#want to borrow a stepladder

[creatrixcymraes]

Read a very long scaremongering post about internet culture and the loss of community and it ended with "do you even know the names of your neighbours?" ...as if that was a big gotcha?

Like yeah I do, on one side is Stuart and Rena who are expecting their second grandchild very soon, and on the other side is Mark and his new missus Tracey and his son Ben (who is moving out soon). We send each other Christmas cards and compliment each other's Christmas and Halloween decorations. We bring each other's bins in.

If you want community with your neighbours you just have to accept that it's going to be a little awkward at first and push through the discomfort to make the barest of efforts.

I was definitely glad we already knew each other on the day I woke up at 7am to realise our gas hob had been leaking overnight and the house was full of gas. Mark next door saw the fire engine pull up, came out to see what was going on, and brought us into his house for a cuppa while we waited for the all clear.

Idk I'm just sick of people acting all doom and gloom about things that they absolutely have the ability to change 🤷🏻‍♀️

[sunshinehaze1]

The First Step

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You only wanted to borrow his step ladder, but Joel insists on changing the light bulb for you. You find a way to thank him.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. no outbreak AU. m!oral, reader has hair that can be tugged, reader is tall enough to suck Joel’s dick while he’s standing on a step ladder. a little competency kink.

a/n: I couldn’t stop thinking about sucking Joel off while he’s being neighborly. Please don’t tell my WIPs I ignored them to write this! 🫣 not beta'd. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 1,373

ao3 | ml

You're perfectly capable of changing the lightbulb in your kitchen yourself. You've lived on your own long enough, handling the odds and ends of home ownership without much fanfare—the big projects reserved for the professionals. So when you had asked your extremely attractive neighbor if you could borrow his stepladder, you surprised yourself when you accepted his offer to change it for you.

When you moved in next door, he was the first neighbor on the street to introduce himself, and you recall his generous offer to help if you ever needed it. Fortunately, you caught him on a Saturday morning when his daughter, Sarah, was at a sleepover the night before. He didn't have to pick her up until noon, so he had the time to help and was more than happy to. He's a contractor after all; he could change a light bulb in his sleep.

It has gotten increasingly warmer since Joel entered your house. Your AC works fine, but you are sweating, gawking at him as he moves through your space. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt within an inch of its life as he carried the ladder and situated it below the light fixture in the middle of the kitchen. He's now perched on the ladder with you standing on the other side of the counter.

You watch as he extends his arms above his head to remove the dead bulb, revealing a sliver of tan skin and a trail of thick hair toward the waistband of his sweatpants. You'd think he wore them on purpose, to taunt you, if you hadn't interrupted his quiet morning. And, he couldn't possibly know that you go absolutely feral for men in sweats.

"Shouldn't take me but a minute to change it." The dulcet tone of his southern drawl going straight to your pussy. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

You smile appreciatively, "Thanks, Joel." Hoping he can't sense the hitch in your breath. "You didn't have to do this. But I appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, sweetheart." He winks down at you. "What are neighbors for?"

This was certainly new for you. You've never had a neighbor as polite and handsome as him. "Sweetheart", and then a wink. Fuck, he's charming and competent. The sudden urge to make a move and suck his cock is overwhelming.

"Could you hand me that one there?" His question jolts you back into the room, and you see Joel pointing to the new lightbulb on your countertop.

Bulb in hand, you approach the ladder and pass it to him. His calloused fingers brush over yours. "Thanks."

You don't back away from the ladder as you watch him insert the new bulb into the light fixture. After the final turn secures it in place, he looks down to see that you haven't moved. Your grip is tight around the ladder's handle, and his bulge is less than an inch from your nose.

Incredulous, he inhales deeply before speaking, "Whatcha still doing down there, darlin'?"

With a coy smile and lustful eyes, "Just admiring the view."

If you hadn't been so close, you would've missed the twitch of Joel's cock below the dangling drawstring. Seemingly, the only part of him that can form a response. His mouth agape, unable to form words before your hands are on him.

You trace the outline of his dick with your finger tip over the soft fabric. It begins to stiffen underneath your touch. His eyes are locked on you as you trace your fingers along the edge of the elastic waistband and his lower stomach. Nails drag through the coarse hair below his belly button, sending shivers up his spine before dipping beneath the elastic waistband.

He doesn't dare avert his gaze as you shift his pants lower on his hips to reveal his black boxer briefs. You palm his cock through the stretchy fabric, your tongue glides over your bottom lip, mouth watering at the feel of him. He's big. Eager to find out just how big, you pull the briefs down just far enough to tuck them underneath his balls.

Your fingers wrap firmly around his base, offering a teasing grip before you move up the length of his shaft. When you reach his thick head, you swipe your thumb through the precum that's leaked from the tip. The added lubrication eases the down stroke back to his base as you feel his cock harden further in your grip.

"Go on, hun." Joel muses breathily. "Wrap those pretty lips around me."

A wicked smile your only retort. You twist and swirl the tip of your tongue up and down the silken skin of his cock. Taking your time as it travels along the prominent vein on the underside. You make your way back up to his head and circle your tongue around it before wrapping your lips fully around him. Inch by inch, you take him further into your mouth.

You set an unhurried pace up and down his length, relishing the taste and feel of him inside your mouth. Slick pools in your panties from the moans Joel releases above you. One of his hands swiftly grips the ladder's handle to balance himself on shaky knees.

You ease off of him, leaving kitten licks over his tip before collecting saliva in your mouth. He lifts the hem of his tshirt just in time to see as string of spit slowly dribble from your lips to his cock. Your palm wraps firmly around him and coats his cock with steady strokes, lifting it towards his stomach, his balls warm and inviting.

With continued strokes, you pull one of his balls into your mouth. Joel's head lolls back at your moan with your mouth full of his balls. Heat roils low in his stomach as it reverberates through his body.

Releasing his balls with a pop, you twist your slicked up palm around the base of his shaft while you slide his cock back into your wet, warm mouth. The weight of his dick rests on your tongue as you relax your throat to take more of him.

"Oh, fuck!" He groans and spits out. Your fingers dig into his ass cheeks to pull him closer until the tip of his cock kisses the back of your throat and your nose is buried in the thatch of hair at his base. His grip on your hair tightens with a pleasurable sting, and his body stiffens. You pause to inhale his scent while savoring the fullness of him inside you.

When the need to catch your breath overcomes you, you pull back quickly. Spit sputtering as you empty your mouth of him. He cradles the back of your head with his large hand, fingers tangling through your hair. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes; he swipes his thumb along the top of your cheek to clear them before they can fall.

"You look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You smile at him before you take him back in your mouth and begin sloppily moving back and forth over his cock, cradling his balls in your hand. His moans and groans echo louder throughout the kitchen, and you feel his balls begin to tighten in your palm. You pick up the pace, eager for him to cum so you can drink him down.

Joel gently moves his hips in sync with your movements. Emitting labored grunts with each thrust. His stomach tightens and you feel his cock begin to pulsate on your tongue before he lets out a final grunt and paints the inside of your mouth with his spend.

With hooded lids, he watches as you swallow it down. Met with a beaming smile, he watches as you swipe at the corners of your mouth, sucking the errant spend off your thumb, not letting a drop go to waste.

Joel descends the ladder, tucking himself back into his pants. "Christ, darlin', a 'thank you' would've sufficed." He huffs a laugh. "But you won't hear me complaining."

"Good, because I think I might have another bulb out. Upstairs." You muse innocently and grab his hand to lead him to your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 🫶🏻

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 102)

Welding while three days overdue in a pregnancy is hard Uzi realized.

The inside of the shuttle was warm enough that the wind and weather outside wasn't something to worry about, but the amount of strain the baby was putting on her internals was slowing her down heavily.

Even still… it was almost finished.

All that was left was the internals, the controls and the little bit of air they needed to cool their systems. And it would be ready.

And so right now she was putting in the cramped recharge pods that would be the bulk of the inside, small little upright beds that filled the function of a place to rest and…not much else.

When space is at a premium, it would have to do.

Khan was working on the airlock, big, steel hydrologic doors. His expertise. So they were nearly working side by side.

Uzi stretched upwards to reach the ceiling from the step ladder she was using,sealing up a messily managed cluster of wires within a tube of aluminum. And then doubled over in pain.

She made a wince and a squeak and held her expanded abdomen as a wave of pain shot through her.

Khan was on her in an instant, taking one of her hands in his own and helping her off the stepladder.

“Uzi! Are you alright? Is the baby-”

“N-no! No. Just uh… just them kicking me in the stomach. Ow…” She calmed him. “I almost wish…”

Khan still held her and made her sit in one of the incomplete charge pods, checking her over.

“I'm fine. Dad.” She almost laughed, but it turned into another wince as the baby proceeded to kick the shit out of her insides once more.

“Agh…”

“Maybe you should sit the rest of the construction out dronelette… you need rest.”

“What I need is to get this done. This was my plan and it needs to work and-” She struggles to get out of the pod, legs kicking our uselessly.

“And you have been every single day you have been able. It's just finishing touches, then we start packing what we can.”

Uzi crossed her arms in a huff.

“I don't wanna be useless.”

“No offense dronelette, but I think your body has more say about that then your mouth.” He smiles sheepishly, gesturing to the fact she couldn't even get out of a shallow pod by herself.

“Bite me.”

He laughed and helped her out of the pod, not letting go until both her feet were on the ground and she was steady on them.

“Where's N? Still on patrol?” He asks, hand still on her back.

“Yeah, he'll be out for awhile…”

“I gotcha.” He peered out the door, flagging down somebody.

“Nico! Can I borrow you for a minute?” He shouted, at the purple eyelighted door gaurd, who was deep in conversation with his partner.

“Aye sir!” He rushed over with a lopsided grin. Goggles bouncing on his head.

“Can you lead my daughter back to her apartment for me?” Khan asks, smiling happily at the young man.

“Dad! I can walk on my own!” Uzi protested, but it went in one ear and out the other.

“Sí Mr. Doorman.” Nico replied, getting into place at Uzi's side despite her indignant grumbles.

“Thank you, Varga.” Khan grinned, before heading back inside the ship. Nico and Uzi look at each other.

“After you senora?”

“I'm not that much older then you…” Uzi smirked, raising her eyebrow. And Nico just laughed.

“Hehe… I'm just being polite.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “You snapped at me for my manners once.”

“Huh?” Uzi wracked her brain. “Oh! Were you the same guy who was staring at Tera when she was a pillbaby?”

They began to walk, passing through the doors of the bunker.

“Guilty. Forgive me? Por favor? I was just surprised… you never struck me as someone who wanted kids, at least… at the time.” He grinned.

“I think I was just in a bad mood that day. I was getting lots of stares.” Uzi admitted, feeling a little self conscious.

“Lo siento, aren't you always in a bad mood?”

“Hey!” She snarled as they passed by several residential doors, before she deflated and smiled. “I guess you're not wrong.”

He laughed again. It sounded… familiar somehow.

“If dad's gonna have you tail me, I need to pick up my daughter from a freinds house before I head home.” She spoke, and at her words, his smile seemed to get a little pained.

“Of course. It's Tera right?” He asked, cocking his head. “How… is she?”

“Tera? You mean other then destroying everything soft she can get her fangs on? She's great, she's so energetic, she's a little hard to keep track of.”

He smiles, then looks confused. “Fangs?”

Uzi looks guilty, looking away from him.

“That's… my fault. My oil is… uh, effected by a condition…” She shows him a flash of her own fangs. “And I didn't realize it was contagious that way until it was too late.’

Nico furrows his brow, Uzi mistakes his concern for judgement. “It doesn't seem to effect her negatively! She's happy and healthy, it's just… she'll look different, is all.”

Nico nods once. “I wasn't judging.”

“So long as she is happy, I don't think anyone will judge. You took her in when… no one else wanted to, or could.”

“If no one has thanked you yet. Let me be the first.” He smiles, for once it seems to go up to his visor. “Gracias, Miss Doorman.”

“Uh… you're welcome?” She returns a confused smile as they stop in front of a door that reads “von Roth”.

Nico nods again before coughing and pulling out a little military canteen, taking a swig of it.

Uzi looks at him curiously.

“Ah, software issue… I go through coolant like my abuelo did battery acid! Hehe.”

Uzi nods, satisfied with his answer before knocking on the door with three quick raps.

A drone with light blue eyelights answers the door with a beaming smile. “Oh! Mrs Doorman! You're here to pick up Tera yes?” His accent is slightly Italian, and he smells slightly of fermented oil.

“That's right.”

“I'm Jason! Nice to meet ya!” He shakes her hand firmly. “My Flower’s getting her now. What a good kid you have, treats my daughter like a princess!”

“Uh, thank you Jason.” Uzi says awkwardly.

Delilah pops her head put under his arm, and he chuckles before moving out of the way for her.

“Hi Uzi! Here she is!”

Tera is handed to her… with a big fat purple bow tied up in her hair and forced into a little grey dress.

She looks defeated. Looking up at her mother with eyes that pray ‘please help me.’

“Oh God! What happened to you!?” Uzi smiled, incredibly amused at Tera's deadpan expression.

“Dress up.” Tera answers, as Delilah squeals.

“Look how adorable she looks! Though it was a lot of effort to get her in that dress…” She shows off the tiny scratches on her hands.

considering that Tera resisted being dressed in anything. The fact the Delilah was not in worse shape was astonishing.

“I'd say… Thank you for watching her.”

“Oh, no problem! She's a sweetheart, any time you need!” Delilah answers, before her husband pulls her into a little head nuzzle.

“Absolutely! Kiara needs more freinds like her!” He waves as Nico and Uzi move off, Tera crossing her arms in indignation.

“Not a fan of the dress chica?” Nico asks with an amused look.

“No.” Tera answers, shaking her head and pouting in her mother's arms. It's not until she does the toddler equivalent of a double take that she notices him and stares, cocking her head.

“Heh, Heya kiddo.” He smiles, face soft. Uzi raises a brow.

“Hi! Like you!” She says immediately, beginning to vibrate. “Name?”

“Ah. Nico.” He replies.

“Hi Nico!” She replies back, grinning visor seam to visor seam. Forgetting for a moment all about her distaste for the dress she was in.

But… too quickly, Uzi was at her door, and it was time to say goodbye.

“Thanks for walking with me. It was nice, even if my dad made you.”

“Don't mention it. You both take care, s��?” He cocked his head.

“Bye Nico!” Tera hollered, waving with all her might. And then; “Adiós!”

Uzi blinked. “Where did you learn-”

Nico was gone very, very quickly.

Who knew languages were inheritable?

Next ->

[arc852]

19. Out of Reach

Definition: outside the distance to which someone can stretch out their hand.

Summary: Jimmy and Joel have been playing a 'game' for a while now. Jimmy would try his very best to not get caught while Joel was the one who tried to catch him. For Joel, it was fun. For Jimmy? It was terrifying.

G/t: Joel is normal-sized, Jimmy is a borrower

Warnings: Fear and feeling helpless and trapped

Word Count: 1843

AO3 Link

Okay, I just finished this one yesterday and its already become one of my favorites. I really love how this one came out.

Oh and before there is any confusion, this is not part of the BBBCAU. This takes place in a completely seperate universe.

I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 Jimmy ran up the length of his string as fast as he could. He hadn’t expected Joel to get home so early but there he was, at the door and hurriedly trying to take his shoes off so he could run and try to catch Jimmy. Fortunately for the borrower, Jimmy made it up to the shelf with plenty of time.

 Joel finished yanking off his shoes and ran over to said shelf. He reached up on his tippy toes but his hand only reached the very front of the shelf. Jimmy’s breath hitched at the sight of the hand so close. He further pressed himself against the wall, thankful Joel wasn’t any taller. He heard the human huff.

 “What, are you pressed up all the way back towards the wall?” Joel asked, still trying to reach out his fingers to try and grab a hold of Jimmy. But Jimmy wasn’t moving.

 “...Yes.” Jimmy answered after a moment of hesitation. He wasn’t sure when it had started but he had started speaking back to Joel at some point during this whole thing. Joel had been surprised at first but Jimmy talking had just seemed to motivate him more in trying to catch him. Jimmy sort of regretted speaking because of that but he couldn't take it back. “Of course I am.” He added, because why would he put himself so close to the edge like that?

 Joel sighed and then his hand left the shelf. Jimmy let out a small sigh of relief himself. “Well, you’re lucky I don’t have a stepladder or anything. Though I suppose if I did have one you would be back in the walls before I could come back with it, huh?” Joel laughed at that. “Oh well, I guess you win this one. But you’re bound to make a mistake sooner or later, and when you do, it’ll finally be my turn to win.”

 Jimmy shivered at that. That was the last thing he wanted, for Joel to ‘win’. He had no clue what Joel’s plans were for if he ever did end up catching Jimmy, but Jimmy was determined to not find out.

 Joel’s footsteps retreated and Jimmy raised his head a little to see Joel sit himself down on the couch and take out his phone. Jimmy bit his lip, realizing the predicament he put himself in. There was no entrance into the walls up here, the closest ones were down below and in the kitchen. And with Joel staying in the living room, Jimmy was essentially trapped.

 It was fine though. All Jimmy had to do was wait for Joel to leave and then Jimmy could climb back down and head back home. Joel probably thought Jimmy was already back in the walls anyway. It would be fine.

 Except, Joel continued to stay in sight of the shelf. At one point he went into the kitchen but even from the kitchen Joel would be able to see Jimmy trying to leave. It had already been a couple of hours, why wasn’t Joel going to his room yet?

 Jimmy took a deep breath. It would be fine, he could stay here as long as he needed to. He might have to wait for Joel to head to bed but that was fine. Just as long as he wasn’t caught.

 But Jimmy hadn’t expected Joel to, at some point, glance up at the shelf again and be able to see him from where he was on the couch. Joel’s eyes widened and he stood up. “Jimmy? Are you still there?”

 Jimmy thought about staying quiet but then his eyes locked with Joel’s and he knew it was useless anyway. “M-Maybe I am, what about it?”

 Joel tilted his head and crossed his arms. “You’re usually back in the walls by now. So what…wait.” Joel’s eyes filled with a sudden realization. “You don’t have an entrance up there, do you?”

 No, no, no, no, no! Joel wasn’t supposed to realize that. “N-No, I do, I just-” Joel cut him off as a smile spread across the human’s face.

 “You totally don’t. Otherwise you would be long gone by now. Oh this is great.” Joel plopped back onto the couch, keeping an eye on the shelf. “Looks like my win is finally within reach.”

 Another shiver ran across Jimmy’s spine. He couldn’t get caught. “You’ll have to go to bed at some point.” Jimmy said, trying his hardest to keep the shakiness out. “I have a lot of patience.”

 Joel chuckled, making himself comfortable on the couch. “So do I. At least when it comes to this. I’m not planning on going to bed anytime soon.”

 Jimmy brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. He had to hope that he could wait Joel out. That Joel will go to bed or even end up falling asleep on the couch, either one worked. He just had to wait some more. He could do that. He had to do that.

 And so, both human and borrower waited. Joel spent most of his time on his phone, while Jimmy sat there just trying not to panic too much. At some point, Joel’s phone died and he sighed but pocketed it and glanced at the time. It was already well past when Joel usually went to bed and Jimmy was as stubborn as always. Joel huffed and looked back up at the shelf. He could just barely make out Jimmy’s figure in the way back.

 “Come on.” Joel finally said, breaking the silence. Jimmy jumped, startled by the sudden voice. “You gotta be tired or hungry or whatever by now, just come down already.”

 Joel was starting to sound frustrated, which was not a good thing for Jimmy. “Not going to happen Joel.”

 Joel groaned and threw his head back against the couch. “You really don’t want me to win that badly? It’s getting a bit ridiculous.” 

 Something in Jimmy broke at that. “Of course I don’t!” He shouted, his voice far louder than Joel had ever heard it. It made Joel sit up at full attention, eyes wide. “Of course I don’t want you to ‘win’, I have no idea what you have planned for me! You’re acting like this whole thing is just a fun game for you but for me it’s terrifying!” Jimmy breathed in and out, everything finally coming out about what he thought of Joel’s little ‘game’. He wasn’t sure what finally made him say it but it probably had something to do with the fact that…that…

 That he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Not without being caught by Joel. His breathing became shaky and he slowly realized there were tears streaming down his face at the realization.

 Joel’s eyes were still wide. Still trying to process what Jimmy had said. “Are…Are you crying?”

 Jimmy sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yes.” Jimmy’s voice cracked. He didn’t see any reason to lie. It was obvious.

 Joel was silent, which was more terrifying than anything the human could have said. He heard some shuffling and then something dragging. He looked up to see what was happening in just enough time to see Joel’s face come into view. Jimmy’s breath hitched as he was face to face with the human for the first time.

 And then Joel’s hands were in view and Jimmy pressed himself even further into the wall, wishing he could melt into it. Wishing he was anywhere but here. “No, no, Joel, please don’t…” He cried, more tears replacing the ones he had just wiped away.

 The large hands came up on either side of him and Jimmy flinched and braced himself. The hands scooped underneath him and suddenly Jimmy was sitting in Joel’s cupped hands. His body shook, his fear overwhelming him. 

 “Caught you.” Joel said, his voice low. Jimmy let out a whimper, feeling helpless and pathetic. Joel stepped down and was back on the floor, still holding onto Jimmy. Jimmy shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see what was going to happen.

 But they quickly opened again when Jimmy realized he had been put down. He looked around, realizing Joel had placed him on the kitchen counter. He looked up. Joel was still there, looming over him but he quickly crouched down so he was more eye level with Jimmy. Jimmy scooted back, fear still in control.

 “I finally won. And…now you can go.” Joel said, eyes glancing away for a moment. Jimmy’s eyes widened, not knowing if he heard him right.

 “W-What?” Jimmy said, his voice a sharp contrast from his earlier yelling. 

 Joel sighed and looked back at Jimmy, meeting his eyes. Jimmy had the overwhelming urge to tear his eyes away from Joel’s but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I said, you can go. I…nothing was ever going to happen to you if I won. I just…I thought we were playing a game. I thought you were in on it.” Joel shook his head, eyes not leaving Jimmy’s still. “I’m sorry.”

 Jimmy felt…well, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He had been caught by Joel, finally. But Joel…wasn’t going to keep him? Or do anything with him? What was happening? 

 Finally, Jimmy tore his gaze away from Joel’s, eyes instead moving over to the shelf he had been on not moments ago. But now, underneath it, there was a stepladder. “I thought you said you didn’t have a stepladder?” Jimmy said, letting it distract him for a moment.

 Joel’s eyes briefly glanced over at the stepladder before settling back on Jimmy. “I lied.” He said simply. 

 Jimmy let out a small breath. “Oh.”

 Joel’s gaze softened and he sighed. “I really am sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Or make you think I would…do anything to you.” Joel shook his head and then stood up. Jimmy couldn’t help but flinch back. “I’ll leave you alone now. I won’t…try and catch you anymore.”

 Joel looked at Jimmy one last time and then turned around and left. Jimmy heard the door to his room shut and suddenly, Jimmy was alone.

 His entrance back into the walls was right behind him but for some reason, Jimmy couldn’t get himself to move. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, Jimmy was still trying to process it all.

 But the one thing he was sure of, was that Joel had let him go. And, apparently, had always had the intention of letting him go. This whole thing really had been a game to him but not in the malicious way Jimmy had first thought.

 Joel thought it was fun because he thought Jimmy also found it fun. It seemed like, the second he had realized Jimmy was scared, he stopped playing.

 Jimmy slowly stood up, his legs feeling wobbly. He looked over towards Joel’s room, watching for a long moment. When nothing happened, Jimmy turned around and walked toward his entrance into the walls.

 He had a lot to think about.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Merry Little Christmas

Druig x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Prompt: @the-sunflower-room “can’t stop thinking about druig and have yourself a merry little christmas- so cozy 😭🙏🏻”

Note: This was actually requested last year, I believe, but I’ve always wanted to write it. I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it, but I hope you like it! Happy Holidays, everyone <3

Warnings: None! Just cozy Christmas celebrations <3

Word Count: 1.6k words

Reader Is: Gender Neutral!

Druig was never one for holidays. He wasn’t a scrooge, per se, but, as an Eternal, the seasons came and went so quickly. Years were mere blinks to a being who was thousands of years old. However, the look on your face as you put the ornaments on the tree made something stir around his heart, he had to admit.

He was sipping cocoa from a mug with a snowman on it, one from your vast collection. Kingo was in the kitchen, mixing up beverages, which was why he sensed a bit of liquor in the chocolatey beverage. It was still good, obviously, but he definitely blamed that for the rosy hue his cheeks had taken on.

Definitely not the cute little reindeer antlers you were wearing. Definitely not the way your laughter sounded from across the room.

All of the Eternals were there. A rare feat, but with the danger defeated, for now at least, it was cause for celebration, a time to be with family. It was your house you were all celebrating in, a large place tucked away in Northern Michigan, which, at this time of year, was absolutely covered in a thick layer of snow, more and more fluffy flakes coming down as the moments passed.

You spent your time as a writer. One of the most prolific of your time, the reviews said. But then again, you did have a thousand year head start on the rest of them.

Druig would never admit to it, but he had read them. All of them, every single one. He’d borrow them from libraries, read excerpts in bookstores, but Makkari had a collection of them, too. She was your most loyal beta reader. Therefore, when one went missing, she always had a pretty decent suspicion of who the culprit was.

And he wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure most of your love interests shared a certain resemblance with…well, him. He didn’t like the way it stirred around in his chest, the way it made him feel so warm and…hopeful. But then again, he’d never asked you what you felt.

“(Y/N), where are your Christmas records?” Phastos asked, standing over with his husband, Ben, as they dug through a crate of records.

“Oh! I forgot to bring them down, I think. I’ll go grab them. I needed to get the topper anyway.” You stepped down from your stepladder and handed the ornament in your hand to Sprite, who was sitting on the floor under the tree, shaking gifts. Typical.

Druig watched as you left, eyes glued to you. Which was why he didn’t notice when Sersi had joined him, standing right beside him.

He gasped, mug rattled, but not to the point that he spilled any on his sweater. He cursed and looked over at her. “What?”

“You look rather festive, Druig. I thought you didn’t care for holidays.”

“I thought so too…” He muttered into his mug, taking a long sip.

“Right. Well, I think I saw some mistletoe in that box of decorations. I can put it up if you’d like?” She asked, that glimmer in her eyes that she got when she wanted to meddle.

Druig thought on it, as he heard your footsteps coming back down the stairs. He met her eyes and that was all that was needed. She nodded and set across the room, plucking it out of the box, along with a length of fishing line.

“I found it! The Muppets and John Denver!” You said excitedly, presenting another crate of records, this one all Christmas. “And some other stuff.”

“May I?” Phastos asked.

“Yeah, of course.” You handed them over and walked back over to the tub of ornaments, searching for a very special one. It was a large mug of cocoa with eleven marshmallows in it, each one etched with the name of an Eternal. You smiled softly and tucked it into the branches of your artificial tree, curling the fake pine to support its weight.

“Where did you find one with so many slots?” Druig found himself asking as he crossed the room to stand behind you.

“Had it custom made.” You replied, turning to face him.

“It’s beautiful, (Y/N).” Ajak complimented warmly from her seat by the fire.

“Thanks. Thought we needed something like that.”

“What are these?” Sprite asked, digging through the other box and pulling out a stocking with Thena’s name embroidered on it.

“Stockings.”

“You had those made, too?” Ajak asked, getting up to see for herself.

“Well, I did them. The embroidery, at least.” You admitted with a shrug, motioning to the hooks under the mantle. “We can put them up, if you want.”

Makkari nodded and grabbed the stockings, putting them all in one clean row in a blur of red and green. She stood next to Druig, elbowing him and tilting her head towards his stocking, which she’d put on the end.

Right next to yours.

He nearly choked on his cocoa. So did everyone know, then? Sersi, Makkari, who else? Kingo, no doubt.

“You alright there, Druig? Looking flushed.” Ikaris jabbed, that wicked gleam in his eyes.

Alright, then, yeah, it was everyone. Everyone but you, it seemed.

It was as if a stormcloud manifested above his head. He shook his head and stalked off towards the kitchen. He didn’t know much, but he did know a cookie would make him feel better. Snacks always seemed to. And there was no shortage of them, especially now, when you and Gilgamesh had baked nearly twelve dozen batches of them. Gingerbread, snickerdoodle, sugar cookies shaped like trees, chocolate chip, oatmeal no-bakes.

He reached for a sprinkle-covered tree and bit off the tip of it, the frosting sweet. The oven started beeping and you rushed in, arming yourself with an oven mitt before reaching in for what he assumed must be one of the last trays. Oatmeal raisin, it looked like.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, staring as you straightened up and brushed the hair out of your face.

“Oh! Thank you, Druig. I’m all set, though. Are they good?”

“Are what—” He looked down at the half-eaten tree in his hand. “Oh, yeah. They’re great.”

“Awesome.” You grinned. “New frosting recipe.”

“Well it’s perfect, whatever it is.” He leaned against the counter, that boyish smirk on his face. He wasn’t sure what came over him, then, but he had to get it out. “It’s great, by the way. That new book of yours.”

“You read it?”

“I read all of your books.” He confessed. “I think this one’s your best.”

Your heart raced as you met his eyes. Surely he knew, right? He had to. That you’d been writing about him for centuries. When he’d left all those years ago, hundreds of years ago, he’d taken a piece of your heart with him, a piece you’d only found in fiction, it seemed.

“Thank you. It…it means a lot to hear you say that.”

“Can’t wait for your next one.” He winked, plucking up a second cookie and leaving the kitchen before his tongue got him in any more trouble than it already had.

***

Later in the night, when almost everyone had gone to sleep, you were up, wrapping presents in front of the fireplace, folding the paper neatly, complete with name tags and perfect little bows.

You’d switched records. It was an older one, the Rat Pack.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…Let your heart be light…

The words were smooth, glided right out of the speaker. Snow was still coming down in droves. It was good you had nowhere to go, otherwise you’d be snowed in. Well, if your family didn’t have every superpower known to man, you would be anyway. You were glad they were there.

You were glad they were home.

“Can’t sleep?” Druig’s voice startled you from your reverie and you turned around, grateful his present was already wrapped and under the tree.

“Not until I get these wrapped.” You told him.

“Christ, you really do go all out, don’t you?” He chuckled, crossing the room and sitting on the floor beside you, yet another cookie in his hand.

“I think I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. Keeps me…in synch. The routine of a year, you know?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, nodding, face alight in the warm oranges of the flames. “I didn’t see it that way until…recently.”

“Until right now?”

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckled, watching as you carefully wrapped the last one, taping every edge perfectly and putting a tag on top, printing Sprite’s name with a pen. “What’d you get her?”

“You’ll have to find out tomorrow morning.” You told him, shifting to slide it under the tree with the others. “What did you get her?”

“It’s a surprise.” He grinned as you settled in next to him.

“Is it a surprise to you, too?”

He gasped, offended. “I got presents for everyone!”

“I believe you.”

“Sure you do.” He shook his head, laughing softly. “Say, ehm, (Y/N), I’ve been wondering…”

“Mistletoe!” You gasped, staring straight up at the ceiling where, sure enough, a string of mistletoe hung, glittering in the low light. “Who put that up?”

“Well I’ll be…” He breathed, staring up at it, too, heart racing faster than it had in any battle. “What…do you suppose we do about that?”

“I have a few ideas.” You slowly brought your gaze down, meeting his eyes.

He may have been the telepath, but you could tell the only thing on his mind was you as he leaned in, thick eyelashes fluttering shut as his lips met yours, pink and plush and warm. You kissed back, not leaving a single doubt in his mind that you wanted this, wanted him. Your hand rose to his flushed cheek, holding him close as his arm wound around your waist.

The grandfather clock struck midnight, and he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours, noses flush, eyes on you, glimmering with a million words unspoken. He did have a few, though. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Druig.”

[redara]

Sub-Mission

Pairings: Áila Hávarôr / Bi-Han / Tenshikiri Jun Ratings: Explicit Words: 6.418 Tags: F/M/F, Sub-Bi-Han, Toys Summary: Bi-Han admits, he appreciates strong, influential women. AU - canon divergence. Sets in the current timeline, post-MK1, in the AU where everyone agrees for a truce in order to prepare for potential timeline Invaders.

A/N: also posted on AO3. Áila Hávarôr belongs to @tazahan . Tenshikiri Jun belongs to me. Special thanks, Taza, for the discussion about our girls! :3

The threat of invaders from other timelines is still looming over. It is not a simple matter; all sides are wary of each other, cautious for another ‘Damashi’ to trick them. The growing tension is becoming too palpable that Liu Kang, as the Protector of Earthrealm and the former Keeper of Time, has decided to call for a truce. And such a decision is immediately welcomed, at least for now.

Upon entering the Wu Shi Academy, Bi-Han tries, and fails, to hide his disgust. Why, of all places, must the meeting be held here? He strides to the main hall, not bothering to look at his surroundings; Sektor and Cyrax are following dutifully, dressed in their red and yellow mech-armor, sans the helmets.

As expected, the main hall is already packed with familiar faces. Bi-Han glances daggers at Kuai Liang and Tomas, the former who is still donning yellow, and accompanied by his Shirai wife, Harumi. Surprisingly, it is Tomas who gives a small nod to Bi-Han, either out of habit or respect, Bi-Han doesn’t bother to care. He only wants to find a spot in the background where no one can sneak up and stab him – given the glares he receives, there are plenty with such a wish.

He finds a place by a bookshelf, where there are two unfamiliar women standing. One is a voluptuous woman with short orange hair, dressed in black techwear-style outfit; crop-hoodie with intricate silver pattern, cargo pants, and red and white sneakers; she is crossing her arms under her ample chest. The other woman has jet black hair tied up in a bun, dressed in a dark teal kimono, and she is shorter than the first woman. Neither of them look familiar, or important , so Bi-Hand decides to not give them any mind, and stands in the space in front of them.

“Great, now we have a wall in front of us.”

“Jun –” the Orange-Haired woman immediately adds when Bi-Han turns around, “-- sorry, sorry , she doesn’t mean you –”

“Of course not.” The Teal-Dressed woman feigns a smile. “Please, resume standing there, Áila and I are only wallflowers after all.”

Bi-Han frowns at the sarcasm, “If you are short , you should be aware not to stand in the back.”

“Yes, apologies. Clearly, we should have brought stepladders to this meeting.”

The Orange-Haired woman, Áila, looks apologetic for the Teal-Dressed woman, Jun, who looks annoyingly smug. Bi-Han could reply, in fact, he wants to, but he’d rather not add two more people to the list of ‘people who want to kill him’, so he opts to ignore them – which has proven difficult, now that they’re muttering behind his back.

Liu Kang finally begins the meeting, fashionably late, as usual. The Fire God still looks the same since the last time Bi-Han saw him, though now he looks rather tired, if a God can be tired… “Thank you for sparing your time for this important meeting. I hope this won’t be the only time we are standing together, as there is strength in number, and solidarity. I understand some of you have different goals, clashing goals, and I appreciate it that you are setting aside your differences to fight a common enemy – The Invaders.”

Does he ever stop talking? Bi-Han sighs quietly as Liu Kang goes on a lecture about the current situation; how another Titan has been spotted invading other timelines, and it’s only a matter of time before they come to this one; how the Shirai Ryu (Bi-Han grunts at the name) have agreed to set aside their rivalry with the Lin Kuei; and how Quan Chi and Shang Tsung have agreed to ‘play nice’ for once as to not have Empress Mileena and her court hunt them down. All the boring details that could have been summarized in a written note, instead of calling for a meeting.

But then Liu Kang concludes, “Before I forget, we have two additional guests here. They may not have been involved in our latest kombat, but they are of powerful clans seeking to maintain the peace and alliance. Uh –” he looks around the room, so uncharacteristically confused as he scans the faces of everyone. Somehow Bi-Han has the feelings that the two thorns behind him are the ones Liu Kang is searching for –

Aaand he is right, when Jun speaks up aloud, “We’re here, Lord Liu Kang.”

Now all eyes turn towards Bi-Han, seemingly judging him for blocking the two guests, and he steps aside before anyone could ask him to. Liu Kang smiles, “Ah, there you are. Everyone, let me introduce you to Áila Hávarôr, future chieftain of the Sól Eldur clan. Her clan has been a dear friend, and their inventions have helped keep Earthrealm safe for centuries.”

Áila gives a respectful salute to Liu Kang and the room, “Pleased to meet you.”

Liu Kang continues, “And Tenshikiri Jun, the current Head of the Tenshikiri family. Once a clan serving the Empire as Spymaster, they are now oath-bound as secret keepers of Earthrealm.”

Jun bows deeply, before standing straight and replies, “It’s an honor to be here.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Áila, Lady Jun. As per our agreement, the two of you shall join forces with the Lin Kuei, in hope the three of you can come up with a battle plan if the Invader does invade our timeline.” Liu Kang gestures at Bi-Han, “Please, look no further than to your right, and you’ll find Bi-Han, the esteemed Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.”

Áila casts a bright, carefree smile, “Ah, yes, we’ve been, uhm, acquainted.”

“With his back.” Jun mutters under her breath.

“If you’d like to step closer to the table, I’m sure we still have more space by the Champions.” Liu Kang gestures to the four Earthrealm Champions who are standing side by side.

Bi-Han watches as Áila and Jun accept the offer; they walk with their heads held high, and a formal smile on their faces. But he doesn’t miss the small glance they throw at him as they walk past him, one of curiosity and interest, both pairs of eyes locking with his dark brown ones. And in that single moment, Bi-Han can’t figure out why he is annoyed in the first place.

***

In the next few days and weeks, however, Bi-Han finds himself growing more annoyed than usual. At least now he’s back in the Lin Kuei compound, a familiar place devoid of judgmental people, and back on his routine as the Grandmaster. He’s sitting behind his desk in his office, reading the reports gathered by his Lin Kuei regarding the two unfamiliar clans he didn’t know existed prior to the meeting in Wu Shi Academy. Both the Sól Eldur and the Tenshikiri clans show promises and great rapports, in fact, they have been so secretive in assisting Earthrealm that the Lin Kuei have not needed to cross paths with them before.

Perhaps it should have stayed that way , for now he keeps seeing the names of Áila and Jun in every document, and his heart sinks a bit deeper each time. There is something about those two. Perhaps it’s the fact that Áila and her clan are blessed by the power of the sun and can torch the Earth if given the opportunity, yet they choose to remain pacifists for all these years. Perhaps it’s the fact that Jun and her family know every little secret in the world, but still keep them despite being capable of using them for their own gain.

Two beautiful women of powerful clans, commanding forces under their leadership – so why does it bother Bi-Han so much?

Perhaps it’s the fact that Áila’s voluminous chest would jiggle enticingly with every little move she makes – even the action of going downstairs becomes such a lewd display, that Bi-Han has tried so hard to focus on her face entirely. Perhaps it’s how Jun’s curvy hips would sway when she walks – Bi-Han doesn’t know if he enjoys the sight of her approaching or leaving. Perhaps it’s the way both of them would look at him, a mixture of coy and playful, like waves on the sand, enticing him to come closer into the sea to drown him.

And he hates to admit it, but by the Gods, some days he wants to step into the figurative sea and drown.

The door to his office is knocked. Bi-Han shakes his head to clear out the thoughts of Áila and Jun completely; he clears his throat, and gruffly responds, “Come in.”

Just his luck, the two burdens of his mind enter his office; they carry themselves in their own personal grace, like the sun and the moon, and Bi-Han suddenly feels like the dark space they accompany.

“Good evening.” He greets Áila and Jun, watching as they begin to occupy the space of his office. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Bi-Han is not sure who he has to watch; Jun is observing the line of decorative weapons on the wall, hips swaying with each step that she takes; Áila stands in front of his desk with her hands in the pockets of her cargo pants, shifting from one foot to another, and with each movement, her chest heaves. His attention finally settles on Áila as she speaks, “We’d like to say thank you for allowing us to stay with the Lin Kuei for this unforeseeable future. We understand it must be difficult to let strangers into your home, and we thank you for your trust, and – uhm…” she looks away, still shifting on her feet.

“And we trust you in return.” Jun adds without looking away from the decorative weapons.

“Right. I had that on the top of my head.” Áila looks at Bi-Han again, though now he notices a slight pink hue on her cheeks. “Uh… We just want to say that we trust you, and we feel that you do too, I mean, we are allies and – Jun, I can’t do this. You’re the one who’s good with words.”

Jun turns to her, “Why, you were doing great before that.”

“Oh, come on…”

The exchange raises both alarm and confusion in Bi-Han that he’s not certain on how to respond except, “What are you two blabbering about?”

Áila cocks her head towards Jun, “We have a point, I promise, but she will explain it.”

Bi-Han raises an eyebrow at the said woman, “Well? You’re talking about hospitality and trust, I don’t think I’d extend either if you two are acting weird in front of me.”

With a sigh, Jun begins to make her way to his desk; even paced, calculated movement, almost like a dance. “We intended to make this as refined as possible, but crass will have to do, given your attitude. We’re saying that we’re not blind, Bi-Han.”

“Who said you are?”

“We noticed your stare. I am a Tenshikiri, I’m trained to read the subtlest body language, and yours is loud.” Jun stops next to Áila. With both women looking at him intently, Bi-Han finds his heart beats a bit faster. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice your heated gaze on my hips? Or your ogling of Áila’s massive tits?” Áila nudges Jun’s side, but she continues. “We’re all adults here, so let us talk like adults, shall we? If my observation is incorrect, tell me so, and we will offer you our apology, take our leave from your office, and we shall continue our days like this has never happened. So, would you like to admit it, or deny it, Grandmaster?”

The shame growing in the pit of Bi-Han’s chest makes him feel like a hormonal teenager again, and he tries to suppress it, even though his face feels a bit warmer than usual. Gripping the armrests of his chair, his fingertips layered by ice in hope to quell his emotions. He glances between the two women, heat begins to consume him inside out, just like the urge to be honest or to lie to save face.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Bi-Han heaves a heavy sigh, body slumping against his chair. “How astute. Forgive me for having a keen sense of observation. You should feel safe within these walls. But,” he adds sharply, “I merely admired what your hard work has bestowed upon your physique. I’d be foolish if I did not notice them entirely.”

Jun glances at Áila. There is a smirk shared between them, and Bi-Han swears he sees a mischievous glint in their eyes, one that he doesn’t expect to see from them. Jun starts, “I told you. My skill is impeccable.”

Áila’s pink cheeks grow redder, “So you said. Now what?”

“Now it’s our turn to be honest. You do it.”

“Fine…” Áila groans, before schooling her expression into a decent one, albeit still holds mischief behind her smile. “We – ahem – we’ve also been ‘observing’ your hard work. We think it’s impressive, worthy of many praises – you are possibly the most beautiful man we’ve ever seen. Don’t laugh!” She chides as Jun snickers into her palm.

The cogs in Bi-Han’s mind fall into places, and oh… they’ve been ogling me as well? Them? Both of them? There is a cracking sound coming from his armrests, where his ice has taken form and completely ruined the fine wood, but he doesn’t care for that for now. These two women who have occupied his thoughts just confessed that they have been looking at him as well, and – and now what?

“Ah… Thank you.” is what Bi-Han can manage, for deep inside, his desire grows and he doesn’t wish it to be known, not when Áila is blushing so adorably, and he wonders if she’ll blush the same shade of her hair – does the hair below matches the hair above? – and certainly not when Jun is undressing him with her eyes, and he wonders what kind of expression she will give when she breaks underneath him – 

Bi-Han huffs an icy breath. The display earns the attention of the two women. He is the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. He is the infamous Sub-Zero who is widely known and respected. He can handle the toughest enemies and the hardest of battle, certainly he can handle two lustful creatures.

“Since the cats are out of the bag,” He begins, heart pounding harder and steadily, watching Áila and Jun’s response, “and since we are adults who are capable of being responsible for our own… desire, let me ask what do you have in mind?”

“Perhaps we should foster our alliances deeper .” Áila glances between Jun and him.

“Nothing better than showing the naked truth to foster trust.” Jun purrs. “And you? What does the Grandmaster want?”

Bi-Han can’t help the pull on the corner of his lips, or the growing need in the restraint of his pants, or how he thinks how adorable that these two women are acting like they are in control of the outcome. But he welcomes their heated gaze nonetheless, as he gives his reply, “Do whatever you wish to me.”

***

The cold bedroom gradually grows hotter with each layer of clothing that’s being shed. Bi-Han admires how both Áila and Jun are not holding back from their desire, and neither is he; he interrupts Áila from undoing her bra by pulling her for a kiss – she moans, partially in protest of his colder lips, but she complies and melts into his touch, arching into his palm that’s kneading at one of her breasts. They feel heavy and full and soft, and Gods , Bi-Han wants to bury his face in between them.

A small chuckle is heard behind him, and he parts from Áila to find Jun, already in her naked glory, approaching the bed with a small box in hand. Bi-Han grows curious, “What is that?”

“This?” Jun shakes the box lightly. Whatever’s inside sounds heavy. “It’s something pleasurable, I promise.”

He is not convinced. He approaches her, silently demanding to see the content.

She clicks her tongue, “Mm… Such impatience.” She opens the box, and just as she has said, the variety of toys stored within make Bi-Han’s dick twitch in reaction. Jun takes out a large vibrator, “Would this be too much to handle? We can start with the – UNF.”

Her challenging tone dies down when Bi-Han silences her with a kiss. Her shaky breath is a reaction to his cold tongue, and she mewls when he palms her breasts – they are significantly smaller than Áila’s, but he enjoys her hardening nipples, how she jumps as he pinches them to attention.

A warm hand holds his lower back. Áila hums, “I believe you said we are to do whatever we want with you?”

Bi-Han swallows thickly, did I? Oh, right, I did. “Fine.” He grumbles internally, climbing into the bed to settle in the center. His erection is straining against his boxer brief, too tight, twitching in excitement as Áila and Jun are standing at the foot of the bed, observing him. The warm light of the room accentuating the beauty of their naked bodies, the curves and dips, the colors and marks, the perfect imperfections.

When he finally removes his boxer brief, his erection springs free and heavily, and he swears he hears both women gasp. Their reaction pumps his pride – he is not stupid, years of training have sculpted his body into a perfect weapon, but also given him an impressive physique – so he lies there with a smirk, hand holding the base of his thick length, and he watches Áila and Jun’s eyes widening.

“Truly an asset –”

“-- befitting a Grandmaster.”

They finish each other's sentences.

Without wasting any time, the bed dips when Áila and Jun begin to climb up to lie beside him. Áila is to his right, and Jun is to his left, and both are on their sides with their breasts pressing against him. Bi-Han curls his arms around them, cupping their breasts, earning their shared moanings.

Jun holds his chin, pulling him for a kiss; tongues and teeth clashing; he holds her breast a bit firmer, milking a moan. He feels Áila kissing his chest, and her hand is roaming up and down his sculpted abs, nails lightly scratching his sensitive skin, making him buck slightly. He wishes her touch would glide lower to his aching cock that’s waiting for attention, but she is taking her sweet time kissing and nibbling and marking him.

The kiss ends when Jun decides it does; she turns his chin towards Áila, where Bi-Han finds her looking at him with such a bright smile, and so sweetly she holds his cheek. Her kiss is slow and steady; their tongues moving in tandem against each other. It’s intoxicating, that Bi-Han fails to notice what Jun is doing until he feels her finger on the tip of his cock.

“Mmh…” He hums into Áila’s mouth as Jun teases his cockhead. The light touch is experimental, but by the Gods, does it feel damning. He grunts when his slit is teased, rubbed rather vigorously, gathering the little precum that’s leaking.

Jun’s hand leaves him, but Áila’s replaced it, holding the base of his cock with just enough pressure for him to feel her warmth. She begins to pump him, up and down, slowly, gently, earning an involuntary buck of his hips.

Bi-Han parts from the kiss to breathe. Eyes closing, he’s savoring the feeling, throat humming in reaction. “Mm… That’s it…”

“Does it feel good?” Áila hushedly asks, head pressing against his chest.

Bi-Han can only hum, but he shows his appreciation by squeezing the breasts of both women; the soft squishy of Áila’s and the perkiness of Jun’s. He is enjoying the movement, the warmth, every little thing that makes his cock twitch happily and he’s growing harder and harder and –

A soft hum joins the shared breathing in the room, and the next thing he feels is a steady vibration pressed against the underside of his cockhead. He opens his eyes and looks down, seeing Áila holding the base of his cock steadily, while Jun is pressing a vibrator to his cockhead; the tip is buzzing, blurring. Bi-Han rasps, “What are – ngh –”

“We are making ice cream.” Áila replies in a sing-song tune, still smiling brightly.

Jun moves the vibrator up and down his cockhead; Bi-Han bites back a yelp when she presses it over his slit, “This is the slowest setting. Let’s see how long it takes for you to come.”

Bi-Han grits his teeth, “Insolent maidens… Is that – mmh – a challenge?”

“You can back down whenever you want, you know.”

The vibrator is pulled away, and though Bi-Han sighs in relief, his cock twitches involuntarily, missing the sensation. Áila giggles, “Seems your dick wants more.” She moves her hand up to the tip – he bucks and grunts – and she gathers the precum, smearing it down his length. She repeats the action two more times before settling back to holding the base. “You have to use your words, Bi-Han.”

Jun moves the vibrator closer, and Bi-Han watches, partially in want and partially in dread, as the silicone tip is inching closer to his twitching cockhead. She hums appreciatively, “Ooh are you shy? You’re blushing so adorably.”

“Quiet.” Bi-Han growls. “You want to do whatever to me, do it, quit wasting time – NNGH –” a whine escapes his throat when the vibrator is pressed to its previous position again. The sudden sensation makes his core muscle clench, making him more aware of the feeling, how it tickles in a good way.

To make it worse, Áila is now moving her hand, shallow pump, steady and firm, and Bi-Han could only throw his head back. His legs are shaking, and the two devious women have taken the liberty to wrap their warm legs around each of his thigh; he can feel their heat and wetness, clearly they are also aroused by the activity. He tries to buck, but they keep their hold steady.

Then, the vibrator is pulled away again.

Bi-Han grunts in annoyance, but the women are laughing, and he is in no position to demand when his cock is oozing precum and twitching on its own, when his balls feel so tight and full, ready to burst whenever. “Get on with it.”

“You want to come?” Jun asks, and he can hear her smirk.

“Of course.” He opens his eyes, finding her observing his face. But his eyelids are fluttering to a close when Áila kisses his strained neck, and soon he is lost in the sensation of being teased, hot and cold, fast and slow.

The vibrator returns with a raised power. Bi-Han can’t help the bucking of his hips, the twitching of his cock – he is close, so close, it feels so good, so good, so good – mmhhh!

The sound that he makes is something he doesn’t know he’s capable of; a pathetic mewling, a moaning. Bi-Han pants aloud when the vibrator leaves him again, so close to the bliss, but so far away. He grips the breasts tightly, warningly, but it only earns Áila and Jun’s shared giggle. Though the sound annoys him, it also melts him, knowing they are having fun at the expense of his demise.

“Once more for good measure?” Áila asks tentatively.

“No. No.” Bi-Han shakes his head, eyes closed tightly. “You’ve been denying me release. It’s unfair.”

“Unfair is going back on your words – you said ‘whatever we want’.” Jun turns the vibrator off. The lack of humming sound in the room alarms Bi-Han. “What do you say, Áila? Do you think we should continue or not?”

Áila chuckles, “You’re cruel.”

“ Fine .” Bi-Han repeats with a loud huff. “Fine… Do it.”

Just as the words leave his lips, the vibrator is returns to its position, yet it’s not on. He waits, anticipating, but he’s not expecting two pairs of lips pressing a kiss to his cheeks. His eyes flutter open, just in time to see both Áila and Jun hovering over him with smiles gracing their beautiful faces.

“Such a handsome man…” Áila praises.

“A good Grandmaster…” Jun adds. “Here is your reward.”

The vibrator turns on at the highest setting; Bi-Han growls deeply and throws his head back, eyes clenched shut, as he feels all of his nerves are alight. Áila and Jun hum as they’re settling their heads on his chest. The muttered praises are muffled by his own grunting, his complaints and singing of arousal. Áila moves her hand again, at the same time Jun rubs the vibrator all over his cockhead, and the combined action defeats him completely.

“C-close –” Bi-Han rasps for no reason.

His orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, pulling him under the bliss, that all he can feel is the twitching of his cock as Áila and Jun are milking him; thick sperms shooting out of him, painting his abdomen with the hot, sticky substance. Bi-Han gasps when they still continue their actions, still holding his cock firmly, still pressing the vibrator against his very sensitive head. His twitching cockhead leaking out the remains of his seeds.

Bi-Han pries his eyes open, looking at the blushing Áila and Jun, how wide their smiles are, and how it makes his heart soar knowing he’s the cause of their joy. While at the same time, he wants to protest their grip at his sensitive cock, the still vibrating vibrator trying to coax another ticklish orgasm out of him. “... nough – enough … I’ve come…”

But he’s not prepared to receive the answer, as the two beautiful maidens look at him, eyes glinting with mirth, and collectively reply, “We know.”

***

The heat of the room becomes a bit unbearable, as sweat begins to layer Bi-Han’s skin. He’s drunk on bliss, after having been milked twice by the vibrator; the offending tool has been set aside, thankfully. But now he lies, panting, thirsty for more, while at the same time he’s had enough. However, it’s difficult to know which desire he wants at the moment, especially when his head is lying on Áila’s plush thighs, and her breasts are just a kiss away from him.

Áila is caressing his hair; his bun has become loose in the midst of everything. The action is soothing, calming, also encouraging. Bi-Han looks up at her, past her impressive chest. His tongue darts out to taste her nipple, and like a baby, he latches there, suckling, earning her soft moaning.

Once again for the night, he fails to notice what Jun is doing. Only at the last second that he feels her straddling his hips; his hands automatically hold onto her thighs, fingers splaying trying to grab ahold of her. She chuckles, breathy and lustful, and he feels her taking his hardening length in her hand.

“Áila, I think your tits are magic. Look,” Jun gives him one long stroke, “he’s hard again.”

Áila laughs, “Indeed, breastfeeding has so many benefits.”

Bi-Han bucks his hips when he feels Jun rubbing her wetness all over his length. He can feel her warm cunt, and his cock is eager for a taste. His hands find her hips and pull her close, earning her chuckle, “How insatiable, Grandmaster. Relax. You don’t need to beg for this. I need you…” She presses his tip to her cunt, and though it’s not yet entering, the spreading heat is enough for Bi-Han to want to drive into her.

Then Jun sinks down his length.

Their shared moaning is loud; hers a broken one, his is startled one. Her walls are warm and tight, and he can feel his tip pressing against her cervical opening. Jun rocks her hips gently, and her moan erupts again. “A – ah … fuck … you’re so thick…”

Initially, Bi-Han believes she won’t be able to handle him. He believes she would give up, and he would have to plow into her at his own pace, and finally break her under his command. But the more she moves her hips, the steadier her pace has become, and within seconds, it is Bi-Han who finds himself at the edge of breaking again. He should have known the sway of her hips is lethal. Paired with the clenching of her walls, he can feel all of her with such shallow, hard thrusts.

Jun looks powerful like this; rocking and bouncing on his cock, humble-sized breasts jiggling in response, and the strands of her hair dancing back and forth with it. The flushed face and the parted lips, sharp eyes looking at him from hooded lids – somehow he wants nothing but to please her, wants her to be pleased by him.

With Áila’s breasts pressing against his face, earning a few lazy kisses and licks as he breathes and moans, Bi-Han could die peacefully. He doesn’t know what to feel when bliss is rushing all over his nerves. His cock is twitching, getting harder and more sensitive, especially when Jun suddenly clenches down tightly; her walls are spasming, and she throws her head back; her lips forming a perfect O, with her eyes closing tightly – she comes hard. It doesn’t take long for her to greedily continue moving, either to prolong her orgasm or to earn herself another one. For a moment, Bi-Han feels wild, feeling like a toy being used for her pleasure, and he loves it .

Áila looks at him from between her breasts, “Hmm? You’re loving this aren’t you?”

“What?” Jun breathes out between moaning.

“Yes, I think he’s loving this, Jun.”

“I do not – ah –” Bi-Han protests hastily.

Jun laughs, “I can tell you’re lying even when your face is buried in tits.”

Bi-Han tenses when he feels Áila’s hand on his chest. Her fingers are circling around his nipple, teasing, coaxing it to become erect. He huffs, “Wanton creatures… How – nngh – how can I not react… when you keep teasing me…?”

“You could freeze us, but so far you haven’t –  OH!” Jun’s words are cut off when Bi-Han layers his hands in ice, and he grips on her hips tighter. He wants to hear her protest, wants to hear her beg him to release her, but instead, she is mewling, long and wanting. “Ohhh… You play dirty, Grandmaster… Didn’t you know pain and pleasure go hand in hand?”

Bi-Han knows he is lost when Jun rocks her hips faster. He knows he is lost when Áila mutters hushed words of encouragement, and he beams up for each stroke of her hand against his hair. He knows he is lost when he feels Jun’s walls enveloping his length tightly, and she twitches and moans aloud when she comes again, this time accompanied by his. Hot white liquid spurting out in liberation, painting her insides completely. He knows he is lost when Jun removes herself from him, and he whines – the Grandmaster whines – at the loss of warmth around his sensitive cock.

Oh, but for once, losing feels so good.

***

“Does this hurt?” Jun pulls the chain slightly.

Bi-Han huffs, looking down at the chain, following it to the nipple clamps that are now attached to his erect nipples. They look so red. When he doesn’t reply, Jun tugs the chain again.

“I said, does this hurt?” She repeats.

“No.” Bi-Han grunts.

“They look like they hurt.” Áila comments from where she is lying down on the bed, propped up by comfortable pillows. Her legs are parted, baring her pink cunt to the air; Bi-Han’s gaze falls to it, can’t deny that he is eager for her even after so many times coming.

“It’s not.” Bi-Han assures her. To be honest, he has never thought his nipples would be in this situation, but here they are, and he’s feeling way too good about it. He takes his position between Áila’s legs; his hard length resting on top of her mound. He can feel her hot cunt against his balls.

Áila looks divine in this position. Sprawled out on his bed, hands clutching tightly on the sheets, and her bright-colored hair a stark contrast to the fabric. She looks adorable, with the blushing cheeks, and still bright smile that’s just begging to be turned into orgasmic bliss. He wants to ruin her, wants to be ruined by her.

Bi-Han rubs his length along her opening, tip teasing her leaking cunt. She feels warmer, hotter than Jun’s, and when he finally enters her – Gods! – Bi-Han believes he would have melted instantly. Yet he persists, pressing forward until his hips are flushed against hers. He hoists her left leg to his shoulder, wanting to drive in deeper, she moves her right thigh further, wanting him to drive in deeper.

Then he begins to move.

With each thrust, his nipple clamps move, and it sends jolts of bliss to his sensitive tips. It makes his cock twitch involuntarily. It tickles, but feels arousing. It aches, but feels blissful. He is lost in the sensation shortly, when he can hear Áila’s loud moaning, when he can hear the slapping of flesh and the wet squelching noise of her cunt, when he feels her walls threatening to melt his cock off from how tight they are squeezing him.

Suddenly, the chain is tugged, and Bi-Han’s eyes shoot open in shock; he groans in protest when his pace falters. He feels Jun leaning behind him, pressing her naked front to his back. Her right hand is tugging at the chain, while her left is on his head, giving a gentle pat. “Hush… You are doing so well…”

I was, until you interrupted me , is what Bi-Han wants to say. But he grits his teeth and remains quiet, and focuses on fucking Áila as best as he can without faltering again. He can feel her getting close; cunt twitching, her moaning escalating into a crescendo, and – 

And she comes, at the same time as the chain is tugged three times, and Bi-Han finds himself moaning aloud to accompany Áila’s wanton cries. He grips her thighs firmly, trying to ground himself, not wanting to come just yet. But it’s difficult when Jun is teasing the living hell out of him, giggling and peppering kisses to his sweating temple.

“One more, for the sake of being fair. I came twice, she must come twice as well.” Jun whispers, still holding onto the chain.

Bi-Han can’t think straight. His mind is too fucked up to even make a coherent sentence, that he simply nods in reply, and sounding off a breathy, “Yes.” His hips begin to move again, picking up the pace again, that by now it feels like an automatic action, a carnal desire. He wants to come, again and again, wants to paint their insides with his seeds, wants to have them howling his name and crying aloud from how good he’s making them feel.

But his reply must have been not good enough. The chain is tugged again, but this time is by Áila; he bows down, following the pull of the chain. His eyes lock with hers, seeing the lust she shares. Her question is laced with the same lust as well, “Are you – ahn – are you going to please me – mmh?”

Bi-Han nods frantically.

Jun coos at his back, kisses littering on the hard plane of his torso, on his shoulders, on his nape. Dainty fingers coiling with his hair, rubbing at his scalp, gently kneading. Bi-Han drives in faster and harder into Áila’s sopping cunt, again and again and again –

He feels her walls clenching around him again, and he can’t stop the blissful moaning that erupts from his throat; his cock twitching in delight, and his seeds are leaving him without having to be asked. It is too much, too damn much, that he gets lightheaded.

He feels himself being pulled backwards until he’s out of Áila’s divine walls, and he’s lying on his back, sweating. He registers the bed shifting as the two goddesses are moving about. Jun removes the nipple clamps one by one; with each one, she rubs a cooling ointment on his sore nipples carefully. He swears he hears her muttering what a good job he has done, and how good he looks. Then, shortly, he feels a wet, warm towel being dragged along his lower abdomen, as if giving him a bath. It cleans up his length from his sticky sperm. Áila’s face comes into view, and she plants a kiss to the tip of his nose, a smile so bright he could claim her as his sun.

When his breathing has become calmer, he feels the bed dips again. Automatically, he opens his arms, welcoming both Áila and Jun to lie on his chest, cuddled up in a shared body warmth. With a slow movement, he plants a kiss on their damp foreheads, each one earning their pleased humming. And only then do they close their eyes, and drift asleep, high on cloud nine of bliss.

***

“You… wish to be placed with the Lin Kuei for an indefinite amount of time?” Liu Kang asks, confusion etched on his face. “I mean no offense, I’m merely confused as to why. When I suggested it at first, you two didn’t seem to want it, said Arctika is too cold and harsh.”

“Well, it was then, but after a while it grows on us.” Áila replies with a shrug. “I’ve informed my clan. As long as I’m doing my part to keep Earthrealm safe, they are fine with my decision.”

“Likewise,” Jun comments. “The Tenshikiri can operate individually; I have my General at the ready should anything urgent comes up. You have nothing to worry about, Lord Liu Kang.”

The Fire God, despite still in confusion, finally relents. “Very well. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to inform me.”

Jun smiles, “Rest assured. The Grandmaster is treating us well.”

“Indeed, he is.” Áila adds. “Please excuse us. We must return to Arctika at once; there are plenty to plan for the sake of Earthrealm.”

Bi-Han hums, leaning by the door to Liu Kang’s meeting room, listening to the conversation that’s taking place within. He counts the footsteps of Áila and Jun, and anticipates their arrival to his location. They notice him, as he does them, and though it is subtle, the little look they exchange speaks louder than words.

“Now that is done.” Áila begins.

Jun finishes, “Shall we return to Arctika, Grandmaster?”

With his smile hidden behind his mask, Bi-Han hushedly replies, “As my ladies wish.”

[followmetoyourdoom]

Quotes from the drama department

"Do you have vampire juice?" "Mhm, on the shelf."

"I borrowed these mics from X. He doesn't know where they came from." ".....these are my mics!"

"Are those your students lying down in the halls?" "Probably." "Why?" "Drama."

"Please stop trying to set your actors on fire. Wait until I've isolated the fire alarm."

"We can't have smoking monkeys this time."

"Aha! Mental breakdown! That was on my drama festival bingo sheet! Yessss."

"I brought the skull on a stick over, say hi to Wendy."

"Do you have anything that makes a sound when thrown?" "You mean apart from students?"

"As the terrorist, do not let yourself get talked down. You're my cue for the explosion."

"You look like someone who knows how big A2 is."

"We're playing hide and seek." "Ah." "Is there someone hiding in your office?" "Maybe. Who knows."

"I'll move my coffee off the speaker. I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly."

"Oh god I forgot I took a student to a&e last week. Huh. Wild."

"Do you have X item we can borrow?" "Probably." "Do you just have everything?" "Probably."

*ten minute d&d talk* "...oh wait this is an interview, sorry!"

"Make it as difficult for them as possible." "Okay!" *After the event* "I stole all their medical supplies and hid them backstage." "Good job!"

"We'd love to get a disco ball for the office." *Has two within as many minutes*

"They sent me to Christian therapy." "...I see." "I'm Jewish!" "I know."

"Why can I smell burning flesh?" "Don't worry about it."

"And of course you all know Jen." *Looks across the students and nods slowly* *giggling from students* "You can say something." *Shrugs and makes a 'sure, I can, but I won't' gesture* *more giggling*

"I'm launching a surprise attack on music."

"Heads up!" *Throws a bean bag into a drama class* "Thank you!"

"I'm going to collapse on your stepladders, they seem stable."

"Can I borrow a sword for a scene I'm filming outdoors." "When you have permission from the police to carry an imitation weapon in public, sure."

"You should have a word with your students... We ah... We found a used needle in a dressing room." "Yeah we were using that to fill bubble wrap with fake blood."

"I need to make a noose." "I can make one for you, how big?"

*hissing noises from down the hall* *student salutes as they arrive at my door* "Yeah, what do you want?" "Gun, Hiss Master." "Yeah sure."

"Now then, this shouldn't fire." *BANG* "I stand corrected."

"Don't climb the seating, only I can do that."

*Piano noise coming from a lift* "Okay, what happened?" "He got stuck with the upright."

"I've just had to dish out staging to lecturers like candy to children."

"You're the fun one we know not to piss off."

"Do we have to warn for strobe lighting?" "Yes, but what you're doing isn't strobe."

"Jen...." "Yes?" "Jeeeeeeen." "Mhm?" "Hiss Master..." "......What did you break?" "It wasn't me!"

[threadsofhorror]

Attic Noises (working title, #1)

Putting some wild thoughts I'd had when moving into my current house into a story. Attics are weird places.

The bones of a house take time to settle. Mark learned this the hard way. The first couple of days after moving in, he’d lie awake at night, listening to the groaning and creaking of his new house. In the light of day, these noises were easily explainable. The protest of metal pipes as hot water flows through for the first time in ages. Wood and plaster shifting as the central heating does its job. Neighbourhood noises muffling and changing as they filter through the brickwork.

He’d been systematic at identifying each noise and reassuring himself, despite how silly it felt, that there were no ghosts or ghouls groaning in cupboards or under beds. He’d even made a paper list, checking off every room as he went. Putting these superstitions into words meant he could cross them off and slept sounder because of it. There was one room he couldn’t check off, though. The attic. He was still hearing creaks and groans coming from above him, never in the same spot twice.

He’d bought the house without checking the attic. The previous owner hadn’t left a stepladder and the estate agent wasn’t much help. The surveyor had described the attic as cluttered, but the cold water tank was fine. Screw it, he’d thought. An attic is an attic. He’d regretted it ever since. An unexplored black mark on an otherwise fine house.

The attic hatch was in his upstairs landing. A white square cut out of the ceiling, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. The ceiling was low enough that he could just reach it if he stood on his toes. On the fourth day, he decided he was going to check this attic off no matter what. He reached up and wrapped his knuckles against it. Wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just wanted to let the monsters know he was coming.

That afternoon, he borrowed a ladder from a mate of his. It was a collapsible one, which would collapse with enough force to guillotine your fingers if you weren’t careful.

“It’s a bit rickety,” he’d said, “so don’t go jumping around on it.”

[lesetoilesfous]

caning, forced to watch for kanders?

Fuuuuuuuuck this one killed me and was also very fun to write, thank you for the prompt!

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Caning, Forced to Watch

Pairing: Kanders

Characters: Karl Thekla, Anders, Knight-Commander Greagoir

Warnings: Corporal Punishment, Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Abuse, Public Humiliation, Systematic Abuse, Graphic Depicition of Injury

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, there's some comfort here but I can never write a happy ending when they're still in the goddamn Circle, the Circles are awful.

Word Count: 3,759

It isn’t personal. Karl knows this isn’t about him. He knows, with a very specific kind of agony, that Greagoir has no idea that any of the apprentices currently gathering to sit on the shabby wooden seats assembled in a semi-circle in their dormitory would take this personally. He, like most of the templars in Kinloch, has long since fallen under the impression that no one in this blighted tower likes the young man tied with rough hemp rope to a wooden step ladder in the middle of the circle of chairs any more than they do. And Karl knows that isn’t true: not only because he loves the thin, bruised, frightened looking teenager trying to pull a brave face so much that he thinks he might risk tranquility just to get him out of here. He also knows it isn’t true because one of the six year olds looks like she’s about to burst into tears: the one Anders would climb into bed with and read stories to until she fell asleep without waking up to screaming nightmares. Karl knows it isn’t true because Angelique looks like she’s seriously considering giving up all the Orlesian courtesies she was governed in before she found her magic and setting Greagoir on fire. Karl knows it isn’t true, because little Surana looks like they’re contemplating blood magic.

But the templars have been good at understanding their wards.

A few of the apprentices, of course, giggle. There are red cheeks and flushed faces as elves and human children try to decide whether they’re supposed to avert their eyes. A wooden stepladder (borrowed from the tranquil’s storage closet, if Karl had to guess) is set up in the middle of about a hundred wooden chairs. One for every apprentice in this dormitory. Anders’ hands are tied to either side of the top of the ladder. The apprentices are giggling because his robes have been lifted and tucked into his belt, exposing his long, skinny legs (with a scattering of small round bruises in sets of five on his thighs that Karl doesn’t want to look at.) All of them are staring at the old grey smalls covering Anders’ arse, or trying to look away from them. So the teenagers are giggling, because they’ve never seen anything like this. The older kids and young adults look as if they’re about to attend a hanging. So do the younger apprentices. The pretty ones.

Anders’ jaw is tense, and he’s staring rigidly at the dull, grey, distant wall. Karl can tell how frightened he is because of how still he is. Anders is the kind of boy who never sits still: who’s always gesticulating when he speaks, or wriggling to sit in ever more improbable ways in his chair. Now, every part of him is motionless, his bound wrists frozen beneath fingers that are half curled over the old, paint-stained wood of the stepladder.

Knight-Commander Greagoir stands up, and the giggling stops like a head cut off by a meat cleaver. In the Knight-Commander’s hands is a long, thin wooden cane. Karl is having a hard time breathing.

He’d chosen not to sit at the front. He can’t decide if it was pragmatism or cowardice. He doesn’t want to watch this. He doesn’t want anyone to watch this. He doesn’t want it to be happening at all. But Karl knows that one of the few things worse than this is the templars finding out exactly how much he and Anders have begun to mean to each other: so much so that sometimes when they’re drawn together they flinch away on instinct, too frightened of what the scope of their feelings means for the remainder of their short lives in captivity. Karl can’t let any of the twenty or so templars in attendance, standing at regular intervals behind the gathered seats, know exactly how personally he’s about to take this. So he takes a seat in the middle of the crowd, and sits with his hands folded in his lap, and forces his gaze away from Anders and the purple bruise squashing his left eye shut.

“Apprentices.” Greagoir doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. It carries anyway, bouncing against the high stone walls and through the wide empty space. Karl hates him. He hates that he’s doing this here, where they sleep. He hates that when he goes to bed, when he dresses, when he needs a piss, he’s going to have to walk over this patch of floor and remember this. He hates that the smaller kids are going to have to walk over the stone that appears again and again in their dreams and nightmares. He hates that this will likely not be the worst thing he sees done, here.

“It has come to my attention that some of you believe there are no consequences for your actions.” Greagoir punctuates his sentence by slapping the cane in his hand lightly against his metal gauntlet. Several of the apprentices flinch. Karl feels his own shiver ripple through his shoulders and tenses so hard it hurts. Anders’ mouth pinches shut, so tightly his lips bleed white. “You think that you live in a land of extremes: that my men and I will either do nothing, or kill you. I would like to disabuse you of this notion.” Greagoir steps forward, towards the innermost ring of chairs around the ladder, and the apprentices who’d been unhappily forced into those seats when they found all the others filled lean back so fast their chairs creak. Greagoir’s expression doesn’t change.

“It is not our job to kill you. It is our job to protect you. From outside forces, yes. From demons, yes. But also from yourselves. You are not safe in the outside world, and the outside world can never be safe from you. We keep you here for your own good. We clothe you, feed you, educate you. We provide you with more luxury than most peasants could imagine in a lifetime.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Karl sees Samael frowning. The boy had been brought in from a family of twe in Amaranthine. He was, by all accounts, a boy from a life of deep poverty. But he rarely agrees with the templars when they weaponise it against him.

Greagoir gets closer to Anders, and Karl’s mind fills with a vivid, sudden vision of climbing onto his chair and running forward, through the crowd of apprentices, tackling the Knight-Commander to the ground and punching him until his face is bloody. But he doesn’t do that.

“In return, we ask only that you behave yourselves.” Greagoir points at Anders, so suddenly and so violently that several of the apprentices flinch again. Anders, for his part, noisily puffs a strand of hair out his face, and Karl nearly wants to cry. Greagoir’s mouth tightens in a thin, sour smile. “Anders thinks that misbehaving makes him interesting. He thinks it makes him brave, or heroic. He thinks that we are terrible villains, and he is a noble mage, and that he can make fools of myself and my men. But this is not the case. Anders, like all of you, is a child.” Greagoir gestures with the cane, and a Dalish girl who still hasn’t told them her name flinches back so fast her chair tips backward.

“He is a naughty, stupid, little boy. Not only is he a naughty, stupid, little boy - he’s a dangerous naughty, stupid, little boy. Like all of you, like all mages. He needs to be protected from himself. So I want all of you to watch this, and I want all of you to know that this is what happens to naughty children. It is not brave. It is not interesting. It is not heroic. It is foolish, and painful, and humiliating. And I will beat as many of you as I need to, to protect you and all of Fereldan from the far greater danger of mages, like Anders, who will do anything to be 'free'.”

Satisfied, Greagoir steps back and raises the cane. Karl is squeezing the wooden sides of his chair so hard he imagines he can feel it splintering. Tears prickle hotly at the backs of his eyes. Greagoir's hand falls in a swift slash of air and lands with a crack on Anders’ arse. Anders huffs a breath, but doesn’t make a sound. The cane rises again. No one is laughing now. Out of the corners of his eyes, Karl can see the way that every apprentice has become tense and still. His vision distorts like thick glass in a fishbowl. The children around him feel both very close and very far away. He feels as if he’s so close to Greagoir and Anders that he could breathe and touch them.

On the third strike, Anders makes a soft sound of pain, a bitten off grunt that they wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t for the deathly silence that has fallen over every child in the eastern dormitory. On the fifth strike, Anders yelps - a sound so high and loud it’s almost like an animal. Karl forces himself to look at his face, then, and sees that it’s washed a furious, burning red, all the way to the tips of his ears. And Karl hates it and hates the Circle and hates Greagoir, for turning the gentle, intimate pinkness of Anders’ blush into something humiliating and awful. Karl can feel his magic roiling somewhere between his mind and the Fade like a building wave. Around him, he can feel the tension of the other apprentices' magic, too, as they try to control their fear and anger and embarrassment. It prickles over his skin like static electricity, pulling at the back of his neck.

When Greagoir strikes Anders a seventh time, Anders starts to cry. It’s a terrible, soft, huffing sound dragged from between his lips like a pulled tooth. Greagoir pants, his own cheeks beginning to flush red with exertion, and hits Anders three more times in quick succession. Anders writhes against the stepladder, and Karl notices for the first time that his ankles are tied to the base, too, with the same rough thick hemp rope, which has already begun to rub his skin red and raw. Karl drags his eyes up Anders’ bare, bruised legs and swallows hot, sour bile in the back of his throat when he notices the lines of red that are beginning to spot through the fabric of Anders’ smalls.

Greagoir hits Anders a tenth time, and Anders keens, tossing his head, his nose running, snot mixing with a mess of tears on his red cheeks. Anders' legs and arms are shaking, now, and every time Greagoir hits him he cries out, trying to flinch away from the blow. The stepladder shakes, creaking with the force of Anders’ struggling against the ropes. One of the younger children, Matthias, starts to wail. One row behind him, Karl can sees Angelique crying, silently, her face a mask of polite neutrality.

Greagoir gives Anders fifteen strikes, and by the time he’s done blood is running in droplets down his legs like a monthly bleed. Anders hangs his head, hair falling forward mercifully to cover his face, and shakes, sobbing against the ladder. Greagoir holds the cane between his hands, the wood red with Anders’ blood. “Let this be a lesson to you all.”

Then he turns, and leaves. All of the apprentices remain frozen in their chairs, unsure of whether they can move. But one of the templars - Drass, steps forward and unties Anders brusquely from the ladder. Anders slumps, crumpling to the ground and making a soft sound of pain when he lands on his arse. Drass looks up at the assembled crowd, looping the ropes neatly around his gauntlets. “I’ll need a volunteer to take this ladder back to Owain, and another to take him to the clinic.”

Angelique gets to her feet. “I’ll take the ladder. Karl, do you mind taking him to the clinic?”

Karl nearly passes out with relief. As it is, he makes a mental note to ask Anders to kiss Angelique for him, later, and stumbles forward on numb, clumsy feet to where the love of his life is curled up, bleeding on the floor. Because he couldn’t volunteer, couldn’t find the neutrality to say anything without giving himself away. But Angelique had done it for him. Karl crouches, and gently slips his hands under Anders’ arms, lifting him easily (too easily, it’s always too easy to lift him, a boy this tall shouldn’t be this light.) Anders blinks up at him, eyes red and puffy, lip bitten through, swelling and bloody for it, hair clinging haphazardly to his cheeks and chin.

“Thekla?”

Karl wants to hold him. He wants to hold him, and kiss him, and tell him nothing like this is ever going to happen again. But he can feel Drass’ eyes on him, so doesn’t do any of those things. He waits until Anders drags his feet under him, and slings his arm over his shoulders, and tugs his robes loose of his belt to cover his legs with a wave of relief so strong it nearly incapacitates him. Anders shudders as he’s fully clothed again, and Karl wants to stop, and apologise, but instead he gently tugs him towards the door. Anders limps with every step.

*

Wynne doesn’t heal him. She explains, curtly, that she’d been instructed by Greagoir not to erase a painful lesson with magical healing. Karl had explained, loudly, that Anders could hardly learn the lesson if he died of infection or blood loss. At that, Wynne had given him a pot of ointment and gauze and told him to leave. Karl had, face burning with the force of anger. Anders hadn’t said anything throughout, which was making Karl’s hurt do worried somersaults. Slowly, limping, they’d walked back downstairs towards one of the apprentice bathrooms. Hadley was on duty, at least, and gave them both an apologetic, embarrassed smile, averting his gaze to the side of the bathtub as Karl helped Anders undress and get inside. Anders had said nothing throughout, his brown eyes unfocused and his breathing shallow.

He’d only come back into himself when Karl had picked up a rag with one arm under Anders’ almost concave belly to support him, Anders’ ribs sticking sharply into his forearm. Karl had stared at the series of haphazard, angular weals and welts cut into Anders skin in deep, angry purple and red lines. His skin was more bruise than anything else, painted yellow and green, covered in dried lines of blood. Karl had suddenly found that he couldn’t move, kneeling beside the iron bathtub, rag in hand. That was when Anders had come back, hand squeezing his forearm. Karl had looked up, and realised that his chin and the stubble that kept growing there no matter how often he shaved, was damp with tears. Anders hadn’t touched his face - couldn’t, with Hadley watching, no matter how nice he was. His eyes were hollow and dark with anger and a terrible, wounded sort of fear. But his long fingers had dug deeply into Karl’s forearm, squeezing it hard.

“It’s alright.”

Karl nods. He doesn’t say, it’s not alright. He doesn’t say, it’s never going to be alright. Instead, he dips his hand in the bathwater, coaxing heat into it with his magic, and gently begins dabbing at the dried blood. Anders’ breath hitches every time he touches the cuts, and by the time Karl’s finished the water’s pink and Anders is crying almost silently in soft, coughing hiccoughs. Hadley’s mouth is turned down in an unhappy frown, but he stands ramrod straight against the wall in front of the bathtubs, watching them. Gently, Karl helps Anders get out of the bathtub, drying him off and helping him get dressed before walking him back towards his bunk bed.

Jowan is gone - probably off trailing after Surana like a lost puppy. Karl doesn’t really care, he’s just grateful there isn’t someone immediately above them to watch as helps Anders lie on his front. The apprentices in the beds nearby skitter away from them like frightened sparrows as soon as they get close, and Karl can’t find the energy to apologise to them for it. Anders’ bed smells like soap and old rags and ink, and his pillow is stained with decades of other apprentices. He lies down on the thin mattress, and Karl kneels on the stone beside the bed, gesturing to the robes over Anders’ legs.

“I need to put on the ointment.” He says, and wishes he was better with words.

Anders huffs, turning to look at him with one brown eye that’s almost yellow in the shadow of the bunk bed. “You don’t need to ask. It’s not as if everyone hasn’t seen it, anyway.”

Karl freezes, breath hitching in his throat. “Anders -”

Anders buries his head in his arms, and his voice is muffled when he speaks. “Just do it.”

Karl’s stomach flips. But he gently lifts the robe above Anders’ legs and pulls down his smalls, his mind loud with uncomfortable recollections of more precious moments - like the first time he’d undressed him, like this, and the way they’d both blushed, and the sound of Anders’ sighs when...Karl swallows, and his fingers touch the scattering of bruises dug into Anders’ thighs. He doesn’t say anything, though he looks up at the back of Anders’ head and the tangled hair there. Anders doesn’t move, and doesn’t say anything, so Karl grimaces and unscrews the lid of the ointment. The salve inside is thick and white and sticky. It smells bitter and astringent, and when Karl dips his fingers inside it tingles against his skin like peppermint. He pauses, pulling the blanket in a tent over Anders’ arse and legs in an awkward attempt at preserving his dignity.

“This might hurt a bit.”

Anders grunts, fingers crushing the thin pillow beneath his head, face still buried in his arms. “I’ll live.”

Karl nods, and gently begins to dab the ointment against the deeper cuts. Some of them are so deep that the skin around them is peeling back, pulling them wider open. The ointment fills the deep red wounds, shiny against the purple and blackening skin. Occasionally, Anders flinches, and every time he does Karl stops until Anders nods, quietly murmuring, “Ok”, with a hoarse voice. When he’s done, Karl feels like he’s run a marathon, wiping his fingers clean with a rag and pulling Anders’ smalls back up and his robes down over his legs before covering him with the blanket.

The mage lights in the dormitory are darkening, heralding curfew, and a queue of some twenty or so apprentices is waiting outside the western bathrooms. Everyone is paired up. You learned quickly not to bathe on your own, no matter how nice the templar in the bathing area was. Karl knew Anders, at least, had learned that the hard away. The dormitory is full of apprentices yawning and talking quietly - a few sitting up beside candles squinting at their parchment as they try to finish their homework. But the dormitory is also strangely hushed, utterly devoid of the occasional laughter that usually peppered the evenings as everyone came back from classes. No one has forgotten Greagoir’s lesson, yet, and Karl doubts they will for a while.

He knows he only has twenty minutes or so before the apprentices in the beds around Anders’ get back from bathing. He doesn’t care. He adjusts himself on the floor, and leans as close to Anders as he dares - watching the templars that line the distant walls like living statues, or gargoyles. “I want to kill him.”

Anders startles, sitting up with a wince and looking around at the templars himself before staring at Karl with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “You can’t say that!”

Karl meets Anders’ eyes, and lets him see all the anger he’s been trying to keep hidden. “I would. I’d do it in a second. I don’t care if they make me tranquil. Send me to Aeonar, even.” Karl lifts his chin, and tries to ignore the shivering fear in his chest as he says the words. “I’d do it.”

On the bed above him, Anders' pinched, narrow features soften. “I’d never forgive you.”

Karl blinks, and isn’t sure why that makes him want to cry, suddenly. “How d’you think I feel?”

Anders slumps, pursing his lips as his brows draw up, glancing furtively to either side before moving his hand under his blankets to squeeze Karl’s fingers at the edge of the mattress. Karl shifts closer, moving so his body is hiding their joined hands. “M’sorry. Must have been shit, to watch that.”

Karl chokes. “It must have been shit to experience.”

Anders’ fingers tighten reflexively around his, and he’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t imagine, watching them do that to you. I think I’d have set this whole blighted place on fire.”

“I wanted to.” Karl admits, leaning heavily against the thin wooden frame of Anders’ bed. There’s all sorts of graffiti on it - mostly templars and mages in ever more crude positions. And initials. Something in Tevene, Nolite te bastardes carbonodorum. Karl swipes his thumb over the back of Anders’ hand, stroking it softly. “I can stay here, tonight, if you want me to.”

Anders’ mouth trembles. “No, you can’t.”

Karl swallows against the thick lump in his throat, watching the queue of apprentices dwindle by the bathing area. One of the templars at the other end of the dormitory has already begun bedtime checks - lifting open apprentice’s clothing crates for perfunctory searches and ushering students still working to bed. “I want to.”

Anders’ expression softens, and his fingers flex in Karl’s hand. “I know.” He glances at the templars - still forty feet away - and leans forward to press a quick, clumsy kiss to Karl’s temple, before letting go of his hand like he’s been burned. “Go to bed, Thekla. I’ll be fine.”

For several seconds, Karl sits there, skin burning where Anders had kissed him, hand numb with the ghost of him. Anders gives him a small, shy smile and Karl returns it despite the way his heart is trying to tear itself into pieces. He gets up, and stretches his cramped legs, and starts walking the long way back to his bed in the middle of the dormitory. He doesn’t say anything.

The words sit heavily on his tongue, anyway, unspoken. No, you won’t.

[afterthegreatunknown]

Glimpses: Chores

Quigley falls down flat on his face as he struggles to run across the dirty wooden floor with his rag. He feels better hearing Duncan and Isadora screaming as they fall too. Quigley hears the Hook-Handed Man’s footsteps walking towards them.

“You said you did chores before.” One of his hooks is carrying a bucket of water. “I thought your parents taught you to clean floors.

“No,” answers Quigley, as he stands up again. “We did normal chores! Like doing the dishes, or folding the laundry!”

“Ah.” The Hook-Handed Man nods his head. “Well, here’s a tip. Don’t wear socks.”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

“Ack!”

Fiona jumps back down. Even with the broomstick, she can’t clear away the cobwebs in the highest corner of the living room. Fiona gives out a hum, before snapping her fingers. She walks down to the basement, where Duncan and Isadora are dusting.

“May I borrow the ladder? I see you’re not using it at the moment.”

“Sure,” answers Isadora, still dusting around.

“And it’s a stepladder,” says Duncan. “It only has two steps to climb on.”

“Ladder, stepladder…” Fiona waves a hand in the air. “They’re part of the same ladder family. There’s not much of a difference.”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

“Has anyone seen the mop?” Duncan climbs up the stairs to the second floor.

“It’s not in the kitchen closest?” asks Hector, busy scrubbing the hallway walls with large, yellow sponge.

“No. It’s not. And I asked everyone else. No one has seen it since this morning!”

Hector clicks his tongue and drops the sponge into the bucket. Duncan leads him downstairs to the kitchen, and points to the closet. Hector opens it up, and hums while rubbing his chin. While the closet has the broom, buckets, and vacuum cleaning, the mop isn’t hanging.

“Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.”

“I know!”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

Isadora kicks above the doorknob one more time. She hears the wood cracking.

“One more kick should do the trick!” Isadora kicks the same spot as before.

The wooden door then opens slightly. Isadora then pushes the door with her body. It soon topples over and falls to the ground with a heavy ‘thud’. She steps inside and flips on the light switch. Inside are many boxes stack on top of each other. In the middle is a navy dress with long sleeves, a hemline that goes to the floor, and black ruffles.

“Oh.” Isadora blinks. “That’s not totally creepy.”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

Widdershins stands at the top of the ladder. He moves the paint brush side to side against the wall, humming out loud one of his favorite songs.

“What are you doing?” asks a young teenage voice.

Widdershins stops painting. He turns around and sees Quigley Quagmire blankly staring at him.

“I’m painting the wall. What else?”

“Painting and humming,” answers Quigley. “It sounds catchy. Can you sing it?”

Widdershins look down at the canvas cover floor. “No. I forgotten most of lyrics.”

“Oh.” Quigley then shrugs his shoulders. “That’s alright. Can you continue humming it?”

“Aye. That, I can do.”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

“Are you doing okay up there?” asks Hector, keeping the ladder stable on the dirt ground.

“Aye. I’m fine. In fact, I’m done! “Widdershins gives one more swipe of the exterior wall with a fresh coat of white paint. “Is that all, or do you want me to paint the inside as well?”

Hector thinks the inside of the house is fine. The exterior of the house was in worser conditions than the interior. They had to hose the house top to bottom before Widdershins gave it a paint job. Since Widdershins ask it…

“Why yes! Thank you for volunteering!”

ˉ\(ʘ▲ʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(ʘᴗʘ)/ˉ ˉ\(○v○)/ˉ ˉ\(^ᴗ^)/ˉ ˉ\(⌐ᴗ⌐)/ˉ ˉ\(ᵔᴗᵔ)/‾ ˉ\(°ᴗ°)/ˉ

“Don’t you dare do what I think you’re going to do, Quagmire.” Fernald glares at Isadora.

“What do you mean?” asks Isadora with a cheeky smile. “Do you mean ratting you out to Hector? That he and I warned you if you weren’t careful with your hooks, you could punctured the wall while cleaning, and that you’re going get in trouble for it?”

“Yes.”

“Why, that’s a great idea!” Isadora runs off to the living room. “Hector, guess what the Hook-Handed Man did despite us telling him otherwise!?”

Fernald stays silent before giving out a laugh. Isadora has a point.

[monomonomagines]

Halloween Prompt #10 Decorations with Kiyotaka

It had been hours at least since you and Taka had begun decorating the school’s halls. It wasn’t often that he took the time to celebrate anything using the school’s grounds and while you admit it was nice that he was willing to now, you did feel a bit guilty about the way in which you did convince him. As a kid, the elementary school you went to would always decorate the classrooms and halls in time for Halloween and as you wanted to be able to do something fun with Taka decided to tell him that it helped your productivity. Something which Taka clearly takes seriously. If there did happen to be any correlation to decorations in a school environment helping to increase the students productivity then  there was no way he could enforce anything against the holidays or at least on that front that is.

As soon as he accepted your reasoning, you could tell that you definitely made a mistake as Taka was now fired up as ever, a passionate flame glowing in his eyes. He had immediately gotten ahead of himself, telling you to wake up early and head to the school’s main hall the next day and not to “Be tardy,” as he oh so often said and you knew you really ought to listen. Taka could go on and on with his scoldings regardless of the good intent behind them and with the fact that you had told him such a blatant lie you knew there was no arguing your way out of this.

Now trudging your way through the cold October weather at about 6 in the morning. If not for the cold it would’ve probably actually been harder to wake up though you’d admit it did make the trip outside feel a hell of a lot more daunting than if you awoke to a peaceful warm spring morning. Instead of any spring morning though, you were stuck with the cruel reality of this dreary and chilly morning as you walked over dead leaves that littered the sidewalks you take in the same manner that snow sprinkles all over the place. Keeping count of each little crunch you could hear under your shoes, you had no choice but to continue to walk, stopping only once you approached the heavy front door’s of the academy, quickly opening them to allow yourself entry.

As soon as you enter an energetic voice calls out to you, happily. One you recognize to be Taka instantaneously as he bounds over to you in a careful manner, making sure not to run in the halls.

“S/O! I’m glad you made it on time! I’ve procured a few crates worth of banners and other types of decorations that we can hand on the walls here in the hall and classrooms! Since it’s six and school normally starts in no more than two hours, I do believe that we should still have sufficient time to make this place a real Halloween bash!”

Struggling not to laugh at how Taka butchered his attempt at referencing the Monster Mash you nod, smiling at his enthusiasm. You weren’t looking forward to decorating nonstop really but Taka did have a way of getting you pumped up just by getting so passionate. As you both were dividing up the work and beginning to decorate, you quickly realized that this would be a lot harder than Taka had anticipated. When he said a few crates worth of decorations, he really meant that the crates were filled to the brim with what seemed like hundreds of banners and other decorations that you could hang up throughout the halls.

You didn’t need to really go through with this. You could just tell Taka that you were telling a lie but when you saw that passionate look in his eyes you couldn’t find the courage to. Instead, you simply sucked it up and began to decorate the hall with Taka, spending enough time to get through one of the several huge crates he brought with him. How did he even find so many decorations anyways? As much as you were having fun you knew that there was no way you’d get this done with the amount he brought, no matter how much passion you both showed.

As a little over an hour passed, you knew it was getting close to school starting and could tell that Taka wasn’t even thinking of giving up. In fact, you already knew that if you didn’t tell him right now about your lie, he’d even insist on continuing to add morning decorating to your schedules for the rest of the week if it took that long. That’s why you knew you had to speak up, even if it meant he was angry or hurt. It wasn’t right to have him working so hard when it’s not for anything other than for you and the others to have a little bit of fun.

Gulping down as much air as you could, you steady yourself as you firmly call out his name. “Taka, I need to tell you something.”

Hearing the urgency in your voice, Taka looks down at you from his place on a stepladder you both borrowed from the school’s supplies. “Yes, S/o? I know school is about to start, but don’t worry! I’m certain we’ll be able to get through at least another crate and get to class on time.”

“No, Taka that’s not it.” You interrupt him before he can continue, causing him to look at you with scrunched eyebrows and concerned eyes. “I lied about this improving productivity. I just wanted to be able to have fun at school with you and the others without it being a problem. I’m sorry really I didn’t mean for this to go on so long.” You add, feeling tears prick at your eyes as Taka’s expression softens.

“S/o, if you wanted to just spend the Holidays together you just needed to ask. Whether I’m being festive or not won’t ever stop that!” He tries to assure you, stepping off the ladder slowly.

“I know, I just I wanted you to be or to try at least. I know that was selfish of me.” You mutter out, feeling like a child about to be scolded.

However, rather than any scolding you only felt his hand holding your own, a gentle smile on his face to contrast his sad looking eyes. “I’m glad that you understand that lying was wrong of you and that’s exactly why I can forgive you S/o.”

“R-really!?” You squeak out, surprised by his sudden closeness despite his rules against PDA.

“Yes, of course! However that’s why I’m hoping that you’ll forgive me as well for this.” He replies, placing a thin slip of paper in your hands.

“Wh-what’s this?” You ask, turning it over and examining the writing on the slip.

“It’s a detention slip. Not only did you cause a clear distraction in others workplaces but you also lied to me!” Taka, replies shaking his head in disapproval.

“Taka are you seriously-”

“Of course I am! As soon as you’re done serving your sentence in detention I’ll spend the Holidays with you, ok?”

[sylvanianfamiliez]

thinking about my bedroom i want to do it up NOW. i only ever get the energy in the middle of the night but i’m thinkin abt it

i feel so bad abt buying new dolls and things i love bcuz i don’t rly hsve the proper space for it but i have shelves i just haven’t put them up. i was gonna get somebody in to do bcuz honestly i don’t rly want to do it myself it but it’s been over a year and i’m just like. what if i just did it myself

god the problem is i REALLY need somebody to help me who’s on my level but i feel so bad asking my mama for help and whenever i do she ends up destroying my organisation. she gets mad at me for not being organised but whenever i am she always shoves things in the wrong place and i don’t have the energy to put them back where they should be

but anyway i’m thinking about just putting up my shelves. my dad has the tools i think or at least he used to so i could ask him if i could borrow them. i guess he might have sold them since he can’t rly use them anymore? i will ask. also i need to find the stepladder too bcuz i want to reorganise the shelf i do have.

[solartranslations]

Nova 4/24: Just a Little More

Seeing her heading to the study while holding a mountain of books…

~*Scene: Hallway*~

Nova: Hey, you shouldn’t pile up so many books that you can’t see in front of you

❤≪Nova≫ Seems nervous

Daily: I thought the books were walking

Place: There’s a book in the study that I was interested in

Person: Surprisingly, Fred reads books

Nova: See, you’re staggering

Nova: Besides, there’s no way you can carry all that yourse…

Nova: Ah, hey

Nova: Watch out!!

❤≪Nova≫ Can't seem to handle it

Person: You should ask someone for help…

Place: There’s a book in the study that I was interested in

Daily: Books are heavy

Nova: Hey, you’re not hurt, right?

Felicita: No

Nova: Seriously, don’t be so reckless

Felicita: !

Nova: As long as you understand, it’s fine. Anyway, I’ll help you carry the books

Nova: This is why I can’t leave you alone

Nova: We just need to return these books to the study, right?

Nova: Hurry up. I’ll leave you behind

~*Scene: Study*~

Nova: Alright, first let’s put the books you borrowed back where they belong

❤≪Nova≫ Seems as usual

Person: There sure are a lot of them though

Place: I’ll find the book I want after taking care of this

???: ???

Nova: After sorting them, we’ll split them between us to put back

~*Scene: Study*~

Nova: *sigh*, we finally put them all back

❤≪Nova≫ Seems as usual

Person: There were so many…

Place: I should go find the book I wanted soon

???: ???

Nova: But why did you borrow so many?

>I forgot to return them

(No Amore)

>I wanted to…study

(+10 Amore)

>I got asked to while I was on the way here…

(+5 Amore)

Nova: If you only borrow what you can read in one sitting, that wouldn’t happen

Nova: Think a little more when you borrow books

Nova: Studying is good, but trying to cram in too much is not effective

Nova: You should narrow your focus more

Nova: Concentrate on deepening your understanding of one thing

Nova: You were asked to return things for others while you were coming here?

Nova: You should be more aware of how much you can carry. You’re too nice

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned ❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Place: Maybe I should have someone manage the study

Pleasure: It’s good that she’s interested in a lot of things

Pain: …Actually, I also have a book that I forgot to return

Pleasure: That’s a good attitude

Pain: What she picked out is all over the place

Place: I’ll recommend the book I wanted to her

Pain: By who!?

Place: I’ll look for the book that Fred recommended

Person: It can be hard being a good person…

Nova: You were just borrowing things at random, weren’t you?

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Place: I’ll find a book that’s right for her

Daily: I’ll look for the book that Fred recommended later

Pleasure: It’s good that she’s interested in a lot of things

Nova: I’ll go pick out a book that I think you’ll need

Nova: The Swords are involved in maintaining the law, right?

Nova: So try a book about foreign laws

Nova: There should be a few of them in the study

Nova: You can use them as reference, it should be around here…

Nova: Ah, here it is

Nova: ……

❤≪Nova≫ Seems irritated

Arcana: …I don’t want to admit it

Pain: I can’t reach it…

Felicita: !

Dante: Oh, Ojou-san, are you looking for something?

❤≪Dante≫ Seems as usual

Place: There should be a reference of nautical charts here

Daily: She’s quite studious

Dante: I came to borrow books too

Nova: ……

Dante: What’s wrong, Nova? You can’t reach the books up there?

Dante: I’ll get it for you

Dante: Here, is that all?

❤≪Nova≫ Can't seem to handle it

Person: Why did Dante come here!?

Arcana: I won’t admit it!

Pain: I couldn’t reach it…!!

Nova: …Don’t….

Dante: What? It wasn’t this book?

Nova: …Don’t look down on me just because you’re tall

Dante: No, I wasn’t…you just looked like you needed help

❤≪Dante≫ Seems as usual

Person: What happened?

Place: There should be a reference of nautical charts here

(*dramatic effect) Nova: Shut up!!!

Nova: You can just, you can just…become Jolly’s octopus!!!!

(*shock) Dante: I’m, Jolly’s octopus? Octopus, I’m an octopus, octopus…

❤≪Dante≫ Seems shocked

Person: I don’t understand…

~*Scene: Felicita's Room*~

Nova: Sorry for leaving you earlier today

❤≪Nova≫ Seems concerned

Person: You can ask me about books

Link: This is an apology

Place: I’ll put a stepladder in the study

Nova: I think this book will be useful to you

Nova: When you’re finished with it, I’ll find you another book

~*End of Scene*~

You have one Heart Voice. It can be heard within SPECIAL

(Continue to Common Route April 25)

(Back to Directory)

[fredheads]

Has Fred ever taken care of sick/hurt/messy drunk/sad Hal?

magic 8 ball says: positively so! 

when hal was semi-conscious at a high school party after drinking himself into oblivion to forget a fight with alice, fred tried with all his might to get him back on his feet... he kept saying “come on, buddy, up and at em!” and trying with all his might to haul hal’s entire body weight over his weak little shoulders while hal just kind of laid there like a sack... he almost died trying to lift him but what are friends for? 

when they were older he took the rap once when hal served himself a slice of the pecan pie alice made specifically for her book club meeting later that afternoon.. definitely the reason hal lived into his 40s. 

forfeited a cross-country meet to help hal when he broke his ankle and no one else was around... walked him to the first aid station and told him jokes to take his mind off the pain. (hiram came in first but everyone was too worried about hal to pay attention to him, so he was pissed.)

took the girls for a day after caramel died and hal wanted to be alone... and came by to drink with him after lewis died and started swapping his drinks out for water halfway through. he made sure he got in bed and told him everything was going to be ok. 

refused to let hal drive drunk in the middle of a storm after alice was sent off to the sisters. he stole both his sets of car keys and hid them and then cried when hal yelled at him so he’d feel bad and give in. 

hal was so sad when chic was living there and polly was gone that fred, unprompted, brought back the stepladder he borrowed from him in 2008 and even his car vacuum from 2012 that hal thought he’d never see again.. the knowledge that he could finally vacuum his car properly again shook hal out of his slump 

[khaelisfics]

One more Soulmate AU - based on the concept, “whatever your soulmate loses ends up in your possession”, and I quite liked this idea!

Tagging @doctorroseprompts, in case this can fit into a prompt!

I hope you’ll like it! :-)

He was used to the mystery of socks somehow disappearing in the transdimensional portal that must have been built in his laundry machine. He was used to cufflinks being disintegrated from existence by inexplicable powers that must have enjoyed wearing expensive suits. He was used to losing many things. Most of them worthless, things he didn’t even realize were gone - like plastic spoons in his kitchen cupboard, coins in his pockets, lottery tickets he left in that hideous glass bowl on the coffee table. But some others, he cherished and loved, he regretted and needed. Like that rare edition of his favorite book, like that unique tie he had had made for a small fortune. Like that cute coffee mug he had brought back from a vacation on the other side of the world. And like the keys he had probably lost on his way to work in the morning - he didn’t love those, but he really needed them.

Computer case stuck under his arm, he feverishly patted his jacket, his trousers, rummaged through the pockets he had already searched over and over again. Phone, pencil, glasses case, biscuit crumbs, little bits of a tissue the sock-eating machine had destroyed. No keys. Definitely lost.

He glared at the door as if it were the one responsible and took his phone out of his pocket. Past eight in the evening, London, posh neighbourhood. He knew it would cost two bags of pure gold and diamonds to have a locksmith change the lock, but he didn’t have much choice. At least, he hadn’t lost his wallet. He shoved his hand in his inner pocket with a sigh that was immediately sucked in through a gasp when his fingers met nothing but the cool silk of the lining.

“Fuck’s sake, this has to be a bloody joke,” he cursed under his breath, going over the same pockets, again, patting them, again, as if it would magically appear if he prayed hard enough.

He threw worried and desperate glances around to find someone, or something that could help him out of his misery. No one, nothing. Except his neighbour precariously balancing himself on a stepladder to cut dead branches in his pear tree - someone who grew pears couldn’t be trusted, he knew that, but without keys, money or hope, he was his only way out. With a resolved shrug, he walked to the white-picket fence.

“Excuse-me!” he called out over the sound of clicking shears to grab his attention. “Sorry to bother you, I’ve lost my keys and I need to climb over the hedge of my backyard to access the back door. D’you mind if I borrow your stepladder for a minute?”

It probably was a bad plan, a very stupid plan, but he only realized that once his hands struggled to find purchase on the thin trellis behind the wall of pointy branches and thorns hidden among the leaves of the hedge and his legs quivered on the unstable stepladder. Too late to back down.

He swiftly threw a leg over the hedge all while pushing himself up on the trellis, and he would have landed just fine on the grass if his trousers hadn’t hooked into the pointy branches and thorns. He cursed at feel of his leg getting stuck, winced at the dreadful sound of ripping material, cursed again when his weight got the better of the seams, and moaned in pain when he crashed down on his shoulder.

“You alright, mate?” the neighbour asked from behind the hedge - the smile in his words didn’t go unnoticed, but what else could be expected from a man who grew pears anyway? “Fine,” he grunted as he scrambled back to his feet, massaging his sore shoulder and assessing the damage to his beloved pinstriped trousers. “Thanks for your help, much appreciated. See you later.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and walked straight to the door he hoped was actually unlocked like it should be. He rolled his eyes in relief, the doorknob turning without a protest, and while he had half a mind to crash on his couch for the rest of the evening, he knew he had to do something about his lost credit card and papers and keys. Those were definitely the worst things he had ever lost, expensive tie and cute mug be damned.

Just as he was about to pick up his phone, a loud series of knocks echoed from his front door.

“Oh, this better be important,” he grumbled, going to the hideous bowl sitting on the coffee table to fetch the spare key.

He was set on sending whoever was behind that door away as fast as he could without sounding too rude, make the few calls required about his lost possessions and forget about this awful day with a good, long night of well-deserved sleep. Whoever they were, they needed to be gone. Soon.

“Hello, Mister… John Smith?”

Okay, maybe not too soon. He gaped for a moment at this beautiful blonde woman standing there, a big cardboard box in her hands, a tiny smile on her lips.

“You are?” he asked after he managed to wipe his delighted surprise from his face. “‘M Rose, Rose Tyler,” she answered, nibbling her lower lip as if she were embarrassed to be there. “I think I’ve found some stuff that belongs to you.” “Oh, please tell me you have my wallet.” “Yeah, that’s how I found your address,” she nodded - her tiny smile turned into a full grin at the relieved breath he blew through his nose. “And I suppose the keys are yours too, aren’t they?” “You are a lifesaver, Miss Tyler, and I love you,” he beamed at her, taking a step to the side to let her in. “Please, do come in. Would you like some tea?” “Only if you’d like some too,” she shrugged, the movement causing whatever was inside her box to rattle and clatter.

A few minutes later, they were both sitting on the couch, two mugs of steaming chamomile tea on the coffee table. Rose - what a lovely name that was, Rose, and what a beautiful woman she was, Rose - reached into her purse and took out a dark blue wallet and a heavy keyring she dropped into his awaiting palms.

“Where did you find them?” he asked, flipping through his wallet to make sure nothing was missing. “In that coffee shop on Lexington street, you know, near the university,” she told him as she clasped her hands over her lap. “I found your professor badge inside it, so I wanted to drop them at the lost property office, but I thought… Well, I think I’ve found more than just your keys and your wallet.”

She purposefully eyed the box at her feet, and his heart started to thud just a bit harder against his ribs. He had heard about it a few times, but had never really believed, nor cared about it much. He was a scientist, he didn’t believe in fate, destiny, soulmates, and all those ethereal things people liked to consider real and veritable. It made no sense. People couldn’t fall in love thanks to lost plastic spoons and, should he dare think, wallets and keys. Rose seemed to be a very nice woman, a very kind and clever woman, she had found his things and brought them back, but if that were enough to fall in love, he would have fallen in love a hundred times before. Except he had never fallen in love. Not once. Maybe that was because this Rose truly was his soulmate, and he couldn’t love anyone else.

He disguised his derisive chuckle under a discreet cough and took a sip of his tea.

“So, what else do you think you’ve found, then?” he asked, suddenly uneasy to look into her eyes and find something else, something he wasn’t looking for. “Well, that’s just a wild guess, but… It does have your name on it.”

She rummaged through her box, that seemed to be rather full, and picked up a heavy book, all leather, engraved with golden letters and silver drawings. His heart leapt, or stopped, he couldn’t be sure. He knew that book. His favourite book, the one he had lost a little more than a year back. He reverently took it from her hands, ran his fingers over the thick cover and turned to the second page where his name was written in sharp, small letters in a corner. She had found his wallet, his keys, his book. And if all that stuff in that box was his, too, then maybe… Just maybe...

“The thing is, you’re not the only John Smith around, you know,” Rose explained, unaware of the conflicted thoughts shooting through his brain. “I found it on a bench in Green Park and took it with me. I thought, well, maybe one day I could give it back to its owner. It is yours, isn’t it?” “Uh, yeah, it is,” he nodded with a pleased smile that greatly contrasted with his inner turmoil. “Quite an act of providence, right? What were the odds of you finding my lost stuff twice?” “Could be more than twice, John,” she pointed out, a light blush rising on her cheeks. “Could be lots and lots of times. If what’s in that box is all yours, that is.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to find out everything she had gathered belonged to him. If it did, providence or luck wouldn’t be enough to justify it. It would probably mean he had been wrong, very wrong to refuse to believe in what he called preposterous faith in magic. He had been wrong, very wrong to refuse to see what the drawer he walked past everyday was. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, the less he wanted to believe. If he believed the contents of that box were his, if he believed the contents of his drawer were hers, if he believed in soulmates… He would have to believe this Rose who had knocked on his door out of the blue was his. Believe this beautiful woman was the one. The love of his life.

His heart stopped, for a few seconds, just to give it the necessary momentum to break into a wild gallop that threatened to crush his ribcage. She had just taken out a tie. He knew that tie, too. What he didn’t know was what the Heck was happening to him. He was having an attack. Probably. That was the only explanation he could find to the odd warmth that spread through his limbs and the blurred filter that fell before his eyes. Had Rose always looked so perfect? It didn’t matter. She was perfect. God, it was becoming stifling hot in this house, he should open the drawer, no, the windows, get some of her stuff in that drawer to show her he was the one for her, no, get some air, just some air.

“John, are you alright?” Rose asked when he failed to speak despite his mouth opening and closing on regular intervals, an alarming red hue colouring his cheeks. “Oh yes, always alright, me, just a little hot,”, he nodded, pulling on his tie knot with a finger to loosen it.  “Don’t you think it’s hot? It is hot, isn’t it, my air conditioner must be broken or something, it’s… What?”

Of course she would look at him as if he were a nutter speaking too many words at once, but he couldn’t help it, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. Until he noticed Rose - what a perfect name that was, Rose, what a perfect woman she was, Rose - wasn’t staring at him, but at his wrist. He followed her eyes to the bracelet he wore. Not a bracelet, really, just a black hairband he had found two or three years ago on a bus ride to work. He didn’t know why he had kept it. No one kept hairbands they found on buses, no one thought it a good idea to put hairbands they found on buses around their wrists. But he had. Without a second-thought, he had just picked it up, snapped it around his wrist, and had never taken it off. Because it was hers. He knew that now. It was hers. Could it even be?

“If you look under the little metal bit,” she started softly, daring to shuffle close to him and take his hand - oh, Rose smelt nice, and her hands were soft, and had he already told her how perfect she was? “You’ll find a bit of blue. Blue wool. That hairband got stuck in one of my jumpers quite a while ago. John… I don’t suppose you’ve ever found a sketchbook, or a fountain pen, or…” “A grey scarf, a tiny purse with a cat, a star-shaped button?” he continued for her with a huge grin splattered over his face, hurrying towards his drawer to take it out of its cupboard. “A silver ring, a cinema ticket, a phone charger, a USB key?”

He felt like he was drunk A strange kind of inhibition that had him ranting on about all those things he had gathered over the years. Her things. He saw that in the way her smile grew at each listed item, her heard that in the way her breath quickened, he felt that in the way her body oozed joy and relief. Was that how it felt to find them? To find the one and only person to love, the one and only person to be loved by? Wonderful, scary, thrilling, awkward? So very awkward, it was. He looked at her, at Rose, sitting just a few feet away, and he frowned because she wasn’t supposed to be this far. She was supposed to be in his arms, close to him, he was supposed to hold her and kiss her and kiss her some more. He had just met her and he already loved her. Maybe he was drunk.

“I think we’re both drunk, then,” Rose giggled at the thought he had spoken aloud, reaching out with a hand she clasped around his. “It’s odd, isn’t it? To know you love someone before you even know who they are.” “Who told you I loved you, Rose Tyler?” he raised an eyebrow as he plopped back down on the couch beside her, unconsciously sliding a hand on the side of her neck. “You did. When you opened the door. And  a minute ago. And…”

He kissed her. Just a soft kiss on her plump lips, a kiss that was just enough to confirm what they both already knew. He loved her. He still didn’t understand why, but when she cupped her cheeks to deepen the kiss, he knew it wouldn’t take long before he found out. The whole soulmate thing was odd, maybe absurd - honestly, falling in love thanks to lost hairbands and cufflinks did sound preposterous. But when she slipped her hand under his shirt and pushed him down on a cushion to straddle his waist, he knew he wanted to believe.

[heartfeltshield]

"Careful!" Warning is swiftly spoken as she watches Mash place books in the uppermost shelves. "I don't want you to fall!"

@aemiliiu​

“Relax, I got it--!!” Being on tippy-toes while on a mini-stepladder was a harrowing experience, especially when having to (or volunteering, to be more precise) put all recently borrowed books back to their proper shelves. This was the last one among the bunch, and thankfully this time there was no accident to be recorded. Only after stepping down from such perilous heights does she turn to the bookworm, proud that her job for today is done. “I believe that’s the last of the books that were lent. Are there any more errands you need to finish before we can close up shop?”