#Bubble & Brace

[curryvillain]

.@Mavado_Gully Reconnects With @DiGenius1 For "Bubble & Brace" Single

The Summer is around the corner, and there are two people who seek to own it. After not collaborating for a number of years, Mavado and Stephen “Di Genius” McGregor reunite for a new single that is bound to make plenty noise. They get things started in, “Bubble & Brace“. For the ladies who know that they possess a special kind of beauty, and know how to be the centre of attention, Mavado and Di…

[friendofgum]

I wonder if other neurodivergent people feel like they have to amp up their masking abilities even more in response to chronic pain or a physical disability

When I was just neurodivergent but able-bodied, I felt like I had to mask in order to fit in and navigate new social situations, but with certain groups of people I could let it slip and I'd be ok, because they already know I'm quirky and weird and it's not really a big deal

But now I'm not just masking my ND traits, I'm also masking an epic truckload of physical pain and discomfort. Which makes it more difficult to focus, of course, but also, I feel I need to mask harder than ever because visible discomfort makes other people uncomfortable

Especially high-empathy people

If I look miserable every time someone sees me, and that person has the capacity to feel empathy, then they will feel bad when they see me. Even if they like me, this will make them want to see me less. Eventually, before I even realize it, everyone will be gone. I also just don't want people to feel bad when they see me, I want them to be happy that I'm around.

So lately I've been like, extra bubbly? Way more than is normal for me, I guess. I worry that people are looking at my cane and knee braces and feeling bad for me, so I crack a joke or say how nice something I'm observing is, or just something else, anything that might put some positive air into the room

But I feel so fake???

[luveline]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary Steve might be acting strange but he's still a good friend. If he did get body snatched, the aliens are doing a great job at making you like him. [3.2k]

warnings fem!reader, anxious reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, steve pining, mutual pining, soft and protective steve, no spoilers, kind of requested

𓆩❤︎𓆪

An orange as big as your fist falls into your lap. You flinch away from it before you realise what it is, and an apology echoes from overhead. 

"Shit," Steve says quietly. "Babe, I'm sorry. Thought you heard me." 

Your nose wrinkles at his pet name. An inadvertent reaction to your own feelings, how his calling you 'babe' is enough to amp up your already racing heart.

Steve sits down easily beside you, the two of you knee to knee under the ticket counter. There's a hubbub of noise behind you but on your lunch break that's a world's away, somebody else's problem. 

"It's hard to hear anything when it's so loud in here," you explain, smiling at him in greeting. You love it when he comes to visit you. 

He's still wearing his Family Video vest. He must be on break too. You take the orange into your hand. Its rind is amazingly cold and a beautiful, deep orange. 

"This is huge," you say, offering it back to him. 

He takes it and pulls the small pocket knife you'd known he'd bring with him from his jeans, performing a dangerous manoeuvre wherein he slices it into two in his palm. The zesty smell of citrus clouds the air quickly, replacing the Palace arcade's musk. 

"It's a big one, for sure." He cuts one half into two quarters and passes them into your eager hand. "I hope it's good. Sixty cents at Bradley's." 

"For one orange?" you ask, licking a drop of juice off of your finger before digging into your given treasure. 

"Good thing I like you so much," he says, cutting his own half into two. 

You grin around your orange slice and he grins back, popping the rind between his teeth. Even with his lips parted this wide and your absurd orange slice smiles he's handsome. You almost choke from laughter, pulling the peel from your mouth, cheeks full of sweet flesh. 

"It's a good one," you confirm. He nods his agreement. 

Your coworker walks towards the desk, sees you behind it and swiftly turns on her heel. 

"She doesn't like you," you say quietly, pulling the corners of your second slice until juice bubbles up past broken skin. 

Steve's already finished his, the rinds clean on his dark jeans. He scowls at your observation, leaning back with his arms braced behind him. 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Sorry, I didn't mean- uh," you stammer, put off by his stern look. 

He softens quickly, his frown melting away. "Tell me why you think she doesn't like me," he rephrases. 

You toy with the orange slice in your hand and try to quell the nausea that has swept you up. You've been like this for as long as you can remember – so afraid to upset people that even a hint of displeasure sickens you. Steve seems to understand, and he knows how to talk you down. Most of the time. 

"Well, she won't come near me when you're here," you say.

"Maybe she's just giving us some privacy." He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You take a big bite of orange and cover your mouth with your hand. "For what?" you ask, perplexed. 

Steve shifts and the veins in his arms flex. "Just in general." There's something weird about how he says it, though you're hardly one to judge.

"Hey, what are you doing after work?" he asks. 

You wipe your face with the back of your hand.

"You wanna come over? Watch an old movie?" 

You love old movies. "Sure. Yeah. Thank you." 

He smiles like he's endeared and you feel at once patronised and well-loved. Steve flicks his wrist to check the time and doesn't like the answer, moving to his knees to take the peel from your lap. He kisses your cheek before you know what he's doing and stands. 

"I'll see you later, okay?" 

"Okay," you say, slightly breathless and very confused. 

You watch him walk away and wonder if your Steve has been replaced with a doppelganger. It would explain why he's wearing dark jeans, you reason. But he'd been too Steve to not be Steve, too weirdly caring, too perceptive of your feelings. 

You're still wondering why he kissed you when you leave the Palace. The short walk is racked by trepidation. Is this, like, a bodysnatchers scenario? You peer through the glass door for a moment to analyse his behaviour but he looks normal as ever behind the counter, a rubik's cube in his hands. 

You let yourself in and his expression clears, frustration turning to something much kinder. "Hey. Come pick a movie for us." 

You smile nervously and stride into the room. The neon behind him is bright and paints him pink now that the sun's going down. 

"Are you closing soon?" you ask. 

Steve points to the sign. You look over your shoulder and flush with heat, embarrassed. "Already closed. Just waiting for you." 

"Sorry, I took forever-" 

"S'fine. Choose a movie, babe. And snacks, if you want them." He nods to the Indiana Jones stand boasting long bags of yellow buttered popcorn and pink-blue candyfloss. 

"You don't want to pick?" you ask. 

It's so quiet in the store that speaking feels taboo. 

"I picked last time! Go, go pick one. Don't be lazy." 

He sets down the puzzle and follows you to the section you always peruse, transatlantic movies from the fifties. There aren't too many, but enough. You can't make up your mind, finger trailing lightly over their tops, weighing your options whilst trying to work out what it is that's wrong with Steve. 

Maybe he has been body snatched. He's so quiet. Usually he'd be filling the silence with something, an anecdote from work, a debate with Robin that he wants a verdict for. 

Your finger comes to a random stop. You look to him, mouth open and about to ask him if he's alright when he asks, "That one again?" 

His hand reaches for it and your fingers brush, his thumb sliding over your index finger. He grabs the tape and turns it around to read the summary though he's seen it before at least three times. 

"You always cry in the middle. Think you can handle it today? I don't want you crying as bad as you did last time, that was heartbreaking," he says conversationally.

You're close enough to see the sparse freckles on his skin. Almost invisible. What can only be a handful of them. Your breath catches as he meets your eyes, a teasing smile taking his lips as he holds the VHS aloft and shakes it. 

"I won't cry," you say. 

"Are you sure?" he asks. 

"Yeah." 

He looks between your eyes as if you might break and change your answer, but you don't, and he tucks the tape to his chest. "Alright. Get your snacks. I'll rent it." 

You're glad to get some space from him, more than confused, your heartbeat fast at your wrist. You worry your thumb over your pulse point and stare at the popcorn, willing yourself to calm down. You can't tell whether this is your everyday anxiety or because of Steve, and if it is because of Steve, what are you going to do? Steve's your friend. 

You've always liked him a little bit more than you should. You'd never considered he might like you anymore than as a friend, but his affection seems far past the bounds of amity. What if Steve likes me? you think, nibbling your bottom lip. 

Steve plucks a bag of popcorn off the stand from over your shoulder, surprising you for the third time today. You wince and he goes all soft. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I did it again." 

"I was in my head," you say, wanting to reassure him. It's hardly his fault you're flighty. 

He lets his arms drop from his chest, the popcorn and movie held in loose fingers. "Is it bad today?" he asks gently. 

You shake your head, then pause. "I mean. A little. I don't know how to explain it." 

Steve puts your movie bounties in one hand and tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear quickly, scratching at his neck. "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

"It's just work, Steve," you say, not entirely truthful. 

You can see that he's caught you, disbelief in the way his lips part, like he might pry. He doesn't, only nods and takes your shoulder into his hand to give you a familiar, bruising squeeze. You'd think after what must be a hundred or more of these you'd be used to them. 

"Let's go," he says. 

He flicks off the lights and shepherd's you out of the door to lock it. You don't stay to watch, letting yourself into the 733i to hide from the gnats swarming the store's overhead light. 

"Buckle up," he says as he climbs in, dumping the popcorn and movie into your lap. 

"I'm already buckled." 

"Double buckle? I don't know. Don't get sarcy with me." 

You bite back a smile and as soon as Steve's turned on the engine you're reaching for the stereo, pressing eject on the tape deck to see what cassette is currently inside. 

"She's So Unusual?" you ask, grinning.

"That's not mine." 

"Uh-huh." 

"It's not. That's Max's." 

"I know for a fact that Max doesn't like Cyndi Lauper." 

Steve grabs your seat with his left hand to reverse out of the parking lot and you blink rapidly to dispel the traitorous thoughts that instantly infiltrate your mind, whispers of fuck, and oh, and Jesus, his arms. 

"How would you know that?" he asks, his voice low enough to make your stomach ache with butterflies. 

You catch his eyes as he turns back to the wheel. His eyes are about as dark as his voice, smooth as velveteen. 

You're so flustered you forget to answer. Steve takes your silence for the wrong thing, his devil-may-care grin turning down. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. 

You shove She's So Unusual back into the stereo. "She told me. When you took us up to Indianapolis." 

Steve reaches out for your hand in your lap and rolls your fingers in his. "Are you okay?" he asks again. 

You squeeze his fingers weakly. "Yeah," you say. It's an unconvincing attempt and neither of you miss it. Your chest is hurting, a tightening. You try not not pay it any mind because focusing on the worry will only make it worse, but the thing is – you can't not feel it. It's impossible to ignore. 

"Take a deep breath," he says. 

You nod and do what he says. In through your mouth, out through your nose. Slow. In through your mouth. Hold it. Out through your nose. Steve's hand an anchor in your lap, his breathing an exaggerated instruction for you to follow. 

"You've had a long week, huh?" he murmurs sympathetically. 

"I'm okay," you say, the panic waning again. 

You're waiting for the dam to break, but Steve keeps it at bay for a moment, his presence and touch undoubtedly and invaluable. Soothing, he rubs the back of your hand and returns his hand to the wheel. 

Your relationship with Steve could be described in so many ways; amicable, irreplaceable, soppy words with big meanings. Or it could be described like this, your skin still tingling from his hand, a thousand small touches over the time you've been friends and each one a brand. 

A phantom bruise, aching like he'd kissed your fingers to tenderness.

You bring your hand to your neck and push into your skin, searching for the gap between your collar bnes.

"I can take you home, if you want. Not that I want you to go home." He rushes over his words. Very not Steve. Again, you think of your body snatcher theory. "I know it's easier sometimes to be by yourself." 

"I don't want to be alone." 

He turns to you and he really shouldn't because he's driving, giving you a three second smile that feels like three minutes before he says, "Lucky me." 

Up the driveway, out of the car and sequestered in Steve's living room. You collapse into his couch and pull one of the cushions onto your chest for a little bit of compression, to hide away for just a second.

"Take your shoes off," Steve encourages, flicking on the TV. 

"I will." 

He huffs and puts the VHS into the TV. The previews and commercials begin and he slinks to where you're sitting, looking down at you quizzically. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks. 

"I was just gonna ask you the same thing." 

"Is that so…" Steve perches on the edge of the couch cushion beside you and starts to untie your shoelaces. "How am I looking at you?"

You know a trap when you hear one. You listen to the tugging sound of your shoelaces coming undone and stare at the back of Steve's head, his nice hair. You brush a rogue lock with the tip of your finger. 

"Have you seen any pink flowers around lately?" you ask. 

Steve laughs and pulls your left shoe off before starting on the right. "No?" 

"Like. Weird looking cabbages? Gelatinous creatures? Jeff Goldblum?" 

Steve finishes untying your laces and looks up as he slides off your shoe, pausing with it in his hand. "Babe," he says, real slow with an awful smirk, "are you talking about Invasion of the Body Snatchers? You think I've been replaced by an alien?" 

You shy away from his expression but double down. "Have you? I guess you wouldn't tell me." 

"Am I acting like a body snatcher? They were jerks." 

"No," you say, dragging the word as he takes off your second shoe. 

He pulls your sock up where it had been falling down before collapsing backwards, completely slouched with his hands behind his head. 

Why does he do this to you? You're having more conflicting feelings than any one person should ever have, and you're a shaken bottle of soda most days. It's like having a tube of mentos dropped in and the lid closed tight. You're gonna burst. 

Steve shifts his hips. "Where's the popcorn?" 

You fish it from the side of the couch and break it open. It smells cloying. Almost too buttery, you shake a handful into your open palm and feel the greasy fat coat your skin.

"You're not being a jerk." 

"Then why am I a body snatcher?" 

You pretend to watch the TV. "I don't know. You're just… being different." 

"Bad different?" 

"Different." 

"Am I not usually this handsome and charismatic?" he asks expectantly.

"Well, you're always handsome. Charismatic might be a stretch."

His smile fades into a straight line. "You think I'm handsome?" 

You flick a popcorn kernel at him. "Me and every person in Hawkins."

He laughs and it's not right. Weak. The two of you turn your attention back to the TV. The movie's opening credits have begun. They're always long in these black and white romances, and usually you and Steve would talk over them. 

"Of course I think you're handsome," you say. 

"Of course." 

You can't understand him. There's a hint of dejection there. You barely have to think before you're trying to salve his insecurity. 

"You have… you have these amazing brown eyes. They could talk for you. You're so expressive, and you get so frustrated, but your eyes never seem… mean." You cringe at yourself. It's a bad explanation. You try again. "You're… really pretty, Steve." 

"Pretty," he says. 

You flush with heat. "Right. Handsome. You're very handsome." 

"I liked pretty."

The movie's music blares. Traditional pop of the late forties. You decide to pretend like you've just had a completely normal conversation with your friend and now that the movies started you're invested in that instead. You share popcorn and watch the movie. 

The leading lady is crying beautiful, carved tears down her face pale as the moon. 

"But I'll miss you," you say with her. 

"You won't have to miss me. I'm only the other side of the ocean." 

"Only! Dearest, dearest, dearest," she can't go on. She cries and cries into her patterned handkerchief and her beloved clutches her wrists. 

"Dearest," he says to her. "Don't you see? An ocean is a teardrop in the face of love. You might take a step and find me at your side again." 

"But I won't," she says. You say it with her, on the verge of tears. You hate these stupid movies. 

You can feel Steve looking at you. You turn your face, eye to eye as the love interest says, "You talk with great surety. But I talk with more. I love you. I love you." 

You blink, alarmed and feeling caught. Steve's eyes flash down to your lips. You think for a moment that he's going to kiss you, and then the moment ends.

He speaks on, "Surely, that love will tenure across the Pacific." 

"You said you wouldn't cry," Steve whispers. Then,  with more weight than it needs, "You're a bad liar." 

"I'm not crying," you say. You press the back of your index finger to your damp lashes and sniffle. 

He rolls his eyes and the movie goes on. Your eyes start to tire, aching from the threat of tears and a long day. You let yourself melt into the couch beneath you and pull your legs up, hand under your cheek, the other stretched into the gap between you and Steve. 

You're just gonna sleep for five minutes, you swear, but suddenly it's dark and the movies ended, and Steve's whispering. 

"Are you awake?" he asks. 

You're afraid to say yes. You don't want him to make you go home or set you up in his bed, as selfish and childish as it might be, content and lazy and really wanting to sleep right here on the couch next to him. 

Something bumps your hand. Long, deft fingers smooth over your knuckles and trace your skin. Reverential in slowness, in care, hot fingertips that spread a feeling like light, blooming. 

"I should've told you," he says. He brushes the broad of his thumb over the back of your hand. 

Steve turns your hand and threads his fingers through yours. Should've told me what? You want him to tell you what he'd meant before a bad thought metastasizes. His hand, miraculous, keeps any unkind thought at bay, his big palm to yours, his fingers pressing into the divots of your knuckles. 

It's over too fast. He pulls his hand away and you hear him stand. He crosses the room to turn off the TV. Popcorn rattles as he ties the bag closed. 

He brings his hand to your forehead. You hardly feel it through the fog of fatigue. 

"I wish you wouldn't worry so much," Steve says. 

Something softer against your crown, and then you're falling asleep. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading! | my masterlist

[jamesholden]

Just some stuff from my lil plus sized shep fic because it's sunday. cut some saucy lines for safety LOL

“I’ve wanted to do this—only this—all shore leave,” Kaidan murmured into her collarbone, kissing along the ridge of bone. His fingers dug into her hip. Slid under the clasp of her bra as he trailed his lips back up to her ear. “But you kept getting called away. Everyone wanting to see you. And fucking Brooks.” The laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. Sionainn could tell that even Kaidan’s infinite patience was beyond tested by their new “friend”. And if she got between them and their quality time… well. Even worse for her.

He wasn’t done. “Was hoping you’d come home after you went shopping, so I could cook you a nice meal. Take you to bed.” The hand on her back unsnapped her bra, and her breath caught. The loss of his warm hands was comforted only by the fact that he removed them to slide the straps down her arms. By the knowledge of what was to come as she released his hair and let him take the bra and toss it away. Their eyes locked all the while. The urge to hide herself still rose up. Even after all this time, after Kaidan has seen her bared to him in so many ways, part of her still feared a negative reaction to the sight of her body. 

But Kaidan’s smile, his gaze, his patience as he waited to make sure she was comfortable… she felt safe with him. He couldn’t hurt her like that. She answered his unspoken questions by cradling the back of his head once more. Waiting for his next move. His smile morphed back into that smirk that warmed her belly.

“Did you come home? No. You went out.” As his lips roved down her chest, her breath quickened, and her body shifted away to give him more room. He braced her back with one large hand. The other teased from the small of her back to her hip. “Out clubbing. One of the only places you know I don’t go.” Not always. Only sometimes. When he had taken meds or hadn’t been fighting all day. A rare treat, holding him close and grinding her body against his. Not as hot though as his mouth trailing over her skin. “Dancing with God knows who while I wait for you at home.”

Sionainn’s grip on his hair tightened. “I wouldn’t. Only want to dance with you.” 

His lips curled into a smile. He used his teeth and she gasped. “Stop being so cute. You’re ruining the fantasy.”

“Oh. Oh! Right, yeah. Grinding up on men that aren’t you. Garrus or whatever.”

He groaned into her chest. The kind he did when she made a bad joke. She could hear the laugh in it, just at the beginning of the sound. “I’m trying to ravish you, baby.”

She hummed, scratched at his scalp just above his amp port. He shivered this time. “Don’t blame me. You’re being distracting. It’s so hard to focus on the jealous sex fantasy when you’re doing all that with your mouth.”

“Talking? It’s kind of integral to the fantasy bit.”

“Kissing.”

“Ah.”

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut  words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

one | two | three | four | five |

Epilogue 

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.  

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

~

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

~

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[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

WARNING: A little NSFW.

NOTE: Welcome to July! I went nearly a week with no internet, but I have returned and I intend to start jamming this fic through to the end. We're essentially entering the last "arc" of the story now and I hope you're all ready for it. Thank you for the reviews and continued readership, I appreciate that so much - especially when I'm taking forever to get this finished.

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

"Aww, c'mon, why am I the only one excited about this?"

The rest of the gang sort of shrugged noncommittally. None of them seemed to want to say aloud that the reason they couldn't summon the same level of anticipation as Yosuke was that they were still missing Narukami. Chie was staring down into her usual bowl of meat, stirring it distractedly.

"Not even you, Satonaka?!"

"Why me?!" she protested grumpily. "Like, single somebody else out, you jerk!"

Wilting in defeat, Yosuke leaned back against the railing around the school roof. "Ugh… you're all impossible."

"It's just Golden Week," Yukiko protested with a slight squirm. She wanted to be kind, to resist the temptation to pop Yosuke's little bubble of joy. But she also wanted to be realistic. "I agree, it would be wonderful to have a little vacation, but if we can't agree on where to go, and aren't that excited as a group…"

"Come on, we shouldn't have to give up that easy." Rise shrugged and hopped up from her seat. "Why don't we just do Okinawa? It's far enough that it's a vacation without being so crazy that all our time would be taken up by travel. I mean, unless we have to go all the way to Hawaii or something to have a good time."

The floppy-haired boy looked at her like she was the coming Messiah, drifting down from upon high to bless him with her presence. "Bless you. Absolutely bless you for saving me! I could kiss you!"

When he started to approach, she held up a hand palm out. "Try it and I will be wearing your teeth as a necklace." As he deflated, she turned the charm back on and pressed her hands together on one side of her face, smiling a dazzling smile. "Okinawa it is! We just need an adult to accompany us, or we're gonna get hassled a lot."

"Hmm, good point," Naoto said. Then the group as one looked toward the unsuspecting Kanji.

"Huh? Wha- I'm younger than most of you guys!"

"Yeah, but you look older," Chie pointed out with a thoughtful expression, tapping her chin with her index finger. "Do you think we could pull it off?"

While the taller boy was very clearly fuming that they thought of him as an old man, Yosuke put his fists firmly on his hips. "Yeah! I'm liking this! Next stop, the island of Okinawa!"

                                                        ~ o ~

Of course, even though at that time Rise was overjoyed, there would be complications. And one of these was pointed out to her by Ebihara after school, when they were stopping off at the Shiroku store just to take a poke around.

"Why didn't you suggest everybody go see Narukami?"

Rise stopped dead with her hand halfway reaching toward a candy bar. "Oh… I… wow, that is a really good point."

"As if I make any other kind," Ai scoffed with a half-smirk. "But yeah… probably a little late now, since you have everybody amped up to go to Okinawa. But hey, there's always summer vacation."

"Yeah, that's true… but I feel incredibly stupid. Seriously, why didn't I think of him first? We all miss him… me most of all, since he's my boyfriend."

The taller girl rolled her eyes as she picked up a bottle of green tea. "Are we going back to that? You can't do anything about it publicly right now, anyway — since the entire world is convinced you're having a 'Class S fling' before you grow up."

The words hit her so hard she had to brace against the wall to keep from pitching over. "You saw that one, huh?"

"All over every tabloid. They really like that outdated way of thinking; like girls can't legitimately want to be with girls for their whole lives. To be honest, I'm a little shocked you aren't being hounded by paparazzi at this exact second. We don't exactly have a lot of LGBT idols."

"Yes, well… there aren't any pictures, so technically, it's just a bunch of gossip from teenage girls. Only had a handful of phone calls about it, and saying 'no comment' to all those seemed to actually stop them. Pretty weird."

"That's because you're all washed up, Kujikawa," she sighed, smirking hard at her. "Yesterday's news. Retired before your time."

"Stooop! Why are you so mean to me?!" She slapped her a few times on the arm, and Ai laughed and held it up to shield herself a little better.

"Kidding! God, take a joke, bitch. But for real… maybe the word isn't out about your comeback yet, so they don't think you're worth being headline news. It will get a lot bigger when you get a lot bigger again."

At least that was a less bleak spin on the situation. Rise smiled over at her as they paid for their odds and ends and headed out. "Fine. I just don't know what difference it makes to you where we go."

"Hey, maybe I want to see Okinawa just as bad as you. Why are you the one that gets to decide everything without my input?"

"Oh, don't be such a…" Then it caught up to her, and she turned with raised eyebrows to look at her girlfriend. "What?"

"You're the one who can't finish her thought. What what?"

"I didn't think you would want to come with us."

Ai scowled as they came to a stop in the middle of the main street, hands on her hips. "You really think you're going on a big Golden Week vacation and I won't want to go with my supposed romantic partner?"

"No, not… I didn't think you would want to go with them. After what happened."

"Mm. I mean, clearly they are complete morons. But… being with you trumps having to put up with their idiotic antics. Besides… you gotta."

Jutting out her chin, she said, "Hey! I don't 'gotta' do anything but stay cute and talented!" Ai only laughed, so she stamped her foot. "Don't you laugh at me!"

"Why not? You're adorable. And anyway, I meant because I'm your giiirlfriend, so how would it look if you showed up there without me? Or if the town spotted me wandering around this week while you're out there living it up. Face it, you really painted yourself into a corner this time, Kujikawa."

Still pouting, she muttered, "Fine, senpai. I guess you know best."

"I do," she replied, mussing her hair up. Rise slapped at her hands and she laughed, and eventually Rise couldn't help laughing as well. "Sorry, I know that's a pain in the ass to fix. But you're just too cute!"

"I am," she admitted with a sigh. "And you're right; I did this whole 'public relationship' thing to get you to listen to me, and it was a dirty trick. This is my punishment. I must accept it diligently."

"Who the hell are you supposed to be now? Wait, you know what? Don't tell me. Let me just believe you lost your goddamn mind." That one earned her a lot more smackings.

                                                        ~ o ~

Everything bumped along easily enough through to the following Saturday. The minute their classes let out, the whole gang was racing home to their already-packed bags, ditching their uniforms, and hopping the train to a bus, to the airport. It was a mess of changeovers and stress, but Naoto had mapped the perfect route that would limit their time spent travelling without costing them extra. Without her, they would have been sunk.

The trip itself took the entire rest of the day. By the time they dragged themselves into their rooms in the rustic inn, they were all ready to fall immediately into bed and be dead to the world for several hours so that the next day they could enjoy themselves. The problem was…

"Wait, where are our beds?!"

Yosuke wasn't wrong. The traditional-looking room most certainly didn't have beds at all. The boy pouted as he dropped his duffel bag and clutched at his hair, scanning every nook and cranny as if one would jump out at him from the shadows.

"This does seem to be very traditional," Yukiko pointed out, scanning the room again. She immediately crossed to the closet and yanked open one of the sliding doors. "Ah! Futon."

"Futon?! Aww, I thought they'd have Western beds! We're on vacation, for cryin' out loud!"

"Don't be such a baby," Chie sighed, stretching her limbs. "Feel more sorry for those of us who don't like sleeping with a bunch of nosy jerks so close to each other. Like you."

While he was pouting and grumbling, Rise glanced between her and the dutiful Yukiko, who was already laying out the futons for everyone without prompting. Falling into her usual job. Chie probably meant that she was upset she wouldn't get much "alone time" with her girlfriend while they were all lying on top of each other. That really was too bad; even if she had barely tasted true love with Narukami, and seen hints of it in a certain affluent team manager, she knew that being kept away from it would likely be as agonising as it sounded.

And speak of the devil…

"Sucks to be you guys."

They all turned at once, and Rise cringed when she noticed everybody else froze. So she tried to be quick about announcing, "Hey, Ebi-chan! You made it!"

"Thank you, Welcoming Committee Of One," she snorted as she glanced around at the rest of them. "And you guys, too. Really doing a great job of making me feel like this trip was worth it."

"You don't have to be here," Chie muttered.

"What's that? It almost sounded like you had something to say, Bowl Cut."

Said bowl cut almost seemed to bristle as Chie rolled up the sleeve of her green jacket and started to stomp over toward her. But Kanji grabbed her by the neckline to hold her back. "Can't you guys save it till tomorrow?" he yawned. "I'm beat."

"Please?" Rise insisted. The tomboy looked like she wanted to protest, but she dropped back to fold her arms over her chest sulkily.

"Beautiful," Ai snorted. "I've just come to collect my property and then I'll head back to my room."

"What property is that?" Rise asked. When Ai pointed at her, she gulped and whispered, "Oh."

"I don't think that's very nice," Yukiko remarked with a slight frown.

Summoning a smile wasn't exactly easy when she was dealing with all those butterflies in her stomach, but Rise managed. "She's kidding, Yuki-chan. Thanks, though."

"Who says I was kidding? If you want me to keep playing along with this media circus, you're my bitch. Get used to it." Then she smirked at the others. "I promise to return her in good condition. Slightly used."

As they headed out, Rise bowing slightly and apologising, she overheard Chie muttering "The nerve of that guy" before the door shut behind them. Great.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yep."

"I'm really sorry. I tried to explain ab-"

"I don't give a shit what Bowl Cut thinks about me. They can all think I'm some drag queen if they want; there are worse things in the world. Like bigots."

"Y-yeah," she laughed nervously. "But I'm kinda hoping… we can all get along during this trip. Maybe they can even be better than-"

"Don't hold your breath."

"I will," she told her, a little frustrated with being cut off so many times. "I'll hold my breath until Golden Week is over if I want to, you aren't the boss of me. No matter what you just told them."

Finally, Ai turned to smirk at her as they walked along toward the other hotel room. She had flown ahead, given that she had access to more swift modes of transportation than the plebs; Rise could have done the same, but she wanted to hang with the group. "Oh, we'll see about that, bitch. But not tonight. Everybody's exhausted."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." However, she changed her tune quick when Rise turned on her heel and started walking back the way they came. "Wha- hey!" She jogged a couple of steps to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"Back to crowd into that shitty little room. It's better than being called your bitch every five seconds."

"Hey, whose fault is that? And do you really wanna have a public fight where the paparazzi can see us?"

"I don't even care. Maybe that would be for the best; then it's a public end to the public thing, and you can be an asshole to… to whoever you want, on your own time! So just leave me alone and go… to…"

The hand clamped onto her own gave her pause. The touch was firm but not rough; just enough to keep her from storming any further toward where her friends were getting ready for bed. When Rise didn't try pulling away, she caught up enough to place her other hand on Rise's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Wow, you really are a jerk." Ai swallowed hard before continuing, "I'm sorry… for being so… ugh. This is a pain in the ass."

"Then I guess I'm not worth it to you."

"Wow, loaded statement much?" No response, so she pressed ahead, "I'm trying. Okay? I'm just a bitch by default, you know that — and you did some fucked shit to me. Let me work through it if you want to get anywhere."

Rise turned and buried her face in Ai's chest, nuzzling against the side of her neck. The taller girl's breath caught and held fast. "Just be nice to me. Try?"

"Rise…" After a second, her hand drifted up to press into her back, holding her there. "Come on. Let's go get some sleep."

"Yeah." They parted, turned to head for Ai's room… but weren't walking nearly as far apart this time. That was marked progress.

                                                        ~ o ~

The next morning was a lot more interesting than that evening. They were so dead tired that they only got about half their clothes off before crawling into the futons Ai had set up — right next to each other. Her rationale was that if anyone checked the suite, it would support their claim that they were a hot-and-heavy couple. Rise found it hard to argue with that.

However, waking up with a decent-sized boner digging into her hip was a fine hello.

'Oh GOD,' she squealed internally. 'This can't be happening! Ai is all horny and too asleep for me to be able to ask her to cut that out!' In fact, she had tried to dig her elbow into her side, just enough to rouse her; no luck. If she did more than that she was afraid of robbing her of her sleep, or waking her up in a bad mood that might persist for the remainder of the day. Or worse: waking her up and embarrassing her, which she didn't want to do, either.

Then again… she couldn't pretend some part of the reason she didn't wake her was interest. What was it like to touch her directly? Not just petting along it with one finger for half a second — or through underwear and a long t-shirt; she already knew what that felt like, given that she had been dealing with the sensation for about fifteen minutes by now.

The worst part was how her own body was reacting. At first, she was just nervous and maybe a little creeped out, even though her curiosity was always there. But by now… she felt her heart pounding, throat dry, and tingles in places she had rarely felt tingles before. All thanks to a rigid little monster hiding in her girlfriend's panties.

"Wakey-wakey, Ebi-chaaaan," she whispered to the figure slumbering against her side. She really did look so sweet there. So pretty… she wanted to kiss her again. But that wasn't okay! She was asleep. Even though she knew it was a relatively harmless thing to do, she still didn't feel quite right about it.

Maybe she should try to slide out from under her. Yes, that sounded like a much safer idea. Nobody would feel like they had been violated this way. So little by little, she began to inch away from her, keeping her eyes on Ai's flawless features…

"Nnnhh…"

"Hey!" Rise squeaked when the sleeping girl redoubled her grip on her. Shit! She bit her lip, trying to ignore how much closer to a certain area that firm presence was now. Could she find no relief from this personal hell?!

This was supposed to be Narukami. Oh, she had dreamed many times about waking up beside him, letting him see a glimpse of a sexy shoulder before she pulled her kimono on and went to get breakfast. Sometimes, he dragged her back to bed, began to ravage her with kisses. And sometimes…

Well, no, she didn't really imagine sex. That part wasn't as integral to her fantasies; she just wanted to enjoy the physical and emotional intimacy. The act itself might be fun but she wasn't as concerned with that. But from time to time, she did imagine Yu kissing all over her neck, or-

OH NO. Now she was even more tingly and right up against the thing that had instigated these tingles in the first place. This was getting bad! Ai was groaning a little from all the movement but not quite rousing from her slumber. So she was still stuck fast.

"Ebihara, please," she hissed, pushing at her shoulders slightly. The noises got louder. "Hey! Are you in there, somewhere?!"

"Mhhh?" she asked as her hips began to grind a little — and Rise could swear she was seeing stars. This was awakening her body for the first time and she was just starting to wish that this wouldn't stop. "Who… wha?"

When Ai's eyes slit open and she saw Rise was beneath her, she blinked a few times. Rise gulped and grimaced. Then the teen queen began to frown down at her pop star girlfriend as she struggled to come up with a proper greeting.

"Oh. I uh… good… morning?"

                                                                To Be Continued…

[charlieweasleyxmc]

Because I Know You

The yelling filled the room, a dull ache at (Y/N)’s temples as she tried to catch everything everyone was saying.

It was good they had found somewhere besides the library to meet tonight because Madam Pince might have actually cursed them if they had reached the decibels they were reaching in her library.

As it was, the empty classroom had been dark and eerily quiet before they had invaded it.

“We can’t just stop!” Penny trilled, raising her voice to be heard above Bill, Barnaby, and Rowan. “My sister is in one of those portraits. If we stop now, she never gets out and she might actually become a real painting forever!”

“I’m just saying!” Rowan interjected again, “there is no guarantee Peeves even has the portrait! We can’t all go risk getting expelled over a hunch!”

Penny glared at Rowan.

“It’s not just risking getting expelled!” Barnaby said, “If any of us go into a cursed vault again, we would be risking our lives! Ben’s been cursed! Rowan and Bill have nearly died! All of us have been hurt at one point or another!”

“What other choice do we have?” Bill said, a little quieter than the others, “we have to break the curse on the vaults. We have to risk our lives.”

“No,” (Y/N) stood, her head throbbing, her tight lips tired, “no, you don’t.” She looked around at each of them, Bill, Barnaby, Rowan, Penny, Ben, Tonks, Jae, Tulip, Diego…Charlie. She couldn’t risk any of them. “None of you are risking your lives. We are done.”

And with that, she darted from the room.

She could barely see past the tears streaming from her face, the water making everything blurry as she scrambled through the corridors, past several classrooms, and down a set of stairs.

Her legs started to get tired beneath her, the running not helping, but wearying her and she stumbled, almost falling headfirst down the stairs, before she caught herself, pulling to a stop.

The dull thump of her falling echoed in her ears as (Y/N) fumbled to sit on the stone steps.

She couldn’t do it anymore. It all felt like a weight, like a pressure on her that she couldn’t stand, that she wanted to just throw off, but couldn’t get her hands beneath.

The darkness was closing in again. She felt it. It was feeding off of the continued absence of her brother, off of every injury her friends sustained because of her, the school sustained because of her. She knew it would keep coming. It would overwhelm her. She naturally blocked it and let the numbness start instead.

She wanted to leave everything behind. It was too hard. She couldn’t be what everyone wanted her to be. She couldn’t even be everything that she herself wanted her to be.

But she heard a dull thump beside her as someone sat down next to her on the cold stone steps.

Charlie had followed her.

Of course, he always did.

He stayed beside her, not saying anything, not demanding her to look at him or do anything or smile to make him feel like she was okay. He just sat.

She kept her palms pressed tightly to her forehead, crouched down and then eventually leaned sideways, falling into the wall, her palm still pressed into her tears.

She couldn’t face him or anyone right now.

She felt a gentle pressure as his hand touched her arm and then she felt his head press into her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “we’ll find him.”

A sob escaped her.

“I ca-ca-can’t do it, Charlie. I can’t do it anymore.”

He stopped, his tender rubbing of her arm freezing, not responding immediately, but pondering her words and his, as he always did, “that girl I met last year was no quitter,” he finally said softly.

“That girl was a fool,” she said finally, looking up at him, into his eyes, eyes that shone like fire. “She was a fool to think that she could do this, that she could waltz into Hogwarts and tear down every cursed vault. She was a fool to think that she could save her brother. The Great (Y/N) Tonks! Master Curse-breaker and Hogwarts Hero! Everything she did was for herself and she was kidding herself if she thought it was for anybody else. She tried and tried again, but the only thing she’s done is endanger the lives of those she cares about. She failed.” Her pain echoed in her gaze, almost pleading him to understand that she couldn’t go on, “I failed, Charlie.”

He watched her, his eyes contemplating.

Then, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “You don’t need to go on. We, your friends, will care for you no matter what you decide to do.”

“All I’ve done has hurt my friends.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

She didn’t answer, her head still pressed into her hand and the wall.

“(Y/N), we didn’t do all this because you somehow forced us to do it. We would follow you anywhere because we care about you. We endanger ourselves, not you. Don’t take that choice away from us and make it your fault.”

The tears fell and she barely managed to push her final words out, the words that had been haunting her, “Hogwarts would have been better off without me, without me causing problems with the Cursed Vaults.” Then she was gone completely, heaving in and out as she balled onto her hand and the wall.

Her hand was so pressed into her head that she didn’t see it, but only felt it when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently away from the wall to lean back into him instead, moving his arm to press her head lightly into his shoulder, her tears falling onto his sweater.

Her sobs wracked her, shaking her against him as he held her.

“I’m here,” he spoke low and softly, and then again, “I’m here. I’m here,” calm, assuring, gentle.

He didn’t move excessively or distract from her crying. He only held her, sure and stable. The minutes ticked by, slowly dragging on as her sobs quieted and then picked up again.

They had quieted again. Her wracking sobs turning to stillness, but he didn’t loosen his grip, didn’t invite her to move from him.

When his voice came. It was slow and soothing.

“The Cursed Vaults were not placed here by you, (Y/N),” he said. “You did not attack any of your friends. You did not hurt anyone. Don’t place the blame on yourself.” He sucked in a breath, “Hogwarts is dangerous at times. The Cursed Vaults are dangerous.” She felt it as he breathed in, her body still resting against his chest. “You are not worse because you try to fight them. Hogwarts is not worse because of your efforts to protect. It flows the other direction. We are safer, your friends, the school, because of you. We are better because of you.”

He leaned down to look at her and moved away just enough so she could look up at him too, “we are better because of you,” he repeated, his tone urging her to understand and believe his words.

She hiccupped.

“Stop fighting the Cursed Vaults if you wish,” he said. “Stop trying to find your brother. Stop going to your bloody classes if you want!” His voice picked up now, urgent as he took her in, still held in his arms, though the distance between them allowed him to watch her face, and her, his. “I don’t care!” he said, looking deep at her. “You could stop doing magic and I would be right there beside you, but don’t you dare for one moment stop feeling. Don’t stop being that girl who stands up every day and has the courage to be herself because I don’t want to lose that girl,” his voice cracked on the last words.

“I’m not standing up right now,” she said weakly, “I’ve fallen and I’m afraid that if I get back up again, it won’t change anything. I’m either the girl who is too stupid to realize she’s on the ground or the girl who wilts beneath it all.”

Charlie braced his hand behind her, “I only see one girl here and that is a girl who is standing up,” he lifted her easily off the ground with him as he rose to his feet, and despite everything, she couldn’t retract the small bubbling laugh that fell from her lips.

He set her down on her feet gently and she caught a wisp of his smile as he shifted back a step. She stared at him and he bowed his head, his cheeks turning red.

“It’s all going to be okay, (Y/N). I promise.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

He looked back up, “how do I know what? That it’s going to be okay?”

She nodded.

He smiled, a crooked smile with just one side of his mouth lifting up, “because I know you.”

Her breath caught and her nose twinged as another onslaught of tears seemed to threaten.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words fell out.

“What?” he finally said, a crooked smile gracing the corner of his lips.

“I just…I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He stared at her for a moment, the smile frozen on his face. And then the other side of his lips rose, then both sides rose higher, and then he was smiling at her, that bright smile, that stable and sure smile.

She felt a smile grace her own lips.

“Come on,” he said, still grinning as he grabbed her hand, “let’s leave them to it and go for a broom flight.”

She opened her mouth to protest verbally, but was surprised when her body allowed him to pull her down the hall. He was leading her to one of the exits of the castle to the quidditch field; she could tell. The corridors blurred past and at one point, he glanced back at her while they ran, his eyes searching her face and she opened her mouth to say something to him when he tripped.

Missing a step while he was looking back, he was sent tumbling end over end, rolling across the stone floor. He came to a stop abruptly and stared up at her, bewildered, his back on the ground.

Against all odds, a laugh bubbled out of her, loud.

He grinned, then laughed back. Their laughs like a chorus together until she pulled him to his feet and they ran again, this time side by side towards the moonlit field.

Check out this incredible art at “CharliexMC sittin’ in a tree”!

https://charliesmc.tumblr.com/post/182699903115/dont-worry/amp

[userarchive]

Unexpected Circumstances Ch 4

Warnings: Language, talk of SVU related things

Olivia had given you a couple files from one of the squad’s newest cases asking for specific warrants from the D.A.’s office, it wasn’t your case, but Fin and Kat were both still out dealing with other suspects. Amanda gave you a nod, clarifying that she knew you could handle it yourself before you headed out, maybe you could use the time to get a few words in with Carisi. On the way over you briefly stopped to grab a cup of coffee and a pastry before you headed into the building. You quickly found the new A.D.A’s office, among the other new kids on the block. You smiled softly approaching his desk, dropping the coffee onto it.

“Peace offering?” You muttered, leaning against the side of his desk, those baby blues looked up at you, a smile on his cheeks, he was happy to find you without your partner for once.

“Nice throwback.” Sonny replied, taking the coffee from you, lightly moaning as the beverage hit his throat, thankful for the caffeine boost, he had a few hours to go, and was more than happy to finally see you at his office. His comment went back to the first time you met, those daily coffee meets that got you both out of your shells as you got to knew each other outside each other’s precincts. You watched his face change, glad to finally see him truly smile at you, you found your hand reaching out to his free one, stroking it oh so briefly before you leaned back,

“I do have to admit, I’m here under preconceived notions,” You pulled the files from your bag, “We need warrants…cell phones, computers, full apartment.” The file landed on Sonny’s desk, you paused slightly, looking those steely blues directly, “Sorry Sonny.” He looked back up at you, seeing the apologies written in your eyes, he smiled softly, discreetly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb, the electrified energy surging from the touch into both of you. This moment (mainly) alone no matter how small was still helping things build back up, the feelings were still there, you just had to start unscrambling all the wires. “They’re for Fin and Kat,” You added, “Who are still out with another suspect, so you don’t have to worry about rushing them too much.” Reluctantly, Carisi pulled his hand away from yours, leafing through the file, 

“Looks like it’ll be an easy sign anyways,” He paused for a moment noticing you push off the desk to stand upright, letting out a breath, he amped up his courage, standing and grasping your elbow lightly pulling you back to face him, “Hey…if I remember correctly, coffee was step 1, drinks were step 2, right?” He rubbed the back of his neck while you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Can I buy ya a drink tonight?” Sonny felt his face flush, looking away missing you beaming at him, “There’s a place halfway between here and the precinct?” He was still unsure he was making the right call, worried you’d turn him down, or would have to work late.

“That sounds great Dominick.” His eyes shot to yours, softening as he took in your smile, “Text me before you drop off the warrants so I can think up some kind of excuse for Rollins?” He nodded, you gave his arm a squeeze before leaving the office.

***

You phone buzzed about 10 minutes after Carisi left the precinct, quickly checking it, you glanced up at Amanda,

“Hey, you okay if I duck out early, I’ve-“ You barely finished you sentence before Rollins waved you off, 

“Yeah, do what you need to, we’ve got each other’s back’s okay?” You smiled at her, throwing your things into your bag before you made you way out of the squad room. True to Sonny’s word the bar was practically halfway between the precinct and the DA’s office, you spotted him in a booth halfway through the bar, a glass of wine he sipped on and one left untouched for you. You pulled your coat off before sliding into the booth smiling at the man across from you, your heart felt like it was beating a million beats a minute, as if it was your first date all over again.

“Hope you still drink red.” He smiled across at you, he’d been feeling apprehensive about tonight, but knew that once you agreed to it that there was a high chance you were on the same page. 

“Always,” You brought the glass to your lips, humming in satisfaction as you swallowed the liquid down, eyes closing in appreciation briefly, “Cab?” You smiled across at Sonny,

“Of course.” He smiled at you as you placed your glass down on the table, your hand leaving itself solo, reached across the table, fingers playing with each other, teasing him to make the first touch you were dying for. “How’re ya adjusting?” Carisi decided to start small, knowing you’d been under for so long, even a short UC case involved a lot of normalizing. 

“Surprisingly well.” You took another sip of wine, “It was a long time under, but I had some breaks….every time the ring got busted there was 6 months of pretending to be normal before the three of us got back together. Sometimes Alejandro would take me with him to some hidden corner of the globe, sometimes I was on my own, it just depended on the bust.” You noticed Sonny’s brows furrowed slightly, you quirked a brow at that, which he noticed, giving out a huff of breath.

“You said you never did anything you…didn’t want….while under.” He paused slightly, “Did Alejandro ever…do anything to ya? Whether you wanted it or not?” You gained eye contact with him, you could see the slight shimmer of tears in his eyes, the same reflecting in yours, boring back against his baby blues.

“Dominick…”You started, your hand flipped over palm up, his hand instinctively reached for it, stroking your palm softly. “I swear to you, there was nothing sexual or romantic between Alejandro and I,” His hand tightened around yours, “I’ll be honest…we kissed, we shared a bed, but absolutely nothing past either of those points ever happened. I made a promise Sonny, in front of God to be completely faithful to you, and I wasn’t ready to break that…”You trailed off, Sonny dropped his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Soph…”His voice shook the slightest bit, you dropped his hand, moving to his chin, moving his chin upwards so he would face you, 

“Sonny…you thought I was dead…for 7 years…you can’t be at fault for anything that happened during that time frame.” You stroked his cheek gently, “Baby please don’t blame yourself for anything that happened.” His chest clenched at the use of the pet name, leaning into the palm of yours against his cheek.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I shoulda realized when they wouldn’t show me your body, hell they didn’t even give you a proper police funeral…” He ducked his head, you grabbed his free hand, squeezing it tightly, 

“Sonny…don’t be sorry okay, this whole thing is insanely complicated, neither of us had any idea it was going to end up like this. Things got crazy before we could even realize they were happening. I’m the one who should be sorry.” You squeezed his arm gently, “What’d’ya say to moving forward?” You braced yourself as his steely blues met your eyes, he smiled brightly at you, 

“I think that sounds great.” He raised your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently, “You look great by the way.” You flushed at that, laughing softly, 

“Thanks Sonny…” You trailed off before ordering another round of drinks…

***

It had been a few more hours of Sonny and you re-getting to know each other,  apologies seemed to make their way into the conversation at a 8 minute ratio, and it was simply like riding a bike. You had so much history, and despite the years apart, you fitted together like a glove, laughing and flirting like you’d never spent a day apart. Sonny insisted on paying for the tab, despite your struggles to try and get your card to the waitress before him. 

“Will you at least let me walk ya home doll?” He flashed that adorable dopey grin at you as you left the bar, you couldn’t resist, he was just so fricking cute. Accepting his offer the two of you made you way through the streets of Manhattan your hands brushing against each other until Sonny finally grabbed yours in his, linking your fingers together. You smiled softly up at him as he pulled you closer to him, daring to brush his lips against your hair. 

It was only a few blocks before you reached your apartment, you hesitantly slowed to a stop, turning towards Sonny, your entwined hands pulling his body against yours.  His hand dropped yours as they found their way to your waist, pulling you tightly against him, your nails traced across the back of his neck, gripping the roots of his hair at the back of his neck. 

“All I ever wanted was you Sophie..” Carisi breathed against your lips,

“I know baby…” Your lips were so close to meeting his, “I never stopped missing you..It was always you Dom..” You hit your tippy toes, moving your lips to meet his beautiful ones, a kiss you never thought you’d experience again, a million emotions moving through your body. You could taste the remnants of wine on his tongue, but more importantly you could taste him. Sonny pulled you in tight, wrapping an arm even tighter around your waist, the other burying itself through your cheek into your hair, making sure you were impossibly close to him. It had simply been too long, you’d missed each other for too long, but never stopped loving each other, for a couple that was meant to be you had so much to still work through. 

He’d ploughed through so many emotions over the past 7 years, having you back in his life felt like an mirage, but having you back in his arms, lips moving against his with ease felt like a dream he was guaranteed to wake up from in a flash, finding himself alone in his cold bed, covered in a gleam of sweat and tears in his eyes. Sonny felt years of grief and anger bubble through his body, but you let out a breathy whimper against his lips, scratching the hairs at the back of his neck and it was all flattened by the love he carried for you. 

Finally you regrettably pulled away, your breath hot against Sonny’s mouth. He stroked your cheek softly, only breaking your embrace to kiss your forehead gently.

“I…I should go…” You hesitantly spoke, Carisi kissed your cheek softly, his arms stroking down your arms,

“Okay….”He dropped contact with your body, “Will you call me…please?” His eyes bore into yours. You smiled brightly, 

“Of course….” You reached up to kiss his lips softly, “Sonny….you’ll always be my number one.” His eyes bored into yours at that, smiling brightly at you, kissing your nose gently, causing you to giggle before you made your way into your building, giving his hand a final squeeze. He watched you retreat, his brain and heart clouded with emotion, there was no doubt he loved you, he knew you both had a lot to work through, and it seemed like now was the time.

[pollyannisms]

Highkey, my favourite part of Ángie's character is the shift from comfort to fear quite a few characters (understandably) have with her.

See, it starts out, usually with friendship cause she's bubbly and warm and wants to be friends. Then the cracks start to surface in her projected personality. She's never not happy. Sure, she'll get annoyed or huffy, but that's it. She never shows intense, negative emotions like anger or sadness, envy or anything. The most you'll get from her in terms of variety is dejection, a sense that she's out of it or not there, or pettiness in response to annoyance. Still, at the end of the day, she's always happy, always bubbly and patient, and it's weird, but this discovery, this is the tip of the iceberg.

When you notice these tells and flaws in her behaviour, you can't unsee it. Every time you interact with her, you start looking for the smallest tells she's upset or mad or something, anything, but you'll never find anything. You start obsessing, and her cheerfulness slowly warps to seem sinister. It makes you feel as though you're a child and she is your mom, who you know is mad at you, but pretending to be happy in front of your friends. You brace yourself for a punishment that never comes. She never changes. She's always excited to see you and friendly, even when your behaviour towards her shifts to fear and frustration. 

Now, she seems off, and you're desperate for an answer about why that is, but there's nothing concrete, no evidence. You try to talk about it with other people, but no one really believes you. To them, she can be annoying, yeah, but she's just trying to make everyone happy. She's like the class clown, except for whichever Site/Area she's assigned in. You feel like you're going crazy. No one will believe you, so you go to confront her. And she reacts, but not in the way you suspect. She blinks once, then twice and responds with concern for you, asking if you're alright. Do you want to see Dr. Glass or one of the other psychiatrists/therapists on-site? And you feel like you're going to strangle her or shit yourself. 

It's scary, she amps up the performance, and you could swear there's irritation behind the facade of sympathy and concern. Now you know you've fucked up, but no one will believe you. She doesn't let up, she doesn't show her hand, and it's all a matter of time until either you crack or get sent away from her.

It's pure psychological torture, and it's so fun to write! 

But you only get this cool dynamic with observant or otherwise dishonest characters who can sense themselves in Ángela. It's like when you pick past the surface, you will find Ángela is wearing masks, and when you see that, you can't unsee that!

But characters who take Ángela at face value and accept her kindness and helpfulness without much scrutiny view her the way she wants to be seen.

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Part 11)

SUMMARY: Something goes drastically wrong on tour, causing you, Roger and the rest of Queen to reevaluate the kind of lives you all want...

ROGER TAYLOR X READER; MODERN AU; STRICTLY 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr​​​; @sarahgurl09​​​; @sunshine112​; @biscuit-barrel​; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove​; @jhoemazzellhoe​; @justgivemethekeys​; @qweenly​; @picturepowderinabottle​

NOTES: I can’t believe I forgot to post the final part. You’re welcome!

Queen never did anything by half-measures when they toured. But, in the face of the band’s best efforts at having a good time, for you, it was all a drag; not being able to drink or let loose left you feeling more tense than ever about your… condition. 

Things finally came to a head in Denmark.

The band had hired strippers for their latest afterparty. Beautiful, blonde and leggy, wearing nothing but g-strings one might have mistaken for dental floss. 

They served drinks at the bar, which Roger swiftly necked like they were going out of fashion. He was never discreet, but when he drank, he was downright explicit.

Every glance. Every sexually-charged and cheeky exchange. All those not-so-subtle touches.

They all amped up that gnawing anxious feeling of anxiety inside you. And depleted your self worth. 

And you couldn’t stop it from showing with a sour scowl plastered across your face.

Roger was none the wiser though – in fact, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Drinking and dancing until two in the morning. The night was so enthralling for Queen and their cronies that no one dared to leave.

But a pang of disappointment edged through you. No one except Roger knew about the baby. And even he didn’t care that you were still up and out at this time; dead on your feet, exhausted and growing antsier with Roger’s antics. He was in the middle of a scorching rendition of Danger Zone when you marched on to the glowing dance floor and yanked Roger away. 

His friends mocked but this wasn’t a joke. 

You felt like you could cry. 

But not in front of all those people. 

They probably thought you were batty enough. 

So you frogmarched him out of the club. Into the lobby.

Roger looked bewildered, widening his eyes and shrugging. “What’s all this for?”

“This isn’t good for the baby,” you said. You could barely contain the tears.

Roger moved closer to you in an effort to conceal your tiff from the revellers in the lobby. “You’re the one that’s pregnant. And I told you you could stay at the hotel,” Roger said in a hushed tone. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your forehead. He reeked of whisky and cigarettes, and it made your stomach churn. “I’m gonna get you a cab back to the hotel.”

“But I want you with me.”

Roger sighed. “I don’t know how long we’re gonna be able to do this, me and the guys. Can’t you just let me stay out tonight and I’ll spend tomorrow night with you and Bump?”

“Something just doesn’t feel right. I don’t like this.”

“What?”

“I can see the way you’re looking at those… those… tarts! And I don’t fucking trust you one little bit.”

Roger backed away from you, rolling your eyes. He spoke quietly, evenly. “You’re being completely unreasonable.”

“And you’re being a complete prick. You’ve got form for this, and you’re doing nothing to help me here. Goodnight.” 

It was early summer in Copenhagen. The sun was beginning to form orange and red wisps over the cityscape and yet a chill lingered enough to send your breath puffing out in grey wisps. The streets were deserted, though. That much worked in your benefit.

You got back to the hotel in five minutes flat and the car didn’t even have to stop at any red lights. 

Arriving back at your suite, you shrugged off your clothes and lifted your set of pyjamas from the foot of the bed. Flicking the switch in the bathroom, you recoiled in horror as your reflection stared back at you like a zombie. Foundation had creased and pooled in all the recently formed wrinkles around your mouth and eyes, and pregnancy played havoc with the dark circles underneath your eyes making them blindingly obvious. You were a mess and you probably wouldn’t have blamed Roger for shacking up with one of the strippers. 

But he was yours. 

You resigned yourself to another bout of tears as you pulled on your pyjamas. 

Then you went to bed.

You woke up as daylight shone in all its glory into the room. Roger lay face down beside you, snoring away with a thread of drool dripping from his mouth. 

But something didn’t sit right. 

You rolled over to nestle into Roger’s back for some semblance of comfort, but a sharp, stabbing pain sliced through your back. 

The mattress underneath you felt wet. Panic gripped you as you forced your hand down to pat it. Your heart raced. Soon enough, you were on your feet, looking down at the pool blood reaching out across the lower half of the bed. 

You looked down, at your legs. Drenched, sopping, covered in stripes of crimson.  

You cried out in horror, hobbling into the bathroom through the pain. Sobbing your heart out, you closed the door and sank to the floor. This wasn’t how you had planned it. Not one single bit.

Still seething at Roger, your mind meandered from shock and panic, to relief. A glorious feeling. Like you had just dodged the biggest bullet of your life.

Your relationship was on shaky ground, that much was clear from your argument last night. So perhaps this was the right thing to happen? Maybe you deserved to lose your baby for taking so much of a gamble with your own life as well as the one inside you? 

For placing so much faith in him.

But that didn’t stop you from crying until your body was worn out and you couldn’t cry any longer. 

Like a vignette of a nightmare, you passed out again. Exhausted and spent from everything your body had been through in such a short space of time.

You woke up again to Roger looking at you. The room behind him was blurred and the harshness of the light felt like it flamed out your retinas; you couldn’t focus on anything. But his eyes were in perfect focus. Deep, glassy and harbouring all the concern they usually did. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he held your head upright.

“Look at me, darling. Are you ok?” he asked.

He still reeked of booze. The stench was so strong that whatever was in your empty stomach rushed up your oesophagus, causing you to lurch forward, searching for something to dump the load of bile into. 

Thankfully, you found the toilet. 

Roger scooped your hair up and rubbed your back as you coughed and spluttered into the bowl.

This was normal. 

Your body hadn’t got the memo that it was no longer harbouring a tiny little passenger in your belly yet.

“That’s it,” Roger soothed, patting your back to get everything up, “It’s ok. It’s ok, darling.”

You held out your arm to brace yourself on the seat with your head in the bowl. The acrid smell and the yellow streaks swimming in the water beneath you coaxed another surge of sick from your gut. You weren’t sure your stomach had anything left in it. But your abdomen contracted, squeezing every last drop out of you like an empty tube of toothpaste.

And when it was over, you collapsed back. Drops of bile clung to your mouth and your chin, but you didn’t have the energy to lift your arms to clean yourself up.

Luckily, Roger was there, swiping a wad of loo roll over your face. He grabbed another and cleaned the tear tracks from your cheeks. He never said a word as you tried to come to terms with everything that happened. 

Roger rallied round without saying a word. He stumbled to his feet and began to fill the tub, pouring in the bubbles and salts that he kept just for soothing his bones and his muscles after a show. His own jeans and the bottom of his t shirt were stained with your blood too. You could see him convulsing every now and again, fighting himself to stifle his own tears and be strong, while you cowered in the corner of the bathroom. Legs tucked tightly against your chest. Still covered in blood yourself.

You didn’t dare to peer out into the room. You imagined it looked like something from a Stephen King novel. You couldn’t look.

When the bath was run and steam hung heavy in the air, Roger stretched out his trembling hands to help you to your feet. His face was solemn as he slipped your shirt over your head, and your shorts down your legs. He sat on the edge of the clean white tub and watched as you stepped in. He made it just how you liked it. Scolding. Perfect for washing all of this muck off your body.

He didn’t even say a word as he took a washcloth to you.

The blood had travelled everywhere. Even on to your arms making it seem like you had lost far more blood than you actually did.

He was gentle as he washed it all away in soft, lavender scented lathers.

You could hear his sniffs from behind you, but you just didn’t seem to have any more tears to give to the thought. Traumatised and stunned to silence, you just sat there as Roger meticulously bathed you. Absolving you of the duty of being a mother for now at least.

When bath time was over and the blanket of white, frothy bubbles was streaked a ferrous orange, Roger led you out of the tub. He gave you a hand out and wrapped his robe around you. He hadn’t even hugged you yet. This was in lieu of a hug, you thought, pulling the collar up around your nose. You couldn’t communicate this to him, not through words. Not right now.

When you were clothed and Roger had called the cleaning crew, Roger led you down into a waiting car bound for the hospital. You went into autopilot. What were they going to do? Confirm your worst suspicions that you were too highly strung to go through with having a kid? You didn’t have the brain space to take it in. Grief and guilt and shock took all of that.

Nevertheless, Roger stuck by your side all day. You never talked. But he was there, always present with his arm around you, or taking your hand to kiss it. Kissing it better. 

Fat lot of good that did. What you needed was to talk to him. 

There was still so much on your mind from the night before. 

But you couldn’t.

Like a needle being pulled off a record, the worst day of your life collapsed around you when someone noticed. 

Freddie.

In the dressing room before another sold out show in Copenhagen, still bleeding the rest of your pregnancy away, you didn’t have the strength to talk or join in with everyone else’s jokes. Neither did Roger. He sat beside you, shielding you from everything that went on with hugs and kisses and not much else. 

Before Freddie drunkenly made his observation.

“You two look like you’ve been to a bloody funeral! Come and have a drink!” he said, holding up a glass with three measures of vodka swimming in it. “Come on! Both of you.”

“Fred, not now,” Roger mumbled, rubbing your shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be such a pair of bores.”

You and Roger got to your feet at the same time. But you were quickest to reach the door. You had to get out otherwise, you might have found yourself crying, or even worse, screaming at Roger’s bandmates like a madwoman. You raced down the corridor, leaving Roger behind in the dressing room with the eyes of all his bandmates, their road crew and their spouses on him. And he was seething. 

“You shut the fuck up, Fred,” he hissed, jabbing his finger in the direction of his best friend. “She’s had the day from hell and you’re all sitting around like…” he trailed off, throwing his arms out to discard the rest of his point.

You were outside, sitting on a wall at the bounds of the venue when Roger finally caught up with you. He grabbed your shoulders and plonked himself down beside you. You both stared down at the scores of people streaming into the stadium.

“They’re all here to see you,” you said, suffocating under the weight of your perceived unimportance. “I never thought all this would happen when I met you.”

“You deserve better.”

You nodded and leaned your head against Roger’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. “This touring. It’s poisonous. And it just seems to drag out the worst in everyone… Except maybe Deacy and Veronica. How do they do it?” you pondered.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this forever. It’s already cost me so much today.”

“Yeah. And you can’t be a responsible parent when you’re frolicking with strippers at one in the morning. It’s probably all over the ‘gram by now.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I know you are,” you sighed.

“Are we going to be ok?”

“I hope so.”

“I think I’m going to quit tomorrow…”

The morning after the show, Roger sat at the top of the breakfast table, surrounded by his bandmates and their spouses. You could feel the nervous energy radiating from him like a hydrogen bomb prepped for detonation as he cut his sausages and his toast and his eggs and pushed them around the plate in front of him, unable to eat even the tiniest morsel. He was quiet, listening to the dull thrum of conversation around the table, but every time you looked at him, his shoulders were squared off and his jaw was clenched, full of resolve. 

Once Roger Taylor’s mind was made up about something, it was difficult to sway him.

When breakfast was over and everyone stood up to make their way out to the bus, Roger sprang into action. His eyes were wide and he moved with a purposeful jaggedness as he stood up and nearly knocked over his chair. “Wait, everyone. Can you all sit down again for a second?”

Jim, the band’s manager narrowed his eyes. “We’ve got to catch a ferry in a few hours, Roger. Make it quick.”

Roger shot Jim the filthiest look, before whipping his gaze around his friends. Not wanting to antagonise an already antsy Roger, everyone sank back into their seats as Roger braced himself to make his big announcement.

They eyed him expectedly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stalled a few times. Eventually, he leaned forward and chugged the last of his morning coffee; it seemingly spurred him on to make his admission. “We’ve had a horrible few days,” Roger began, nodding at you and taking your hand. “And it’s put a lot of things into perspective for me. This isn’t sustainable. This lifestyle. And it’s causing us so much stress that we don’t even know if we’ll be able to go on and have the kind of life we want if I’m still in Queen and still continuing to do this.”

Everyone around the table exchanged bewildered glances, the gravity of the situation descending on the table like a wrecking ball. Roger was always the keenest member of Queen – the one that strived for the fame and the fortune, the girls and the parties. And now, here he was, thinking of jacking it all in. Freddie remained uncharacteristically silent, sinking into himself. Brian studied Roger carefully from the opposite end of the table. But it was Deacy who uttered the first reaction. “What does all this mean, Roger?” he asked, wanting to get straight to the heart of the issue.

“It means I can’t keep touring if we’re going to settle down. We’re not ok with this, bringing a kid into this.”

Veronica sat next to Deacy, nodding. She never said much in these situations, but she was a strong, principled woman, who ran their marriage like a tightly crewed ship. You respected her. And you wanted to hear her opinion.

“It’s been like this for years,” Veronica said. “John’s only kept going with it because he thought you all wanted to keep doing this until you’re old. He’s too loyal to leave you.”

“There’s bound to be a way out of this that makes us all happy,” Brian said.

“And anyway, I’m getting on a bit now. People aren’t going to keep paying to see four ageing queens prancing around in ladies’ blouses for much longer, are they?” Freddie said, batting his hand in the air with his usual flamboyance. “But I’m shocked at you, Rog. What’s happened that you’re wanting to pack it all in? For a woman, no less.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Because,” you began, “when the tour kicked off, Roger and I were expecting.”

The band erupted into congratulatory chatter. Their partners didn’t. They all wore solemn expressions, like they just knew what had happened, and they were sharing your pain.

“I don’t know why you’re all fucking congratulating us,” Roger sneered. “We’re not anymore.”

“It’s not their fault, Roger,” you said, tapping him on the arm.

Roger bowed his head and clasped his hands together on the table. “It’s just been a rough couple of days,” he said, looking at you. “I should’ve been there when everything happened and I’m never going to forgive myself for that. That’s why I need out.”

His bandmates nodded in agreement as their spouses gave you apologetic looks. Somewhere deep down, they probably felt the same way as you. They were technically complete strangers to you, but you knew they probably harboured stories of their own about the toll a full-on touring schedule took on their relationships.

“We completely understand,” Anita said, reaching across the table to take your hand. “And if you ever need anything, we’ve all got you, darling.” She was so kind, she had the kindest eyes.

But it was that offer, that show of solidarity, coupled with them finally knowing what had happened between you and Roger the other night, that pulled tears from you yet again. You had lost count of how many times this had happened, alone and in Roger’s company; it was humiliating enough for a proud soul like you. But this was the worst even though they meant well.

Freddie piped up. “I know what we need to do,” he said, making everyone turn around to look at him in one of those ‘here we go again’ kind of moments.

“What are you saying, Fred?” Deacy asked. 

“We don’t have to break up,” he said.

Brian widened his eyes. “We kind of do at this point, Jesus christ, Fred.”

“We just don’t have to tour anymore.”

Brian was just about to open his mouth to dispute that suggestion, when Roger held up his hand to halt him. “I think Fred’s on to something.”

“If it means John’s home at least some of the time, it’s bound to be worth a shot, isn’t it?” Veronica said.

“Exactly,” Freddie said. “And truth be told, the cats are missing Jim and I quite terribly at the moment. So it’d be nice to not have to be parted from them for this long again. It’s just not feasible for us anymore. That and my knees are bloody killing me.”

Roger chuckled, patting your shoulder as you joined in with him through your tears. “Actually,” Roger began, “I didn’t want to say this for fear of this one thinking I’m old, but my back and my shoulders just aren’t the same as they used to be.”

“I think that’s a different problem, Roger,” Deacy said, winking at his bandmate.

“I’m being serious,” Roger said, now massaging his shoulders beneath his shirt. “I’m just not bouncing back from these shows at all.”

“I hate to say this, Roggie,” you said with a smile, “but I think you’re just getting on a bit.”

“What?!” Roger exclaimed, slapping your thigh. “I move like a man half my age!”

“Maybe you should stop moving like a man half your age. That might solve a lot of your problems there,” Deacy said, continuing to roast his best friend.

“I can’t bloody win here, can I?” Roger beamed, looking at you.

You shook your head, mouthing a small ‘nope’ his way.

Roger turned his attention back to the table, focusing mainly on Jim Beach. “So are we agreed on Fred’s idea?”

Everyone nodded enthusiastically. In their minds, Queen had made more than enough money to live lavishly for the rest of their lives. But without such an intense touring schedule, they could reap all the creative and personal rewards their hearts desired. The were in agreement. Queen would just stop touring. For good.

The morning after Queen’s final show, you and Roger woke up in a heap of soft sheets at his place in Surrey. He sat up straight and stretched, and yawned like a big lazy lion. Then he looked around. This wasn’t your home in Montreux. “Never thought I’d be sleeping here again,” he laughed.

Hauling yourself up beside him, you slouched over his shoulder. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of both of you. “I don’t know, this place is quite nice,” you commented looking up at the dated green walls and the ornate gold details around the ceiling and the mirror at the dresser opposite the bed… “Needs a lick of paint.”

“Where are we gonna bring the kids up, though?” he asked.

You held up your hand and began rattling off each of Roger’s homes. “So we’ve got here…”

“Needs work.”

“We’ve got the flat in the city.”

“Too many eyeballs.”

“We’ve got the villa in Ibiza.”

“It has a sex dungeon.”

“We’ve got the villa in… Italy… which you just bought.”

“I’ll get fat with all that wine and good food and no exercise.”

“LA?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“So that leaves Montreux,” you concluded. “We’re going to bring the babies up in Montreux.”

“Of course we are.”

“We’re going to need to make one first, though.”

Roger turned to you giving a quiet laugh. “We better be quick, though, remember we’re heading over to Fred’s later.”

“I know,” you huffed, nuzzling against Roger’s neck. “How quick can you get it up?” you asked, slipping your hand underneath the sheets to brush up against Roger’s cock, earning a cheeky groan from him as he lolled his head back. “Someone’s keen.”

“Get it up and I’ll show you how keen I am.”

“It’s been ages since we’ve done this and not been in a hotel,” he mused, lying back.

You slipped your shorts down your hips and straddled Roger, tickling his stomach. “Let’s get started,” you purred, rolling your hips over his cock.

Roger’s hands brushed against your thighs as you continued to grind on him, feeling the excitement in your tummy grow. He was impatient, moving up in the hopes he’d be able to fuck you faster. But it was just no good, you wanted to savour this. To enjoy it. Having Roger all to yourself. He was no one else’s.

[skimaskkass]

Pre - Jeri (album review) (breakbit music/ROFLTRAX classics #1) (re-formated)

https://jeri.bandcamp.com/album/pre A long time ago (2014ish) I slightly helped or maybe tried to help a label called Breakbit Music. I am no Breakbit Music master but maybe I will be one day. In the meantime I can reminisce about albums that are dear (or not) to my life as a music fan and other things. One of these albums is Pre by Jeri. I had heard someone I’m in contact with make a track similar to one of the tracks on this album, though not exactly. I wondered if she knew this album and she didn’t. I mention this because I am very proud of her because this album is not just dear to my heart but makes me realize more than 99% of music I listen to how special life and musical ability is.

The opening “Seq1″  is musical chaos to me. But it is not nonsense. It sounds like nothing else I’ve ever heard. I’ve heard some orangy (an alias Jeri had used earlier) tracks before and maybe this is a distillation of that. Jeri was a king of sampling and using them at the right moments. Every time that “woo!” plays you don’t know what to do and when it jumps out of the middle of a spaced out bar. It gets sandwiched by FM sounding percussion arpeggios with even more staccato drums and snares that without intentionally listening for a pattern doesn’t seem like there is one. It’s such a free track that somehow has order sonically is face melting. Musicians should take note how to create textures with the same sounds by placing them at different spaces like they are in this track. But remember this is just the intro. The next track “Toxic People” has this Nintendo 64 sounding echoing guitar over this seasick portable game system synth. It draws you in and the drums come in. The hi-hats sound like they could be on a high quality Amon Tobin track in their modulating pitches. The drums once again phase through different pitches, sounding irregular, FM sounding. Then this really low fidelity, reamped industrial drumming runs into the mix and the song’s baseline comes in (but it’s the kind of overwhelming thing that you hear in dubstep or grime tracks that just bubbles and soaks the mix (which is also somehow trombone that seems to have the suggestion of higher frequencies which maybe is why it coats the ears in ear candy)). The drums have sped up and become isolated. It sounds like industrial influenced ‘post-techno’ or something along those lines. Before you can make that thought the drums are run through a flanger. There’s a proper bassline that comes in that would fit a Nintendo 64 game (I will bring it up a lot). It’s wild. There’s reverb slowly being filled in the mix from the seasick synth. There’s some ring-mod sounding vocal cries and the track ends. “*SHOT*”: is playing and brace yourself for a lot of notes on this track. There is this percussive kind of 8-bit/bit crushed melody that sounds has the effect of dramatic fast horror movie-like piano playing. This track also has a sea sick synth. It sounds like howling ghosts now. The bass drums come in and are replaced with a bassline and then there is a ghost acid bassline and these ghost drums that are going at a fast tempo (ghost in this instance meaning low volume). It is at this point of the album where I say if you’ve ever been a fan of madness combat’s music. Listen to this album. It’s just bassline and the drums with some cuts of high pitched spooky sounds. There are these portamento woodblock sounds in the fast drums that might have echoing delay and/or vocoder on them but regardless they are an excellent detail. The 8-bit/bit crushed sound gets panned around and sounds ring modulated now. Every loop there are two slight notes that adds to the techno spinning inferno music, yeah it is quite tribal at this point. At 1:25 a great transition sound and more vocode-y drums and then this melody that I can’t describe the sound of. It’s like a synth lunatic singing as this synth squeal keeps pitching down. The piano stuff I was suggesting now completely reveals itself at a nickelodeon-fast speed...The track just keeps changing and changing and changing a bunch of distorted sounds come in over it and the after the bass kicks up and the sounds are being swiss-cheesed by distortion. The song falls into a loop where the drums change into that fm squeak and a formant camera-shutter with light melodies taken from sounds from before and it goes back to the consistent sound it started with. Except I notice a high pitched sound in the background now. The bassline bumps back and the percussion ghosts play in the background over a synth hi hat. The track ends. “Computer”: IDM crackling drums and deep town ball bounces over quiet strings. Insane synth 1 and 2 start descending both. Then gabber kicks and noise snare that are quiet play a hell-decent march over fm pads and synths that make creature-screams. Crackle and ball bounces come back and the synths. And back to the gabber hell-on-display.“Synop”: starts with a synthesized brass sound. A quiet high pitched pinging over absolutely beautiful resonant filter sweeping snares and expected character rich kicks. Then a really long melody starts playing that sounds like it’s for a Nintendo 64 game for robots. Then this high pitched club music melody comes in that I absolutely love. And a wandering synth robot starts to sing. It sounds like abstract vocoded vocals and high pitched hotel service bell sounds. There’s a high pitched sine wave sound that tells the robot to stop. Sometimes there’s some distortion in the robot’s singing. The music stops to focus on this part. It’s tremolo and then has a finish. There’s a lot relistening this track deserves. “Kesanspor”: starts with a formant synth for alien salsa over two notes of synth strings and a winding sound that’s revving up. Then a distorted roar. This complicated pad sound that sounds like 50 laser sounds suggesting a choir and an electronic church refrain synth ‘yeah’ are added.  A strange orchestral hit is added to the dead space between string sounds. This arcade sound that is loud but distant plays. There’s some hi-hats that come by to say hello. “Opalei”: Drums start: Kick drums that don’t sound like any kick drums I’ve ever heard personally. Noise snare and a synth-y but somehow metallic sound that’s almost a ‘hyuck’. At 0:05-00:6 there is a stutter in the drums that you gotta love the glitchiness of which is in the loop. Reverb-spaced out (a processed square-wave?) synth that suggests a string section come out. There’s harmonies of this sound and a pianoish, watery synth melody dripping nice through the mix. The melody loops and the drums switch up and then the melody goes to church organ mode and also formant squeals I’ve never heard before except maybe in a Rustie track. You now notice the side-chaining bass drum that is humble but starts rocking out to the magic. This is what bedroom producer synth-rock heaven sounds like. The synths go all filtery and flittery between high and mid tones. They start to take on a liquid quality as time slips. The string section comes back with a variation on the original melody, listen to that detail at the end of the sequence. It is a beautiful gated sound. Then a strange sound sneaks in that sounds like sitar and there are strumming sounds. “M0d”: A murderous string sound and a mid-range fm synth that’s like an electric guitar riff from DOOM over a kind of timpani drum beat. You’re getting ready to murder people to this song as wood block and congas add a playful touch to the track. There’s a slight high pitched triangle (the percussion instrument) sound there. Bursts of echo-y wavy synths start to add the melody to the track. The drums are now rock drums. There’s a turntablism sound at the end of the sequence. There is a slight variation to the sequence then a major one where it scales back and adds beautiful conga sounds and blatant triangle sounding noises with dynamic sound effect rustling noises. There is a cute synth doing a little boat toy whistle (it has an almost old video game / emulating-that-sound quality) after the echo-y wavy synths get more animated, excited and dramatic. I start to notice the bottle whistle sound. This sound starts to pan through the mix when more dramatic sounds are stripped back. Then the song switches up. The synth bludgeons that were echo-y and wavy go transform into searing hot jabs. N64-sounding acid bassline comes in. The bottle whistle transforms into an ore of noise. “Smoke Gogol”: Drums pan left and right. Acid like you’ve never heard it. Melodramatic portamento synths like cartoon character swoons. A sound like someone tapping on a stage mic to test it. Phone/Ringtone sounding synths and snares pan. It gets replaced with a resampled crossfaded type sound bobbing up and down from a low tone. The drums stand out more and variations abound including the phone sound pitched down. I noticed a synth pad that was behind the portamento synths when they came back. The structure is like poetry. First it goes A B A B then C D C D and loops back again. “Thez”: It sounds like a re-amped chop of When The Levee Breaks. Re-amped to make it sound just so beautiful. There’s that odd resampled sounding synth sound that seems to be speaking and singing to us. But that’s because there is a vocal sample in the background that’s grunting in an alien language. The synth goes up and now it really is singing. There is that constant note hammering way in the background that I love to hear in things in popular music. It gets isolated and moves up and down the scale with the drums. And then a N64 guitar comes in and acid nudges panned past you like you were driving past them. The guitar goes full wonky then the resampled sounding synth comes back. It is so unique. The resampled sound isolates and I notice the string sound that has been in the background maybe awhile. And in that isolating the sound shows you how wild it is. The track regains some layers and fades out like a dying candle. “Porta���: It sounds like a fm synth became a sad siren coming to retrieve a body. The snares are like snipps. The base drum sounds like a heavy object dropping on a metal plate. There’s another guitar-y sound. The track sounds like 5th gen video game music for a bad dream. There’s formant synths that harmonize with the siren. There’s a descending sound at the end you can hear at 1:30. It sounds like percussion of some kind. “Holtz IV”: Acid bassline that has an emulated sound quality to it which makes me think of it in a 5th gen gaming console. It’s on it’s own. Then this reggae melody string instrument comes in. More re-amped drums. More video-gamey sounds, this time an organ replaces the reggae melody. The organ comes back sounding more epic, perhaps it’s been layered multiple times. You gotta love it when it stutters. This is building up to the best part of the album for me. It’s not the medieval video game melody that comes in or the marching band beat that comes after it. Or the sick bass drum that comes in the second medieval melody starts. The drums flit around shortly as tastefully as any track of druqks. The glassy synth comes in (triangle wave I believe). And it’s one final surprise. There’s a bouncy club bass drum, I suppose it’s an 808. The squelching organ comes in to dance with the glassy arpeggio. Reverb at the end of the track. I didn’t know Jeri. We never talked. I knew a fair amount of the people on Breakbit Music though. He did a live set during the record label’s virtual music festival, ‘Bit Mania’. A pioneering thing for the early 2010s for sure. I remember the label’s founder mrSimon saying when the song Toxic People played something along the lines: “This is [jeri]? This sounds too good to be him”. Just a joke and Jeri said something in response. I know that being in that chatroom together was a privilege even though I never reached out to him like a fair amount of the people on the label. I didn’t really listen to the other albums under the name Jeri or too much of the Orangy stuff (which was too good to listen to imo). When I saw the cover for Pre I was entranced. It is beautiful and the album is... I view the outstanding musical genius of this album as a distant goal of what I want or imagine others to achieve as an artist. Anyone who can approach this kind of music should feel wonderful at their ability. People who know Jeri or are fans of him know that he passed away in 2014. I know his music will live on because of its power. But only if the effort is made to share it with the world.

[valdez-and-the-argo-crew]

God!Percy fic chapter 2

Previous chapter: https://valdez-and-the-argo-crew.tumblr.com/post/190161565556/godpercy-fic-chapter-1

I woke up to the shimmering form of Annabeth standing at the foot of my bed.

“Di imortales!” I exclaimed, sitting up and pulling a shirt on.

“Rise and shine, Seaweed Brain.” She laughed. She looked more mature than I remember, although that might be because I still remember her as a 16 year old, rather than a 26 year old.

“A little warning would be great, you can’t just Iris message me out of nowhere when you know full well I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.” I pouted.

“Percy it’s like noon where you are, don’t you have like, camp duties to do?” She asked.

“Yeah probably but I haven’t slept in a hot minute, god stuff ya know? Anyways...” I shrugged. “Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m on my way over, Grover and I left Camp Jupiter yesterday. Had to stop so my pegasus could rest, but we’ll be there probably late afternoon, maybe early evening.” She said.

“Alright cool!” I smiled wide. I hadn’t seen Annabeth in person since the winter solstice, so it was good to finally be seeing her.

The iris message vision started to flicker and fade slowly. It made me kinda sad because now that I’m talking to her, it made me realize just how much I miss her.

“I got to go, but I’ll see you then, Aquaman.” She laughed.

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “Whatever you say Wise girl.”

She laughed and shook her head as the message faded to almost nothing. “Oh! By the way...you still drool when you sleep.”

With that, the Iris Message faded away completely and I was alone again, but this time with something to look foreword to.

With a very dramatic sigh, I rolled out of bed and grabbed one of my many orange shirts and tugged it over my head. I looked in the mirror I hung over my bed, and noticed my hair was an absolute disaster.

I used my Very Impressive Godly Powers to fix it, since that took absolutely no effort. Theoretically I could look however I wanted, but I chose to look like regular me aging at a regular pace. So basically I look not a day over 25.

After I finish getting ready, I grab riptide off my night stand and I head out the door to the arena. Nothing like a little sword practice in the morning to get me amped up.

I dragged out a training dummy from the shed and start hacking away at it.

I practiced on the dummy until any mortal would’ve been exhausted, but of course I hadn’t broken a sweat. I capped riptide and put the dummy back just as the conch sounded for lunch.

I wasn’t hungry but I walked to the dining hall anyways, sitting at the head table next to Chiron. I grabbed a square of ambrosia and took a bite, washing it down with nectar. Being a god had its perks, like being able to have ambrosia without consequences.

“Afternoon, Percy,” Chiron smiled warmly.

I acknowledged his greeting with a nod as I had more ambrosia.

“Always the appetite,” Chiron chuckled as I finished.

“Hey, don’t judge me I can do what I want.” I laughed. I looked out to all the campers eating and talking at the tables. There were even more campers than yesterday, since more campers keep flooding in. Most of them were claimed right as they crossed past Thalia’s tree, but a few joined Jamie in the Hermes cabin.

Speaking of Jamie, I noticed he looked left out. He was picking at his lunch and hardly talking. I frowned and got up.

“I’ll be back,” I told Chiron, walking away from the head table and over to Jamie. He noticeably perked up when he saw me.

“Percy!” He smiled widely.

“Hey buddy,” I said, standing behind him. I looked at Jacob. “Is there room for me to sit?”

“There’s plenty of room.” He smiled and gestured for me to sit.

I squeezed in next to Jamie, who, once again clung to my arm. He stopped picking at his food and started eating.

I wondered why it was, that Jamie found so much comfort in me, that allowed him to open up. He kept shoveling food down his face, until he finally washed it down with the apple juice in his goblet.

Soon lunch was over. Afternoon activities began, but I went down to the ocean to think. I stepped into the water and walked until my head was all the way under.

As always, I felt calmer here. I felt safer and protected. Thanks dad.

I looked at the passing fish, talking to a few of them as they pass by. Fish aren’t usually very intelligent so it was mostly one sided.

I tread further into the water, the silt and sand in the water swirling around my arms and legs as I walked.

It was silent down here. The only sound was the gentle waves lapping above in a mesmerizing rhythm. The pull of the undertow dragged me farther out, and I obliged, following the current out to sea.

I held out my hands and willed my godly power to flow through my hands and to the water in front of me. I created air bubbles and manipulated the water, just having a bit of fun. I’d never really had a chance to do this before, even though I could’ve done exactly what I’m doing now countless times.

When Zeus told me I was going to be assigned to camp half blood for a while, he took away some of my powers, sort of like a parental control lock (or in this case, divine uncle lock). He said that if I was to be the first god campers interacted with, I shouldn’t have all my powers, because Zeus doesn’t trust me not to loose control. I can’t even tell which camper has which god as a parent, which is unfortunate, because I could’ve helped Jamie.

I focused back on the water, willing it to become a violent raging whirlpool for about a minute, before calming it down again.

What else could I do with my powers?

I didn’t have my own domain like my dad or any of the Big Gods, so as far as I could tell my powers were just my regular Son Of Poseidon powers...but I felt more powerful.

I walked farther into the water and created little ripples of water all around me. I was like Elsa, but less ice-princess-y and more lame-god-playing-around-underwater.

Just for laughs, I made a snowman out of sand, but it quickly fell apart. I laughed and sent a wave over where it had been to dispel the sand.

I created a few more waves just to see if I could. Each one was bigger than the next, though they always fell away before reaching the shore.

I felt free. I miss being able to harness the water while fighting some giant big bad evil person or monster. But quests are reserved for demigods. Maybe I’ll go off and slay some monsters for fun.

I willed a giant wave to form. The kind that knocks you under and spins you around and you’re left directionless with salt water in your nose and mouth. I wasn’t going to let the wave loose, I just wanted to see how big and dangerous I could make a wave.

But a dumb fish distracted me and caused me to let go of the wave, causing it to head directly for Camp Half Blood.

Crap.

That wave was like 10 feet tall and fast moving.

I propelled myself foreword in the water, trying to catch up with the wave. I could tell people at camp had already noticed it, and had started to take cover.

I broke through the wave and ran to the shore, yelling at a few stray campers to get out of my way. I finally got to a good enough distance away and turned around, my hands extended, willing the wave to break apart.

The wave wasn’t listening.

It barreled towards me and the few campers who weren’t smart enough to scram.

“STOP!” I yelled at the wave, using every ounce of power I had to break the wave.

Still nothing.

I started to panic. I’d created a tidal wave that was about to destroy part of camp.

I closed my eyes and braced for the wave to hit, but it never came. Instead came the last voice I’d expected to hear.

“You have an explanation for this?”

I opened my eyes and saw a middle aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt. My dad. He didn’t look happy.

I was about to start talking but Chiron walked over, arms crossed and disappointment evident. I feel like I’m back at a parent teacher conference.

“My bad?” I said with a weak laugh.

“Percy you sent a tidal wave at your camp.” My father scolded. “Why were you making tidal waves?”

“I was just bored.” I mumbled, looking down at the sand.

“My boy, when you’re bored, you make sand castles, you talk to the local fish, you don’t destroy your camp.” Poseidon said firmly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I said, trying to look him in the eye.

I noticed a few campers starting to gather around, including Jamie.

“Perhaps we’d better take this to thenBig House,” Chiron suggested.

“I agree, though I can’t stay for long.” Poseidon nodded. Chiron and I walked to the Big House while Poseidon just teleported.

Inside, I sat on a couch, trying to take the glare of the god and centaur who were currently mad at me. It wasn’t easy.

“Tell us again what happened, Percy.” Chiron looked at me.

“I just wanted to have a little fun, and to see what I can do.” I explained.

“But you’re smart enough to know what you’re doing. Why the tidal wave?” Poseidon crossed his arms.

“I promise I never meant to send it towards camp. I was going to make the wave go away after I finished forming it but some little minnow distracted me.” I said.

“What I want to know is why you were making a wave that big.” Chiron looked at me for an answer.

I shrugged and sighed. “I miss the adrenaline of a fight, one where I can just call upon everything I have and take down a monster with my power and sword. I’ve just been here for 10 years with nothing to do.”

“But you happily agreed to train sword fighting,” Chiron said.

“And I love it, but it’s not enough. I want to just battle monsters...but all the quests go to the demigods.”

“Percy, you will have plenty of time in your life to experience fighting with all your strength. The next time a great prophecy is issued, I know we gods will have to get involved.” Poseidon said. “Be patient my son. And try to contain yourself, okay?”

“I know, I really am sorry.” I said sincerely.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between the three of us.

“Right, well I’d best be headed back to my kingdom. It was good to see both of you.” Poseidon smiled, going back to his usual warm demeanor.

“We can see you out,” Chiron said, opening the door for my dad and me.

To my surprise, someone was leaning against the porch railing, polishing her dagger absentmindedly. Just the sight of her made me completely forget about what had happened.

“Annabeth!” I smiled wide and ran forward to give her a hug. “Where’s Grover?”

“In the woods with Juniper. Talked about her the whole way back.” She laughed, and then noticed my dad behind me.

“Lord Poseidon...? What brings you here?” Annabeth asked, looking between him and Chiron. Great, my dad is going to humiliate me in front of my best friend.

“Oh nothing, there was just a mishap off the sound so I came here to assure everything was alright. Percy can tell you about it later.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, turning her head towards me. I felt myself go red so I looked away.

“Anyways, it’s good to see you seaweed brain.” Annabeth smiled.

“You too, Owl head,” I quipped back. “We were just gonna walk back to the shore. Come with?”

“I see no reason not to.” She shrugged. The four of us started walking back to the beach. We were almost there when Poseidon paused.

“While I’m here, I suppose there is one thing I need to do.” He said and turned to look at the crowd of campers that were following us. He pointed right at Jamie, and I knew what he was going to say in an instant. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.

Annabeth noticed too. I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was looking between me, Jamie and Poseidon.

The jet black, windswept hair, the sea green eyes, the fierce expression and inquisitive smile, and even though my skin tone was slightly darker than his, we both had the same beach-y tan look...

“Jamie Reed,” Poseidon smiled and beckoned him forward. “It’s nice to meet you, my son.”

A collective gasp arose from the campers who had tethered around. Poseidon put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and a sea green trident lit up above Jamie’s head. The little boy was awe struck.

Chiron stepped forward. “All hail Jamie Reed, brother to Percy, and Son of the ocean, the earth shaker; Poseidon”

[dollyllama108]

"'Orc Queen'?" Neala asked. She elected to read through the portfolio beforehand. "'Shinigami'---like the Japanese death gods?"

"Look, I've been at this since I was a little girl." Thora kept her firing-squad demeanor: she, like many interesting people, was used to answering the same questions every time she was introduced. "You do that, you start recording at fourteen, you're going to accumulate a lot of nicknames. Who likes the same stuff they did when they were fourteen, anyway?"

Rhiannon felt the need to point out that some people do hold on to some tastes from their teen years, and everyone agreed as a group that different people are different and some tastes persisted but others didn't. Rhiannon personally admitted to having nostalgia for Britney; she wasn't a snob and 'Toxic' is a good song anyway.

"Let's get back on track," said Neala---who else? "Thora, I have to ask the obvious question: why would a black metal artist want to join a group that mostly does alternative hip-hop?"

"Well," this wasn't one of the usual five questions Thora had to answer, "it looks fun. I don't know, I'm sure I can learn something by branching out, and I definitely bring something to the table. Plus I can still work on my own stuff. A little variety helps me avoid burnout."

River was still getting lost in that novella of a portfolio. "And what, in your words, do you bring to the table?"

"It hit me when I read your interview," Thora admitted. "You want power? You try being a fourteen-year-old black metal artist: my whole career is about shouting from the rooftops. I got that. You want diversity? What's more diverse than bringing in artists with different areas of expertise? You want a unique sound, why not try splicing together genres that don't usually mix? And if you want controversy, well," she scoffed, "I come with a lifetime supply."

Neala narrowed her eyes. "Why, exactly?"

"Graphic depictions of violence. Really, a bunch of prudes who like pretending nothing happens outside their little bubbles and hate when anyone draws attention to it." Thora gazed upward, remembering with a wistful sigh all the times the cops showed up in the middle of a concert. Someone threw pig's blood at her once, but she couldn't tell whether that was a protester or a fan. Climbing onto the stage was also common for both groups. "If you're okay buying from companies that send child slaves to work in the cobalt mines but you're screaming at someone with a guitar for pointing out that things like this are happening all the time, your priorities are outta whack anyway. I'm not the monster they make me out to be. I'm a person. I have a cat and everything."

"Uh-huh. Why do you keep playing if you get so much pushback?" River asked.

"Because it's hella funny." It is. Try taking the subway holding a suspicious instrument case and covered in pig's blood. "Besides, I enjoy the complexity of black metal---it's for the art, you know. I'm clearly in it for the long run."

"And what will you be playing?" Again, of course, Neala, moving things along.

"Have any of you heard of Peccatum? Their song 'The Change'?" Nope across the board. Thora tethered her guitar to the amp wall and was now tuning at a reasonable volume. "Haha. Great. Brace yourselves."

Read Venus in Retrograde Rising Catastrophe Theory splash page

[feralquirks]

missing girl himiko - finale / ch4

ch1 / ch2 / ch3

They had marked him—Number Twenty.

That was his number. His “name”—but none of them ever used their names, never used his name.

He was there for a month. He kept track—counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours he spent in the dark, counted how long the needles stayed under his skin pouring liquid into his quirkless veins, how long the electricity tore through his body, tearing his muscles to shreds then how long it took to put him back together again with the sweet and burning taste of healing quirks, just to be put back in that glowy room full of lasers and shock equipment.

But he supposed it could be worse.

After all the tests, he was put inside a room with cage doors. He hated that room. There was only one bed against the wall and a toilet in the corner, and it was dark. Always dark. But he could always see the blank-faced people outside his room, watching him like a caged animal, studying him and taking notes on whatever it was they took notes on.

It took away his humanity, he felt. It grated on his nerves.

Then one day, he was told he would be moving stations, being introduced to… others like him. Other “borderline successes.” To see if his influence would help speed up the process of their quirks manifesting and activating. They thought he would go without a fight, that his spirit was broken from the trauma they’ve shoved into his head, into his body.

They were wrong.

He screamed and kicked as he was dragged from one facility to the other, never letting up and trying so desperately to try and get away —the walls were white, so white like purity in its physical form, it blinded him. Finally, they dragged him to another room, similar to the shock room from the other facility, then he was gagged and everything went black as the vroom ’ing started up and the electricity amped up tore him from the ground under.

*+*+*+

He met the other kids a few days later—or was it the next day? Next week? He lost track—dammit, he lost track… He couldn’t understand why they all were so adamant to talking to him, trying to pry . It grated on his nerves but he felt so drained, like his head was filled with smoke and he couldn’t manage to speak much—not that he could, anyway… Or would. No, never.

He found it strikingly odd this place had a room for the kids—kids his age, and older too. Filled with books you’d find in the kids’ section of a library, and dolls and toys—it all reminded him of a daycare center. It gave him the creepiest vibes, considering the situation he was in—for the last month and who knows how much longer.

He found an old All Might doll, one covered in dust and looking seriously worse for wear, something probably made in All Might’s earlier years as a hero. The boy felt a spark of hope at the doll, grabbing it and holding it to his body. He stared at it, silently hoping that the doll could connect to the hero, find them, bring them home. Bring him home to his mom.

He missed his mom.

Tears sprung up in his eyes, hidden under his wild bangs. God, when was the last time he was allowed to shower? Clean his hair? He felt like a disgusting mess, Momma would be so disappointed he hadn’t tried to keep his hygiene up. At least fight for it. The bumps on his head squirmed at the irritation bubbling just under the surface.

Then the nosy girl from before kept pestering him, but he pointedly ignored her until—

“You like heroes?”

He froze. Then nodded.

“Is All Might your favorite?”

He turned his head, a bright eye peering at the blonde girl intensely. Another nod. A rock in his throat. Of course he was his favorite—the kid was an All Might fanatic…

They spoke for a while more, and he learned their names and their favorite heroes. Tobiko liked Gang Orca and Selkie, while Himiko was a fan of Vlad King. Orchid’s favorites were Moss and Midnight. Number Twenty would remember that.

What was perplexing was that they had asked for his name. They didn’t just call him Number Twenty… They had asked… wanted to know it…

So he told them his name.

*+*+*+

It wasn’t two days later that an explosion had rung out in the Quirk Facility. The alarm that blared through the halls was almost deafening, painting the white halls an eerie pink.

Himiko was shot awake by it, then a pain had nearly paralyzed her to the bed, sharp like a knife and spreading like fire from the base of her neck throughout her shoulders and head. She gaped and choked, body spasming with an arch on the bed and then the pain subsided, leaving her breathless where she laid sprawled.

When she caught her breath, heart still pounding in her ears, a cacophony of whispers broke into her head, driving her attention everywhere. She brought her hands up to her head, her ears, clawing as the whispers grew louder and louder, drowning out the ear splitting wails of the alarm—she thought her head might split open, and open and open and open and open and andopen andop e n an d e op en an—

Her door swung open, Mr. Yanagisawa standing at the entrance, blood dripping from one side of his face, his hand covering one of his eyes. Some of the blood looked old and dry, and yet some still dripped from between his hands.

“ You ,” he hissed, rushing into the room and grabbing the blonde’s arm roughly from her perch on her bed. “Come with me. Hurry! Don’t dawdle!”

Himiko squeaked with the touch, the whispers turning to screaming, like claws on a chalkboard trying to create music, rattling her brain and threatening to stab it—and she screamed too, tearing herself from his grip and stumbling, covering her own bloody ears again. The scientist jumped, watching her in her panic before scowling as yells from down the hall began.

“I don’t have time for this!” he shouted and grabbed her arm again, clamping over her skinny wrist tightly and yanking her forward into the hall with him. “Kurogiri! The portal! I have the girl!”

The black fog—the one who had taken her to this place in the beginning—appeared before them, golden eyes piercing. “And what of the boy? And the other children?”

“Too risky to try and find him. We don’t have time to pry him away, and the others were failures anyway. Now let me in!”

Himiko tried to fight, struggling to pry her hand out from the man’s death grip but it served as no use as he dragged himself into the portal and her with him—she screamed for him to let her go, bare heel pressing against the tile flooring, trying to stop him before she glanced down the hall and spotted the boy—

There was blood on the floor, cascading down the wall and down the boy’s dark face. His eye pierced hers, and she felt paralyzed by the look of utter terror drowning his eyes. His feet took off to her, croaking voice screaming her name, then reached his hand out toward her, and she reached for him too, their hands so close before she was engulfed by the smokey black and the boy disappeared from sight.

*+*+*+

When the alarm had sounded, the boy was startled and threw himself off the bed—huh, funny, this white-walled crazy center was more accommodating than the last place. That prison.

There were footsteps in the hallway, and he could see red pouring in from the little window in his room door. He ran to the door, peering out the window and watching in astonishment as numerous staff members stumbled through the halls, panicked. Then a booming voice: “I AM HERE!”

He almost had a heart attack at the utter relief that flooded his body, crashing down like a wave upon rocks and he felt tears running down his face, banging on the door and screaming for help.

This was it—his chance at escape—to go back home , get rid of this pain that laced his mind and brain, go back to his mother and live a normal life again—

There, he saw him: All Might, in the flesh. With his piercing smile. He let out a sob of joy, hand pressing against the window and smacking it again while jumping up and down, hoping to gain the hero’s attention. Thankfully, he saw and rushed over.

“Are you alright?!” he heard his booming voice through the steel door, and through tears, the boy nodded. All Might seemed relieved before gesturing for the boy to move aside and he did while the hero reared his arm back and punched the door into the room, a loud slam bursting from its crash against the wall. Shrapnel flew from the hinges and the door itself, like a mini explosion that he had to brace for and the boy knew he was far too close to it when he was knocked to the ground and suddenly felt pain pull at his forehead and something wet dripping down the arch of his nose, and he hissed, knowing the smell of blood.

His hand pressed against his forehead to staunch the bleeding, before he pulled himself up just as All Might entered in then rushed to his side to help him up.

“Oh, crap, were you hurt?! I apologize, my boy! Sometimes, I don’t know my own strength, haha!”

He felt like he was dreaming—he was actually… being saved by All Might. His prayers, his wishes, his desperate hopes—All Might was here…. Tears brushed down his cheeks and the hand that held All Might’s tightened and he felt like breaking. All Might moved then, lifting the boy up and racing out the door and down the hall.

“W-wait—” his voice came out with a croak, weak and terrible from not speaking for so long. Air caught in his throat and he coughed, but forced his hand to grab All Might’s white shirt and tug. He tried again. “W-wait, there’s ss-s’more—others—”

All Might stopped, about to respond when a scream echoed down the hall, and the boy squirmed from the hero’s arms, tumbling to the ground and racing toward the sound. There was blood everywhere—trailing along the hall floor and dragging against the wall and into another room after a T-hallway. Dread filled him as he slowed at the sight, freezing when he saw Himiko down the intersection on the other side of the hall, struggling from the grip of someone else.

She froze when she saw him, and he felt panicked at the position she was in, half-way through the black hole in the room, face painted in fear. Without another thought, his legs took off after her, vocal chords working double as he screeched her name, reached for her, and she reached back before the black hole consumed her and vanished into thin air.

He swallowed thickly, hands falling to his sides and feeling a sense of dread that he’s never experienced before—almost like drowning, but there were shackles on his hands and no way to stay afloat. She was right there—and she slipped from his sight like sand through his fingers. All Might caught up rather quickly, a hand on his shoulder to shaking him out of the trance he put himself into, asking if he was alright.

The boy raised his hand and shifted on his feet, gesturing to the hall where the blood leaked toward, knowing All Might would see the door and he heard the hero take a sharp inhale—the warmth of the hero’s hand on his shoulder disappeared and the sound of a door opened, another quiet gasp. The boy raised his hand and covered his eyes under his long bangs, taking deep breaths. She was right there. She was right there. They took her away—he felt his eyes pour again. The door closed.

All Might returned to his side, a hand on his shoulder again. “It’s best we keep going. I’ve got to get you out of here, kiddo.”

“...Th’ o-others…”

“Hm?”

“T-two oth’rs…Innocent… down th’ hall.”

The hero’s grip tightened just a bit on the boy and he nodded. “Don’t worry, my boy. We’ll look for them.”

He was free. So was Orchid, and Tobiko—though the latter of the two had begun to lose himself in the night, but they were safe. They were home. But Himiko was gone. Declared missing. Without a trace. And he couldn’t do anything. She was right there.

He cried terribly hard, caving into the embrace of Orchid in the hospital room, who wept with him for her missing friend and the other who had lost all recognition in his eyes.

He got to see his mom again—got to go to the doctor, got to disable his dangerous and painful quick, got to live in peace, got to keep in contact with Orchid and Tobiko.

Then three months later, with clean hair, a new haircut, and a brighter, healthier complexion, he met All Might again.

[tmr123123]

Protective packaging Market | Global Industry Trends, Segmentation, Business Opportunities & Forecast To 2030

Global Protective packaging Market was valued US$24.31 Bn in 2017 and is estimated to reach US$37.5 Bn by 2026 at a CAGR of 5.57%.

Packaging and protective packaging is intended to protect goods from loss, damage, and theft during transport, distribution, and storage. Process includes containers or wrapping that hold several items together, which provide a stable platform for transport. Used in across various areas of the supply chain, such as at the assembly line, transportation, warehouses, and order picking to withstand different static and dynamic forces. It also gives protection from climatic conditions, such as solar radiation, temperature, humidity, and precipitation.

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The global packaging and protective packaging market is segmented based on by material, by type, by application, and by region. By material segment is classified as Foam plastic, Paper, Paperboard. Types of protective packaging are Flexible, Rigid, and foam. Application is divided into food & Beverage, consumers, electronics. Region wise the market is divided into North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Middle East & Africa and Latin America.

Based on material, foam plastic segment accounted for the largest market share in terms of value, in the protective packaging market. Foam plastics are lightweight and provide thermal insulation and offer shock-dampening properties. On based on type Flexible packaging segment held the largest market share in 2016 owing to increasing preference for online shopping among consumers. Online retail channels widely use a wide range of flexible packaging products such as flexible foam, paper fills, air pillows, bubble wraps, and damage bags for filling empty spaces, wrapping, and blocking & bracing.

On the basis of regions, the protective packaging market is segmented into North America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Nordics, Asia Pacific, South America, Middle East, and Africa. The Asia Pacific region is estimated to account for the largest share among all the regions in 2017. This can be mainly attributed to the increase in demand for protective packaging in China and India coupled with the growth in the food & beverage industry in these countries. The urbanized population is shifting its preference to healthy and safe packaged foods owing to the rise in disposable incomes.

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Latin America Key Players Analysed in the Global Protective Packaging Market America LLC Max Packaging Springpack Sealed Air Corporation Protective Packaging Solutions Smurfit Kappa Group Pregis Corporation ACH Foam Technologies LLC Bayer AG Germany FP International BASF SE Germany Macfarlane Group Universal Protective Packaging Unisource Worldwide Cellofoam North America Incorporated Ecovative Design LLC.

[thelastsacriifice-blog]

@dalishcookie replied to your post: @dalishcookie replied to your post: ...

Oh welcome then :D This hell is forever, lol. At least it has been for me xD You are lucky to have missed all the drama and shitty things tbh, since fandom is pretty quiet rn. Which is to be expected since we are in between games and all, but yeah better this way than to see all the chucklefucks in it rearing their ugly heads again, ahem.

I have such a love/hate (mostly hate) relationship with the da fandom, so in times where it STFU I like it most xD I prefer to keep to my own corners either way, which is probably why I haven’t bolted out of it years ago. That and my own fic(verse) which keeps me engaged and entertained in da, since there is so much I feel the need to give the fix it fic treatment, ahem. Alistair/Fiona is just one of them, if a major one I will write a fix it for in my sequel.

I really hate how BW makes it a necessity to read non-game material to understand the whole story. Such material should always add to the story but not hide major infos in there about chars and plotlines. Aside of Fiona, the whole Orlais quest in DA:I is the worst offender of that & it is so frustrating ugh. And yeah, I currently rewrite my 900k blight fic (ofc not all of it,lol) & will start posting it on Ao3 as soon I have two chaps finished. Thx for ur kind words <3

Thank you very much =D lol I’m sure we all have that one fandom that turns to hell once you’ve been in it long enough! I do feel very lucky to have missed the shitstorm, it’s a nice change of pace from other fandoms I’m in that are still in chaos lmao Things will undoubtedly pick up again as DA4 comes around. At least I have some time to brace myself and enjoy the peace while it lasts lol

Yeah, when things are dead, that’s when it’s safe to come out from where you’ve hidden during all the drama LOL Staying out of it and in your own corner or just ssticking in a bubble of a small group of people you’ve become acquainted with is really the only way not to go crazy in any fandom. THAT AND FICS, where you create your own world to hide in lmao Fix it fics are a lifesaver tbh because Maker knows the creators won’t.

Regarding non-game material, I remember writing this in that DA survey that’s floating around, but I feel like those who even care enough about the story would even consider reading them? Especially if it deviates from one’s own canon, like Alistair being king. But if I hadn’t saw it on the wiki that Fiona was Alistair’s mother I would’ve wondered why the hell Fiona cared that much about Alistair lmao Others might’ve just shrugged it off and continued on their merry way, or would’ve been content in just wiki-ing the information, but I like knowing those things first hand, how it got there and such. I’m about halfway through Asunder and just seeing the conflict in Orlais at its start is just so interesting!

LOL yes, hopefully you’re not writing the whole 900k! Yay, I can’t wait for it! I’ll be refreshing daily, or just wait until you post its arrival on AO3 if you do that lmao