the forehead and left you a note saying he had to work early because there was another shooting at the mall, leaving you to have an all girls morning, which excited you to no end. You loved Diego more than you could ever possibly say, but you also loved having your own time with the kids, who loved it just as much.

You turned the radio on and started preparing pancakes for the three of you, flinching slightly in disgust at the thought of Diego’s favorite breakfast: a raw egg. You never understood him avoiding the possibility of a warm tasty meal, in reality, you never agreed much in terms of habits. For example, you enjoyed drinking sometimes, as you had discovered during that fateful night when you were younger, but he wasn’t bothered by it, and neither were you about his healthy way of living, at least most of the time.

And so, you were having a peaceful breakfast, occasionally laughing at Amber’s syrup stained cheeks, when Klaus knocked on the door looking... much like Klaus.

“Hey Y/N/N! Isn’t it hilarious that you married Diego but somehow we both ended up being Five’s hypothetical parents in the eyes of a corrupt doctor?!” He laughed, entering your place and admiring the decorations. “Anyways, hello there my girlies! It’s time for a family meeting!” He sang, making them laugh.

“A family meeting?” You asked, picking up the plates.

“Urgent matter, according to Luther, could be about his newfound muscle for all I care about, but he wants us all there so let’s go baby!” He whispered so his nieces wouldn’t hear him.

“Alright, just let me get ready.”

--

You arrived at the house and left the girls with Pogo, who started showing them around the greatest places, according to him, and entered the living room with Klaus.

“You’re a bit late, babe.” Diego simply stated gesturing towards everyone’s bored faces.

“Oh, Y/N “just had to get ready.”“ Klaus mocked you, already pouring himself a drink.

“Yeah well, time runs differently when you have kids, buddy.” You said, receiving a glass yourself.

“It so does.” Allison clinked her glass against yours smiling.

After that, Luther showed you a video of Grace and Reginald at the moment of his death, which was followed by a discussion about her state in which you obviously refused to turn her off, she was the closest thing you had to a mother and you would not give up on her, specially knowing how much she meant to Diego and how much Luna and Amber had loved her.

You chose to wait for Five and Diego left to talk to Grace. You were going to follow him but you realized that it was a private matter, and stayed with Vanya, who was the only one left.

“Want one?” You offered and she politely declined. “Alright then, who’s this Leonard?”

“I’m gonna kill Allison.” She turned red and covered her face with her hands.

“Come on Vanya! I might not be your sister but we had our time together too! And besides, I’m a great listener.” You smiled patting the couch, and she finally nodded and sat down. Truthfully, it didn’t take that much to convince Vanya to do something, just a few kind words, which mostly everyone lacked towards her.

And so, the evening went by with both of you laughing at her new crush and remembering past times. You and Vanya had spent many hours together on the academy because for some time she and Grace were tasked with training you because Reginald was too busy with the others, who were on a much more advanced level than you, and so, she kept you running around the staircases and growing plants in the garden. According to Reginald, you could use them as weapons, but you two just thought they were pretty.

In the end the old man was right, you were going to need those damned plants to defend yourself.

After hearing gunshots you saw as the love your life fell right on the couch where you and Vanya had been sitting on.

“Get down!” He whispered and you obeyed, taking Vanya with you. “The girls Y/N, where are they?”

“They’re in Pogo’s room. How many of them?” You asked back, putting your arm around Vanya in a protective matter.

“Just two.”

And right as he said so they entered the room shooting all around until Luther and Allison started fighting them. You stood and saw a large man and a smaller armed woman. Diego and Allison got busy with the guy and you hurried Vanya to a safe corner.

“Stay here!” You told her before running towards the others. They were arguing, for a change and then the couple started shooting again. Diego and Allison ran towards a different direction and you stayed as you noticed the man was now reaching towards Vanya.

“I don’t think so, big man.” You broke the window with a tree branch from the backyard and snatched his weapon with it before kicking him on the stomach, which was completely useless, the guy was huge.

Luckily, Luther appeared which allowed you to go get Vanya. You were about to run with her towards Pogo’s room but you heard screaming, and you looked just as a giant chandelier was about to fall on Luther. You tried to push it with wind but you weren’t fast enough.

Thanks to his strength he was able to lift himself up, revealing his inhumanly hairy chest and arms, a secret well hidden until that moment. Allison tried consoling him but he ran from her. It didn’t matter, you didn’t have time for that.

“I’ll go get them, don’t worry, you go check up on your mom and we’ll meet back home, ok?” You grabbed Diego’s shoulders and he silently nodded, running upstairs.

After making sure there were no scratches on them, you explained what had happened, to which they stopped crying because they both loved a good superhero story. You took both their hands and went home, happy to be in a safe place but with a terrible feeling in your gut, as if you had forgotten something.

You waited up for Diego, who arrived an hour later looking destroyed. “I had to d-do it, s-s-she was already g-gone.” And you understood perfectly, so you cuddled him all night, even though neither of you could sleep. Those guys were still out there, Grace was dead, Five was nowhere to be found and you still felt like something was missing.

Or someone.

“Klaus!” You exclaimed, startling your tired husband.

(Part one here)

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@ alexander-hamilhoe

[theycallmebecca]

February Ice Storm

It just occurred to me that I hadn’t really told you guys about the experience I had back in February with the ice storm that nailed us and knocked out power for us for 3 days but people in my city for up to 10 days.

Originally, I had planned to turn it into a drabble and I actually started it, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to revisit. Mentally, I wasn’t in a good place thanks to anxiety and an emotional rollercoaster of what’s going to happen.

I know I shared bits and pieces of what had gone down, but this a more in-depth account of my experience from the ice storm that hit Oregon Valentine’s weekend of this year.

Let me preface this by saying that we knew that we were going to get an ice storm... but it was the worst ice storm we’ve had in a long time. And it did an astonishing amount of damage that we are still trying to recover from a month and a half later. Driving around, it looked like a tornado had ripped through and knocked down trees randomly. With as many trees that fell, it’s shocking how many didn’t.

The storm hit Friday night, February 12th, and it was just cold. Then about 3 am, the power went out. I know this because that’s when I suddenly found myself in the complete dark (no alarm clock, etc.) I didn’t think much of it and went back to sleep.

I was rudely awaken a few hours later by the sound of trees cracking and crashing to the ground. Let me tell you, that is a terrifying experience.

Knowing I still didn’t have power, I put on multiple layers and tried to make myself comfortable. However, by this time, it had started to warm up so there was lots of trees cracking all around me. Which was great for my anxiety.

Neither was the fact that the power outage had taken out the cell phone networks in my area. More on that in a moment.

Then I heard some neighbors outside, so I went out to talk to them and saw that a large limb from the pine tree by my building, was practically laying on my car. Some guys walking past, assured me that it was just on my car and not in my car.

It was cold, so I went back inside and tried to distract myself. But my main source of distraction, aka my phone, wasn’t really an option to me. And I could not access any of the music I would normally use to help myself relax when my anxiety is acting up.

I finally found a place in my apartment where I got good reception... by the sliding glass door that over looks the backyard where one tree had already uprooted itself and where more trees could easily come crashing down.

Anxiety is being amazing at this point. I’m sure you can tell.

Especially when on top of the trees cracking... I got the beautiful thunking of ice dropping out of trees as it warmed up. And we’re talking like chunks of ice as big as baseballs!

It was about that time that I heard a crack that was too close for comfort and knew, without a shadow of a doubt that the limb had broken and it was on my car. Two steps out my front door confirmed my fear, but when I tried to go see how bad it was, I heard the cracking of limbs and had to run back to the safety of my apartment as more limbs and ice baseballs dropped.

I was able to text my parents and asked if someone could try and come get me. They live parallel to me across two major roads, so it wouldn’t be a long trip if they could make it a little later once it had warmed up some more.

While I waited, I packed some stuff and tried to read, but it honestly was just too much.

And as annoying and little brother like as my brother-in-law can be, I have never been so happy to see him as I was that day when he and my mom showed up to get me.

By that time, I was flinching at every little noise that seemed to echo through my small apartment. And it was just becoming way too much. Even as I write this, the memory of that morning has me crying because I was too scared to cry on that day.

While he was waiting for me, my brother in law looked at my car and saw that the branches were resting on it, but the car looked ok.

The short drive to my parents house was shocking with the number of trees and power lines that were down. Also shocking was how many trees that didn’t land on houses. We did see a couple of cars smashed by trees though. And street lights were out every where.

I was very happy when we got to my parents house which is bigger than the building with 8 apartments that I live in. Their backyard is full of pine trees and they had lost a lot of limbs and stuff, but with everyone else there, you couldn’t hear the noises that had ramped up my anxiety.

Once I was there, the rest of the day passed relatively easy. I was with my family and that helped calm my anxiety because I knew I was in a safe place. We ordered pizza from a place that still had power. My brother in law built fires my parents fire places and my mom and I played dominos by flashlight. I also got some reading done.

Then I slept in my parents guest room... and the bed isn’t comfortable and the house was probably in the 45F range.

Sunday morning aka Valentine’s Day was warmer than the day before and my mom and I drove to my apartment to see what we could do about the limb on my car... only to find that someone had already pulled it off and chopped it up. We confirmed that my car was ok and the only damage to it was that my $5 license plate frame had been broken and the corner of my license plate was bent.

After that, we drove out to a grocery store that had power for some food, more logs for the fireplace and coffee... that my mom had to stand in line for 20+ mins to get.

When we got back to their house, we found a flurry of activity happening as my parents next door neighbor had rented a giant generator the day before to keep his house going and offered to let us plug some extension cords in so we could charge stuff, use small appliances and use a small heater.

So our Sunday afternoon was spent with our phones plugged in and a small space heater barely keeping us warm. But it was an improvement from the day before.

Then my uncle showed up. He’s been going back and forth between living with his ex girlfriend and living with my parents. With him at my parents house and knowing that my own apartment was still above 50F and therefore warmer than my parents house, I opted to sleep in my own bed that night.

So after getting pizza for dinner again (🤢) my mom dropped me off at my apartment for a cool night.

I started in my living room knowing that my back wouldn’t like 10+ hours in my bed and I actually got some light from a lamp by plugging it into my computer’s battery backup, which really did raise my spirits a bit.

But eventually I ended up in my room with the door closed, knowing I’d be able to lock in more heat that way. And it did work... but it was still a long night.

Because of no power and the fact that I’ve been working from home since March 2020, I told my boss I was taking the day off. At that time, the power company still still quoting power back on Monday. For me, they were even saying early Monday.

But my apartment was still cold and dark when I woke up. Which meant I cleaned out my fridge and freezer and then took my laundry out to the laundromat by my mom’s office that had power and heat.

So I took care of my laundry and then was going to head back to my parents, until I decided to see if Office Depot had any sales going on with laptops. And I ended up driving across town to buy one in case I needed to find some place to work other than my apartment for a couple days.

After that, I went to my parents house and watched a movie with my niece while power crews worked outside. I was still hoping they’d be able to get the power and internet back up so I wouldn’t have to drive to work Tuesday, but it wasn’t looking good.

By 5:30, I knew even if the power did some how come back on, I was still going to be without internet, so I left my parents and went to the grocery store for things to make a lunch that didn’t require a fridge since I still didn’t have that. And they were operating on their backup generators and actually stopped letting people into the store as I was checking out.

That evening, I played on my new laptop a bit and chatted with friends since my cell network was almost back up to speed, but I was in bed when the power came back on around 10 pm. And you sure as hell know I got out of bed and turned on every light switch just because I could!

I slept much better than night and did end up going into the office the next day for a partial day, but when I got home I had internet again.

For me and my family, we were without power for some 56 hours or so. But we had family friends and coworkers who went a good 10 days without power.

We don’t get storms like this and we were not prepared for it to be as bad as it was.

But the biggest take away for me is now necessarily how dependent I am on technology to entertain me... but for how to help me get through a rough situation.

Other than seeing a few members of my family once a week, I’ve been relatively on my own for the last year. And it’s been my “pocket friends” that have been my saving grace, my connection with the outside world. They’re the people that I turn to when I’m having a problem. And I was almost completely cut off from them for two whole days.

Add to that the rain storms and other anxiety reducing sounds that I’ve come to depend on. With the networks down, I couldn’t access any of those coping tools either.

My anxiety was the worst that Saturday morning than it has been in a long time. But by Monday evening, I was so tired emotionally and physically that I was just a mess. The roller coaster of the unknown was the worst part. You could make plans... but without power, there were things you just couldn’t do.

All in all, it was a once in a life time experience. As in, I don’t want to experience it again. Ever.

I think it will be a long time before a power outage doesn’t trigger anxiety within me. Because this last one was rough.

And now that I’ve relived this all in hopes that it might help me recover a little from what happened, it’s time for me to try and get some sleep. Probably shouldn’t have written this at night.. but oh well.