#I just don't really want to live somewhere dirty and right next to a bunch of bars

[girlscience]

screaming crying blowing up

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>11<

Hanabi sat in the front seat of a maroon Suzuki, which she and her father were going on a weekend trip to Dogo Onsen in Matsuyama. She loved their traditional "last vacation" when could relax in the hot springs in peace, sip green tea, sit in the charming garden, roughly making plans for the next year. This time it was supposed to be different. This time she had a very serious topic to think about. This time... IT WAS SERIOUS. She slept all the way, especially since they had left long before sunrise. Judging by the condition of the space around legs, her father has made more than one coffee stop. She left the car completely broken by the uncomfortable position. With great relief, she accepted the offer to take advantage of the facilities of the oldest hot springs in Japan immediately. They entered the only, tiny, co-educational swimming pool. She immersed herself in warm water that smelled of various herbs with great pleasure. Her father sat down next to.

- And another year behind us ... - he sighed, settling down more comfortably. - How's your studying for the exams going?

- As usual, Papa. Slowly towards my destination. - she replied.

- It's probably the only slow sphere of your life! - he laughed, then looked at her seriously. - And what about you and Hanayama-san? Probably good?

- Yes, good. In fact ... I wanted to talk. To ask... - she muttered, looking away.

- Oh, the Little Fox can't meet her old father's eyes? What happened?

She had no idea why was acting this way. She was very fond of Kaoru, loved spending time with him, but since he started talking about a lot of serious topics, she was like a scared pet. Her heart was beating mercilessly against the ribs, the blood was bursting the veins, she felt hot and... wet. Yes, in all this madness, complete disagreement of reaction, his proposal was EXTREMELY EXCITING. The reason was simple. Marriage meant more time for two; a time that no one could interfere with; time when she would drown in the arms of a giant bear. So why was it terrible at the very thought of a legally legalized relationship?

- Because ... I was wondering if you would allow ... a marriage. - she muttered hesitantly, then added quickly. - I mean, Kaoru proposed to me, but I haven't answered yet.

- Well, I won't cheat on you. This is not the fate I dreamed of for you, Hanabi. I was counting on you having a quiet life with a regular guy. A bunch of children, normal work and so on ... - he sighed heavily. - Nevertheless, the life I dreamed of myself has long since fallen apart, even though it was just what I wanted. Ordinary, normal. Quite.

- I don't think I understand what you're getting at.

- I just want you to be happy, darling. - he replied, smiling. - So if he gives you this happiness, you have my blessing.

More and more confusion was forming in her head. Father was right - it wasn't a life she should have led. In theory - should finish school, think about college, find a normal job, in the meantime she can meet a nice boy from a normal home, start a family with him and live to old age with a group of children and grandchildren. Well, but this idyllic vision broke when father started smuggling, mother left, she let herself be tortured in training, then to kill others for money, and somewhere on the horizon a nice guy appeared, with this that from a somewhat dark world, full of violence, blood and dirty money. Paradoxically, this man turned out to be a sweet, kind, very emotional man, incredibly honorable and truthful, supportive, gentle lover! In addition, he had the reputation of the strongest man in the entire Japanese mafia! So why was she having such a problem with the decision? Just because it's all more twisted than a pig's tail? Didn't really care about it! Such a life attracted her! So ... maybe the issue of legalizing the relationship? Luckily, she started a long break, because couldn't concentrate on the lesson. She had no idea if would come out of her way to stand beside her anyway.

- Hanabi-chan, are you okay? - heard a voice above her head.

She only noticed that was basically lying on a bench, covering her hair with arms. What's wrong with her?! DAMN IT!

- Maybe something poisoned you? You're pale ... - Junko said.

- No, that's not it. - Hanabi muttered under breath, looking at friends. - I just have a tough problem, I don't know what to do.

- Aaaaa ... boy with roses, right? - Madoka muttered conspiratorially. - Gee, he's divine!

- Well, such a "meow"! - Shiori added, sitting down on her bench. - And those scars! Hot stuff!

- Er ... yeah ... Kaoru ... - she whispered, covering her face with hands. - Recently we talked about a serious topic, a very serious one and it still bothers me!

- Hanabi! Hunk to you! - she heard Misaki's voice.

She instantly stiffened, feeling all the blood drain to her head. He came?! Impossible... what for?! He couldn't, everyone would recognize him! Or maybe... She turned slowly, swallowing a large amount of saliva. Expected a giant standing in the doorway, and instead saw a dark-haired boy of medium build. He waved her to come.

- Haga?

She wasn't expecting him. Automatically got up from the chair and, without taking her surprised eyes from him, walked over. He immediately pulled her arm to leave the building. They sat down in the stands of an empty soccer field at this hour. She looked at him searchingly. He looked completely relaxed, but his face betrayed that he hadn't come for a light, friendly chat.

- How did you get onto the school grounds? - she fired in the end.

- I have a friend who let me in. - he replied calmly, looking at her more and more searchingly. - Heard about Hanayama-san's proposal. Have you decided what to answer?

Even him! Even HIM! Seriously?! Everyone knew already ?! WHENCE?! She rested her elbows on knees, placing face in hands. She felt more and more pressure. They didn't make it easy!

- For some reason I can't... something's blocking me. - she muttered, looking away. - It is a very big responsibility, a very serious matter... I...

- I knew it. Try to take the word 'marriage' aside, huh? - he suggested, leaning back on the bench behind him. - Think about whether you just want to spend your life with Hanayama-san.

She blinked rapidly at him. Frowned. Could Haga say something wise of himself? She thought hastily. There was something about this method. Maybe actually...

- What are you looking at? If you want to stay with him, the bill is simple! - he laughed, patting her shoulder just as the bell rang. - Fly, I'm not stopping you.

- Thanks, Haga. You are a real friend... - She whispered and lightly kissed the smooth cheek.

Darkness fell. She lay down on the mat the way liked it best, across it, had an emergency bag of crisps close at hand, next to another - a can of yuzu juice and vodka - or so the label said. Funny, father always said that pure yuzu juice was flowing in her veins. She rested her legs high on the wall, looked at the calendar on it. Last Saturday before New Year's Day. Time for a small balance sheet. The start of the year wasn't extraordinary until she was commissioned by HIM. Since then, everything has happened much faster, more intense and... kind of warmer? As strange as it sounded, the term was more than appropriate. At first, she found the relationship rather an interesting adventure, not even thinking if she would get out of it later. After all, the guy's YAKUZA BOSS! But the farther into the forest ... the less she wanted to step away. She became attached. Think about it coldly, it also becomes less and less profitable. He knew too many of her secrets, explored almost every nook and cranny of her body, and found out where she kept secret supplies of crisps for a rainy day! Was it a one-sided relationship? Probably not...certainly not! Being in his company gave her a sea of joy, especially when she could become familiar with him. She loved sitting on massive thighs, hugging wide neck, stroking scarred cheeks, looking at fleshy body, touching the pleasantly rounding ABS, while listening to that sexy, low voice that made her knees soft. And she learned some of his more or less dirty secrets, they were even. He allowed her a lot, yet she felt enslaved in some way... but she wanted it. This was the kind of bondage expected. One she didn't want to run from.

Her father wished her luck. Even if he didn't approve of it, he felt she should follow her heart. He's always been like that. Of course he was worried, of course he wanted something completely different for her... but the most important thing was that she should be happy. She could go to death, but if was having fun, why not? Haga spoke similarly. And he? Kaoru didn't push. He gave her a surprisingly long time to think. Or maybe quite the opposite? Maybe that was the plan? Maybe she was going to miss him and make a decision faster? No... he wasn't like that. She looked at the clock. It was midnight. High time for a verdict. Well ... how to tell him?

>>><<<

He exaggerated a bit, could wait until she finished school. He only gave her a problem, even though she had a lot of study... but he couldn't. Usually he was patient, as even told his grandfather, but this time couldn't. Maybe if she hadn't spent these three weeks with him, it would have been easier, as he just got used to it. Woke up in the morning, saw her sweet smile, they ate breakfast together, in the evenings watched her fall asleep. So calmly, cuddling up to him like a kitten in a soft bedding. He liked it, it was exactly what he wanted - a substitute for normalcy in this fucked-up world in which he lived. The fact that wouldn't let her go is one thing, but then he openly admitted that he loved her... PUBLIC. It came out automatically, didn't think it through, finally decided it was okay. He had barely noticed her tense when at his mother's grave he asked not to leave him, and then in the bar... had the feeling that she would have run away if she could. It wasn't him, as big as a mountain mafia boss, it seemed, but the very institution of marriage and its seriousness. He did not consider such an option.

He thought Hanabi wouldn't be coming when he invited her over on Friday afternoon. She came straight from school in her uniform as if nothing had happened. They were sitting in the living room, she was basically reclining, leaning on his stomach, a Japanese book in her hand. Completely relaxed, even as he automatically started combing her long black hair.

- We're having a family New Years Eve party... - he asked. - Would you join me?

- I'd love to, Kaoru, but I always spend this day with my father. This year I care about it especially, because I have devoted really little time to him. Still only orders, learning ...

- Sure, I get it. - he muttered sadly.

She seemed to be strangely subdued, but kissed him quite naturally after all. Shortly after she left, he poured the bourbon into an glass with ice. Sat down in the leather armchair when the phone rang in his trouser pocket. He was surprised by the personalization on the screen.

- Soga-san?

- I'm sorry to call you so late, but I think the matter is important, Hanayama-san. - he heard in response. - Private...

- So I'm listening.

- Hanabi told me about your offer. I want you to know that I won't stand in your way, as long as she's safe. - Goro explained.

- Always has been and will be. - he replied truthfully.

- I believe. Besides... the New Year is coming. Hanabi is honorable, very family oriented, I suspect that, like every year, she will decide to stay with me, we will go to the city festival... she loves them since she was a child. - he told, and Kaoru listened more and more closely. - Sometimes I think she forgets that she's a big girl and doesn't have to go out with Daddy. You understand what I mean, right?

- Of course. - he said after a moment's thought. - Thank you, Soga-san.

Amazing family. Although... she had to learn it from someone, didn't she?

>>><<<

It seemed to take her longer than usual to clean the entire apartment. Even though they had been rather guests in their own home over the past few months, especially her father, it turned out that a lot of problematic things had accumulated. Lots of clothes she no longer wore, mugs from a few days ago, clouds of dust under the couches; behind the curtain in her father's room she even found crispbags and paper coffee cups in which, as she might have guessed, a civilization had emerged, slowly tracing the wheel's structure. She vacuumed it, washed it, father stubbornly washed the dishes, tidied up the garden and the tool shed, and then climbed into the attic to remove the previously prepared New Year's decorations. When everything was ready, as she did every year, she dressed in a black kimono decorated with pink and purple flowers, tied a plum obi belt, slipped her small feet into comfortable zori with ornate floral stripes on the skin. She tied her hair on the side with a pin with a pink lotus flower in it. In a pocket sewn on her sleeve, she hid a pouch. It was not particularly elegant, but practical. Her father was also waiting for in traditional clothes. They followed the crowd, straight to the temple, where they thanked them for this year and asked for favors for the next one. Yes... she asked especially... most of all, a lot of determination and self-denial. They walked around colorful stalls, under the sea glistening with the warm amber light of lanterns. They could spend a few lovely hours like an almost normal family.

- I completely forgot! - Father said. - After all, there is no New Year without New Year's mochi!

- I'll take a few, sit down and rest. - she replied cheerfully.

They passed a stall with colored balls, she remembered where to go. Every year chose the ones hadn't eaten yet, especially since the shopkeepers were eager to experiment with graceful rice cakes. This time she bet on apples roasted in cinnamon and a sugar rose, two each. Moved forward briskly, hiding the purchased cookies in a pocket in the other sleeve. She made it to where had left her father but did not find him. She looked around calmly. He sprang up suddenly, almost colliding with her. Tall, well-built, wearing dark haori and gray hakama pants. She felt her heart crash against her ribs again.

- Have you seen my father? - she asked bluntly. - We split up here.

- He came home, rest. - Hanayama replied, then gently touched her face. - You look beautiful.

- Thank you... - she muttered, blushing like a peony.

They had mocked it up, every cell in her body was telling it. She didn't know which one had come up with the initiative, but they agreed to swap places imperceptibly. Well, she wasn't going to bring it up, there was no reason to do so. Sighed deeply, then dared look into the pair of brown eyes behind the lenses of the rimless glasses again.

- I thought you would stay with your family for....

- But I'm with my family. - he interjected with a slight smile. - We're going to eat something? Maybe soba?

- I'd like to! - she said, looking around a bit.

He noticed it. Before she looked back, he was clicking the tip of her nose with the utmost delicacy.

- Silly of you. - he laughed. - We are alone.

They found a pasta stand nearby, and after a few minutes they would sit at the table and eat the best. She watched as massive, chopped paws dealt with chopsticks completely disproportionate to his size surprisingly efficiently. It can be expected that with these sizes he was an ordinary dummy, a typical elephant in a porcelain shop, and while in fact he didn't fit very well in many places, developed small motor skills surprisingly. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to check on his origami folding. She smiled. She thought she couldn't be more sure about the decision she had made, but it turned out that she was wrong. After the meal, they wandered around the area, watching the next stalls, adults and children playing among various attractions. Eventually, he offered to watch the fireworks from the hill behind the temple. She didn't even know there was a better place for this than the crowded center of the festival. The hill turned out to be a lonely cliff overlooking the Tokyo Bay. It's hard for a more beautiful New Year's scenery. She sat down on the slope, breathing deeply in the pleasant, cool scent of trees and sea. Nights can be cold, even with winter kimono on. She felt him settle behind, closing her between massive thighs. He was so warm ... He took something from behind the haori and she leaned gently on firm belly. He wrapped arms around, unscrewing the green glass bottle in front of her.

- Well, how prepared! - she laughed pearlly. - There is even Toso!

- A little toast to the success of the coming year? - he suggested.

- And you have a New Year's resolution? - she asked, pulling a box of colorful mochi out of her sleeve.

- Make you the happiest bride ... and wife. - he muttered against her ear, nibbling on a sweet pink cookie. - As far as possible of our world.

- What have you done? You shouldn't be talking! - she grunted, blushing. - Now, if something doesn't work out, I'll feel guilty...

- May not work out? - he asked, turning her face to his.

- Hmm... let's check it out! - she purred, eating the green mochi with cinnamon sprinkles and cupping his neck. - I accept the offer.

He smiled as he pulled her to him and kissed. In the sky above their heads multicolored flowers and streamers flashed with a bang, announcing the beginning of the new year. The funny thought flashed through her that she had made it on time.

She naively thought that they would separate or go to her house, because the closest, but he was ready for it. They found themselves in a hotel near the festival site. As always she had a problem with tying the kimono and taking it off, this time it went surprisingly smoothly. It didn't take long before she was completely naked in his protective arms. She could feel the skin tightening against the immorally built muscles again. She loved every curvature, every dimple, every scar. Waited eagerly to feel soft, prominent lips, and her anticipation was more than rewarded. Their tongues intertwined in a dance of love, excitement grew, she had no idea what was happening to her. She gave herself over to instincts until felt warm lips wander down the inside of her thighs.

- Kaoru, what are you... - she grunted, then sighed in spasms of pleasure.

She had never felt anything like this before. In fact, none of his caresses coincided with the other, each one brought a completely different kind of pleasure. He moved his tongue gently inside her, firmly holding her legs, and she couldn't help but scream. He didn't miss any sensitive point. He returned to her, kissing hotly. She felt as if was begging "take me!", when heard a low, sexy whisper.

- Turn around and lift your hips.

He didn't have to repeat, she obediently obeyed, and a moment later massive hands were placed on the curves to bend them slightly and push cock towards, taut like a string. The movement was so intense that she almost hugged the wall with her face. Did not expect such a power, with the next moves she involuntarily tensed arms and stretched buttocks to dig deeper and deeper. She heard increasing gasps, grunts. This and the growing penis inside her proved that he was satisfied, or at least would be. She was too, very much. She felt a pleasant tingling and tension in every part of her body, felt dizzy from the excess oxygen, moans came out of her throat by itself. Finally he grabbed her by the neck to pull her towards him, and with the other hand dove between her shapely legs. She didn't think he could do it, even though actually had long arms. He pressed harder and harder, a little slower, was clearly nearing the end. She involuntarily placed her small fingers around his buttocks, and after a while one of them offered him a bolder game with her pussy. He brought his face closer, licked her neck and bit earlobe. She felt it. She spent the last seconds sucking on his mouth. He tensed, clinging to her, giving his last thrusts back. Ecstatic groans merged into one. Tired, they lowered their heads on the pillows. She snuggled against his hot torso, gasping for breath, felt him cover her with a protective arm.

- I love you, Kaoru ... - she muttered, falling into a good sleep.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Alone at the Edge of a Universe - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You were in an accident before everything went to hell. You don't remeber how it all started. Now you live in a small apartment with a strange man who seems to be trying his best to look after you, but doesnt know how to take care of himself.

AKA: oh my god they were roommates.....Despair Edition TM

Word count: 7169 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, very mild blood/injury, panic attacks, despair era Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

There’s an explosion outside your window, and something huge tumbles to the ground. Everything in the apartment is shaking, Knick-knacks wobble and fall off the mantle, smashing on the floor, the bed frame shakes and lurches underneath you. Your fingers are digging tight into the quilt, trying to find purchase somewhere in the quake.

It is not your first collapsing building, and you fear it will not be your last. The world outside the apartment is dangerous and frightening, layers upon layers of horror folded together into the culmination of true despair. You don’t remember how it happened. It was some time ago (weeks? Months? Years?) that you woke up in a hospital, weak and emancipated, barely able to walk. You had been in some sort of accident, whatever happened to the world, started while you were still comatose and all the doctors were long gone when you finally came to. The fact that your life support was even still running was a stroke of luck.

There’s another thundering outside, but this one doesn’t make the house shake. Another building? You can't be sure, it was too far away to be of any danger to you so there is no reason to think about it. Instead you pull yourself up from the bed, bringing one foot down on the floor and being absolutely sure that there won't be any aftershocks before standing up properly. There are little broken pieces of glass and china all over the wooden floorboards, you cross the room on your tip-toes, careful to avoid any of the more dangerous looking shards. It is as you feared, your favorite knick-knack had also broken. You drop into a crouch, trying your best to gather the shattered pieces of what had once been a small glass jar full of little keepsakes.

Your housemate (if you could call him that) frequently brings back little presents from his adventures out into the fractured city. But this had been your favorite, a blue jar with a cork stopper, full of buttons, beads, marbles. Any pretty trinkets he could find for you. The shattering of this particular gift hurts something terrible, because you know it took him a very long time to collect it all. You manage to find a sturdier jar that survived the quake (it was once holding three stems of lavender, long since dead) and scoop as many of the shards and trinkets that you can inside. It isn't as pretty, but it will do for now.

He’s been gone for a week now, and you are hoping he will be back today.  

When he first brought you to the apartment, you couldn't even stand. Confused and scared about what had happened to the world during your coma, and having trouble remembering what your life was like before either. The apartment was a mess when he first found it, but there was a bed and clean sheets in a closet, so it was fine. He sat with you for hours, barely moving, just watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness, as the world finally came into focus. At first you were afraid of him, of his dishevelled appearance, trembling limbs and wide watery eyes. He never made any move to touch you, he sat there and would answer questions if you asked them, but otherwise just watched.

Once you were able to move on your own, he started heading outside for longer stretches of time. He used to just leave for a few hours each week to bring you back enough food until his next trip, but now he is often gone for days at a time. You wonder how long it will be before you can go outside with him. He is strange, but given the state of the world outside, you can’t imagine anyone else is faring much better.

You manage to salvage a decent amount of the broken trinkets and either pour them into a vacant jar or the trash and are in the middle of sweeping away any remaining shards when you hear a shaky knock on the door. He has a key, but he always knocks anyway. You let the broom drop to the ground and dash over to the door to let him in.

“Hey…” you say, pulling the door open. His red striped sweater has more holes in it than it did last you saw him, his hair curled and messy, more grey than white. His disheveled appearance means little, you are thrilled to see him, “Welcome home.”

His eyes are desperate as he looks you over, crossing the threshold of the apartment and closing the door behind him, “The quake...are you okay?”

“I stayed in bed the whole time, I’m fine.” You attempt to take his rucksack from him, to help him carry it to the kitchen. He pulls it away from you and carries it on his own, “A bunch of the gifts you brought me fell off the mantle, though. I should have been keeping them somewhere safer, I’m sorry.”

He wheezes, giggling under his breath as he starts pulling food out from the rucksack and onto the bench, “Don’t waste such sweet apologies on me. I can find more gifts if you want them.”

With you standing in the sitting room, and him unloading groceries in the kitchen. In a different time, this may have been domestic. Your heart warms at the thought, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” He doubles over with laughter, the sound is scratchy in his throat, “You could never cause me any trouble.”

He doesn’t look like he belongs in the nice clean apartment. He stands in the middle of the room, all shaking limbs and wheezy breaths, clutching his own arms like it’s the only thing still keeping him together, but you can tell he is trying, he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “you were outside when it happened”

He giggles breathlessly, gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve, “you are worried about me?” His knees shake like they're about to give out and he buzzes with manic energy, “Aha! the extent of your hope, it’s incomparable!”

You suddenly notice a line of blood running down from his forehead, curling down past his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. You rush over to him and take his face in your hands. His skin is pallid and sickly, his lips chapped and bleeding. You push his mess of dirty hair away from his forehead and gasp, “you’re really hurt, why didn't you tell me?”

He doesn’t say anything, he’s just staring at you with wet unblinking eyes as a wide smile tugs at his lips. Shuddering under the soft grip of your hands. The gash on his forehead is shallow, but blood is gushing out of it quite quickly and you aren’t really sure what to do. As you look closer at the wound, his eyes flutter shut and you feel him leaning into your palm. Your heart thunders in your chest, he’s cute under all the dirt and grime.

He cares for you a great deal, you aren't sure why. He won't even tell you his name.

“I’ll wash it out for you. Okay?” You say, taking one of his hands in yours and tugging him towards the bathroom. The one gentle tug on his hand is enough that he almost topples over, but he rights himself quickly. His hand is quivering in yours.

“Oh! You don't need to do that!” he protests, but continues obediently following after you, “I’ve dealt with much worse, aha! Don't bother dirtying your hands to fix something that will only break again.”

You grab him by the shoulders and lower him down onto the toilet seat. His big eyes peer up at you from behind the mass of hair now tumbling down over his face, he watches you with a pointed devotion that might make you uncomfortable if you weren't already used to it. He brings his sleeve up to his mouth to chew on it again, you take his hand in yours and lower it before he gets the chance, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.”

His nails dig into the meat of his thighs and he is shivering again. You can feel his legs bouncing as you lean forward to take a better look at the gash on his forehead, he whines when he feels your fingers brush his hair away from his face. You sigh at him, “You know this will get infected if you don't clean it, don't you?”

He whimpers, practically rattling as his tremors get worse, “How kind of you to notice! But I have more important matters to attend to of course.” another bout of laughter boils through him, shaking his bony shoulders,“like you, for instance!”

You drop to a crouch so you can meet his eyes, resting one hand on his shoulder and holding his hair back with the other, “You can't look after me if you’re dead.”

“Oh I won't die.” He breathes, the depths of his eyes shining with a shocking lucidity, “Not yet.”

He really believes that. You can see it on his face, “Either way. I’m going to clean it. Sit tight.”

Sitting tight is not possible. To his credit, he doesn't move on purpose, but he is still shaking intensely as he waits for you. His protruding knees knocking as his legs bounce up and down. You purse your lips and wet a cloth in the sink, the water is a little brown, but all of the water is a little brown so there isn't much you can do about it.

“Okay.” You say, turning back to him and lifting the cloth to his forehead, “Let me know if it stings too much, alright?”

He nods, smiling up at you pleasantly as you bring the cloth down on the gash. There is a lot of blood, the coppery smell is overwhelming but you try your best to seem like it isn't affecting you. If there is any pain, it doesn't seem to be bothering him, his eyes are closed again and he is leaning gently into your touch. Your heart warms for him, and the hand you are using to hold his hair out of his face starts gently scratching his scalp. You hear him gasp, but he makes no move to stop you. His hair is soft, you can feel the grit of dirt and smoke caught up in it, but under that...he is so soft. The blood running down his face is well clean by now, but you don't stop. The washcloth falls from your hand with a splat and his eyes snap open. One of your hands is buried in his hair, combing the mess through your gentle fingers, the other traces the sharp line of his jaw, all the way up to and then down his cheekbone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, you are dimly aware that his shaking has stopped. At least for now.

Your pointer finger runs up the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow, now you are the one shaking, “I...don’t know.”

“You’re touching me.” He breathes

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, “I am.” you let your hand drop, “I’m sorry. I don't know why i did that.”

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his cheek. His eyes are wild, “You can do whatever you want to me! I don't mind!”

His suggestion raises an unwarranted heat to your cheeks. You gently tug your hand from his grasp, “There’s some vodka in the cupboard. Give me a moment to disinfect you.”

You pick the cloth up off the ground and leave it on the side of the sink as you walk over to the kitchen. All of the food he brought back with him is still strewn about on the countertop, abandoned when you realised how badly hurt he was. You worry about him. Constantly. He was the one who found you half crawling, half stumbling through the desolate remains of the city mere hours after you woke up in the crumbling shell of the hospital. Since then he has been so careful of you, making sure you are well fed, bringing you gifts or clothes, anything he can find out there. He clearly doesn't extend the same olive branch to himself. You stand up on your toes to grab the alcohol from the top shelf, it was already here when he first found the apartment. Half empty. You hope whoever lived here before you had enjoyed it.

“This is going to hurt.” You warn as you step back into the bathroom. He nods loosely and you wring the cloth out as best you can before dousing it in the vodka, “Are you ready?”

“Pain or pleasure,” he starts, looking up at you with a loopy smile, “anything I feel by your hand is exhilarating.”

Oh. You liked that . It made something in the pit of your stomach twist.

You clear your throat and crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes are half lidded, and you can tell he is uncomfortably lucid. He intimidates you a little like this, there is a sharp intellect behind his big green eyes that feels like he is dissecting you with his stare alone. Even though he has stilled quite a bit, his hands are still jittering at his sides. You gently press the alcohol soaked rag to the gash in his forehead, he hisses through his smiling teeth, but the sound teeters dangerously close to being a moan. You swallow, continuing your ministrations.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You ask, purposely focussing on cleaning his wound so you don't have to meet his eyes.

“No.” He says. It doesn't sound like he’s lying.

“Okay.” You reply, “I trust you, but you can't hide these things from me. I have a duty to keep you safe, too.”

A shudder runs through him at your words and his eyes flutter shut. Like he is savoring it, “You are too generous, truly.” his voice is so breathy, and your positioning makes it sound like he is whispering in your ear. You bite your lip.

“It is not generosity.” You laugh a little, your fingers tangling in his hair again, “It’s selfishness. You are all I have and I don't want to lose you.”

He is shaking again, his long fingers grasping at nothing. Like he desperately wants to hold you but knows he can't . His arms wrap around himself instead, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he rocks back and forth, “Aha! A regular Pylades you are, looking after trash like me!”

You have long since abandoned any pretense. Not even pretending to be tending to his wound anymore, your fingers brush through his hair unhindered, “Pylades?” you ask, twisting a lock of pale hair around your index finger. Surprised with how much classic literature he’s managed to remember through all this tragedy, this is not the first time he has quoted one such piece to you.

“From Euripides!” he’s grinning now, lips curled almost painfully wide, “You need me to jog your memory, hm?” He asks, leaning forward. He is very close to you now, and your hand freezes in his hair, “Orestes says ‘it’s rotten work’ and Pylades replies-”  

Oh. You do know this one.

“Not to me.” You breathe, heart thumping in your chest and mouth going dry. Your hand slides down from his hair to cup his cheek, you can feel his pulsepoint racing like a hummingbird under your thumb. He is so close now, you can see flecks of gold in his eyes. You can count his eyelashes. You are shaking, “Not if it’s you.”

For a moment, you think you are going to kiss him. For a moment, you want to kiss him. Instead you let your hand drop from his cheek and stand back up, “It’s um...it’s as clean as im going to get it. Might need stitches, but i dont have the means or the skill to do that for you.”

He brings his arms up in a shrug, “No matter. So long as you’re satisfied.”

“This isn't about my satisfaction.” You say, crossing your arms, “You need to take better care of yourself out there. Look, maybe next time i should come with you and-”

He shoots upright, suddenly towering above you, all quivering limbs and sweaty palms, “Nonononono. You have to-” he sucks in a wheezy breath and shakes his head, “-you have to stay in here. For you to be tainted by the world outside, the despair it would-” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, growing and growing in volume, his hands tanging his hair pulling strands out at the roots, “-It would be glorious .” He growls, shaking and panting as he starts hitting himself in the head with his fist and a crescendo of, “nononononononono” is erupting from the cavern of his mouth.

It is frightening, but you are used to it. He gets in these fits sometimes, but has never attempted to hurt you, it’s more like he’s fighting himself. You wrap both your hands around his wrist, holding his arm still so he can’t use it to hit himself anymore before slowly bringing it back down to his side. He is still shaking with a mania that seeps out through every pore, but at least he isn't hurting himself. His mouth runs a mile a minute, arguing with both himself and people you have never met. He talks to them a lot, these other people, you don't want to ask him about them.

“Hey.” you whisper, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His big eyes turn to you, but he doesn't calm. He is still muttering and shaking, but this is okay. You start slowly rubbing your hands up and down the length of his forearms, “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

He whines and brings one of his sleeves up to his mouth to gnaw on it. You don't stop him, when he gets like this it’s one of his less destructive habits. It's preferable to scratching. You keep rubbing his free arm, your other hand curled around his hip. His eyes are slowly growing less wild, drool is dripping down his chin, “Alright. We’re going to move to the couch. Nice and slow.”

You loop his arm over your shoulders and tuck your other hand into his back pocket, slowly walking him over to the couch. This is the main reason you haven't left the apartment, the door unlocks from the inside so if you really wanted to, you could leave at any time. You’re scared though, both of what is waiting out in the city, and of what will happen to him if he comes back one day to find you gone. He is finally starting to calm when you lower him down onto the couch, still chewing absently on his sleeve, but his breathing has slowed a little. A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you tuck some of his hair behind his ear.

“Why do you worry about me so much?” You ask, more to yourself than to him. Stroking his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “I am no one to you.”

He is tired now after his episode, his arm is slow and shaky as he reaches out to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist. The warmth of his skin seeps in through your shirt, your heart climbs up into your throat when he squeezes , “You are hope. You are everything to me.” his eyes are half lidded, and his smile is soft, “The corruption, the despair it...haahaa...it tainted us all, but you-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, “-you slept right through it. You’re still hopeful...still perfect…”

“And if I hadn't. What would I be to you then?”

“Dead, most likely.” He sighs and it rattles through his chest, “Is there even a point to talking about what might have been? In my experience it has never helped any.”

He’s right. You hate the idea of a reality where you never meet him. This realisation makes your stomach turn. Familiarity breeds comfort, but when what is familiar is a man who is (under dirt and grime and sweat)  incredibly beautiful, you find that it breeds something else as well. You give the hand on your waist a pat, and he lets you go.

“The sun is setting.” You say, trying to distract yourself from how much you want his hand against you again, “I’m going to light some candles before it gets dark.”

“Oh! Before you do.” He manages to pull himself up from the couch and stumbles over to his rucksack, bending over and rummaging through it some, “I hm...i found something for you.”

You stand in the middle of the room, the last dregs of daylight are casting an orange light over his shaking form. He comes back over to you, holding out his offering, for a moment you're not even sure what it is.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, turning it over in your hands. It’s a polaroid camera, a little banged up but it looks like it will still work, “thank you.” you smile up at him, heart melting to nothing in your chest, “thank you so much.”

He laughs a little, shaking as he passes another two objects over to you, “I only found two film cartridges, but i can look for more!”

“No! This is perfect, I'm amazed you even managed to find two.”

“My luck may not be worth much.” He says with a sad smile, “but if i’m able to bring you some happiness with it, then i'm glad!”

“Here, just...give me a second.” Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the first cartridge, popping open the back of the camera and clicking it in. Before he has a chance to protest (because you know he will) you lift the camera up to your eye and snap a photo. For a moment he is dazzled by the flash, but then immediately starts wheezing.

“Wha....What?” His knees are wobbling again, his eyes are wide and unblinking.

The photo slides out of the camera and you grab it between your index finger and thumb, giving it a light shake, “I took a photo of you.”

“Why would you do that?” He’s laughing, but it sounds more confused than it does manic, “You only have two cartridges of film and you would waste a photo on garbage like me?”

“I don't think it was a waste.” The photo has just about finished developing, the light from the flash doesnt do his already pale skin any favors, but you smile all the same, “Sometimes you’re gone for a long time, and if i can't come with you then...i dunno, it’ll be nice to have.”

“You...miss me?”

You see no reason to lie, “I miss you.”

He is just staring at you now, eyes slowly examining every inch of your face. Your heart is racing. He takes a slow, shaky step towards you, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“I shouldn't.” He says, even as his trembling hand rests on your hip, the pads of his fingers slipping up under your shirt to stroke your skin, “I’m disgusting for even thinking about all that I want to do with you.” His grip on your hip grows tighter, and you feel a warmth in your stomach, “If you knew...eheh...if you could see what i was thinking right now.” his breathing has quickened, and the hand on your hip is trembling. So are your legs, “you’d kick me out of this apartment like the...the...haahhaa...the perverted trash that i am.”

Any thoughts within you about resisting or denying him have long dissipated. You do not even hesitate as you loop an arm behind his head, digging your fingers into the back of his hair, “I wouldn't.”

He doesn't say anything, he’s just looking at you and trembling. A whiny moan escaping his lips.

“The things you want to do to me…” You start, fingers slipping under his striped sweater, just enough to feel his skin, “Show me.”

His hand joins its brother on your hips, and he tugs you towards him. Your lips colliding in a desperate kiss, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. You moan into his open mouth, your fingers tangling even tighter in the mess of hair on the back of his head, he groans when you tug a little harder, slipping one of his hands up the front of your shirt and palming you over your bra. You cling to each other like two lost sailors adrift in the sea, attempting to find purchase in a world long gone. Your kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He is moaning and shaking, his long fingers tightly squeezing your breast as his other arm wraps around your waist and somehow tugs you even closer. He is so thin, pressed up against him like this you can feel his bones shifting under his skin. You bite his neck so hard you taste copper on your tongue and a moan explodes from his lips.

“Yes... yes! ” He stammers, drooling and shaking. His mouth pulled in such a wide smile that his lips tear and bleed, “hurt me...hng-hahAHA... destroy me !”

Your hands become frantic, grabbing his jacket and tugging it down his arms. His sweatshirt soon follows, ripped up over his head with a tenacity you didn't even know you had. You want to feel his skin, to suck, to bite, to bury your nails in it. Desperation is building inside you, almost ready to overflow. His skin is salty with sweat when you run your tongue over the length of his collarbone, fingers on your left hand running over each jutting rib as you slip your hand down to grasp his hip. The bone is sharp under the soft skin of your palm. Despite all his sweating and panting, his flesh is still cold under your hand, you want to warm him up. You tug your own shirt up over your head, chucking it behind you and unclasping your bra.

A wheezing laugh escapes him, he pushes his hair away from his face but it immediately falls back down again, “You...you’re…” his breath hitches, his pointer finger traces the underside of breast, shaky and cold, “you’re so soft...so warm .” he moans, licking his lips, “my goddess...would you permit me to pleasure you with my mouth?” he purrs. His eyes are swirling with arousal, his hand creeping up to massage your breast in his palm. It feels so good, he feels so good. He looks at you with this endless devotion, like you are something precious to be protected and loved .

“My guardian angel.” you whisper, tucking a wisp of hair behind his ear, “Whatever you want to do to me. Do it.”

His ghostly green eyes are blown wide, and he is wheezing again, “You just...what did you just call me?”

“I would have died out there on my own. You know that right?” You say, leaning in close enough that the tips of your breasts brush against his bare chest and cupping his cheek in your palm, “You saved my life. You are my guardian angel.”

“You are too kind to me, truly.” He whispers, his cold hands moving to your shoulders as he guides you backwards, “I am little more than garbage after all.” the back of your knees hit the couch and you collapse onto it, “Just a bug under the heel of an ultimate’s shoe...but you...hm…” he drops to his knees in front of you, his grin is all sharp teeth and drool. Some people might have been afraid of him, you thought he was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, “you deserve to be worshipped .” he breathes against your skin, leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. His mouth is warm and wet, you throw your head back in a wail, digging your fingers into the mess of hair on his head.

His hand slides up the side of your ribcage, thumb rubbing small practiced circles around your other nipple. A needy moan escapes your lips, and your legs drop open almost instinctively. He scrambles forward to nestle himself between them, the sharp angles of his torso dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and his free arm wraps around your waist to tug to two of you even closer together. A strangled cry rips through you as the bare skin of his chest presses firmly against your sex, hips bucking against him almost involentarily, overcome with a desire to just feel him . He laughs against your breast, sinking his teeth into your flesh as his tongue continues lathing across your pert nipple.

“Mm...you’re so soft…” He whispers, resting his cheek on the plump skin of your breast, “your skin is so smooth…” His other hand is still toying with your nipple, rolling it in between the calloused pads of his thumb and forefinger, “haaAAH...I’m so lucky. You permitting scum like me to pleasure you? Your kindness is...hm, how could I put it?” his tongue darts out to give your nipple a lick, you shiver, “It is inexorable ”

“Wrong again.”, You laugh breathily, carting your fingers through his unruly hair, “This is no kindness. This is desire, unflinching. I want you so badly, selfishly .”

A raspy giggle escapes him, shaking his shoulders as he pulls his arms from you to wrap them around himself instead, “Someone like you getting so riled up over someone like me...eheh…” His hands are shaking when he brings them back down to your waist, gripping the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, “The ideas I have - the things I want to do with my fingers,” he starts pulling your pants down. You lift yourself up a little to help him pull them over your hips, warmth blooming in your cheeks, he moans at the mere sight of your panties, “f-fuck…” he whines, all drool and sweat, “i want to finger you until i die . Oh... oh god… ” he’s kneeling lower down now, you can feel him shaking between your thighs, “you smell so good...i want to eat you until there's nothing left. Like you’re my last meal…” his hands come up and grip your thighs tight, he leans in closer to your center and you can barely hold in a moan when you feel his nose bump against the wet spot on your panties. You don't hold in the moan when you feel his tongue. You aren't sure you could if you tried, it tears out of you, the one swipe of his tongue over your soaked panties is like a bolt of lightning to your cunt.

He continues like this for a while, moaning and shaking as he drags his tongue up and down your panties. Occassionally suckling your clit through the fabric. His bony fingers dig so tight in the soft flesh of your thighs that you swear you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. After one particularly brutal suck, all you can do is sob, pulling his hair so tight that his lips are torn away from your centre.

“Something wrong?” He asks, playing innocent, but the look in his eye is cool and intelligent.

You heave a shaky breath, staring down at him, “Take them off. Please! ”

You swear you see his hips twitch at your demand. Eyes glazing over and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he hooks his fingers through the legs of your panties and tugs them down, leaving them to dangle off your left ankle. A whimper escapes you at the feeling of his breath against your wetness, his hands are hovering above you, shaking in the air like he isn't sure what to do with them. He wants to touch everything, he just can't decide where to start.

In the end, his left hand comes to rest at your hip, while his right middle and ring fingers push their way inside you. Your head lolls backward and your mouth drops open with a long moan at the feeling. His fingers are longer than yours are. A lot longer.

“I can feel you... twitching around me.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh, half a moan and pistons his fingers slowly in and out of you. The sound it makes is obscene , but it seems to only encourage him further. He leans in, and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently and occasionally flicking it with his tongue. Your hips buck reflexively, trying to get closer to his mouth.

“Ahh - ah! You taste so sweet...” he whispers against you, his breath cold on your burning flesh, “I - mmph...i feel like adam biting the apple...or persephone swallowing the pomegranate seeds...haah…” he removes his fingers, and his tongue slips inside you, swirling around before he returns his attention to your clit, “But which do you think it will be, hm? Will i be forced to leave you, or will i be bound to you for all eternity?” his eyes meet yours, boiling with passion and desire. He looks godlike between your thighs, grinning up at you with sharp teeth and the sheen of your own slick all over his chin. All you can do is shake and moan, quivering for want of him, “Care to try your luck answering the million dollar question, my goddess?”

“Never leave me…” you say, chest heaving. You reach down and cup his face in your hand, “I will never ask you to leave me.”

“Never?” he asks, his smile growing manic and his nails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the pain, “A dangerous promise.” His tongue enters you again and he moans sinfully against your skin, slowly thrusting the wet muscle in and out of you. His hands slip down under you and he lifts you up by you ass, pulling your sex even closer to his face. You whimper and moan and grind against him. Fingers tangled in the mess of his hair as he tongue fucks you into oblivion.

He’s whining and groaning, devouring you like a man starved, and when you feel the couch lurch, you realise he is also desperately grinding his cock into the front of it. You tug on his hair again, weaker than last time as the wobbly feeling of pleasure has overtaken you. He slowly draws back from your sex, licking his lips and staring up at you with his intimidating eyes, “Mm?”

A shaky breath rattles through your lungs and you lean forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, “I want you inside of me. Would that be okay?”

“I was already inside you.” He says, smirking and sticking out his tongue as a reminder.

“You know what i mean.” Your eyes flit down to the tent in his jeans, making what you really want even more obvious than it already is.

“You spoil me.” He breathes, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, “You couldn’t possibly know how desperately I want to sink myself inside you...but I- haaahh ...I am not worthy of such an intimate act.” His fingers reach out, and slowly begin circling your clit, you choke on a moan, “I am more than happy to pleasure you like this...no need to worry about my satisfaction.”

“But I want to see you come undone.” You hiss as his index finger circles you entrance, “I want you on top of me, inside of me. I-“ his finger pushes inside and your breath catches, “-I want you to fuck me. Please .”

A giggle bursts from his lips that quickly grows into a cackle. His shoulders shaking with its intensity, a line of drool dripping down his chin, he throws his arms wide and shoots you a manic grin. All teeth and gums, “If that is what you truly desire, then it would be pointless to deny you any further!” He clambors up from the floor, stumbling a little as he struggles to remove his jeans, “After all, I want you as well.” He purrs, his jeans and boxers dropping to the floor, “More than that…” he breathes, lowering you by your shoulders until you are lying back on the couch and nestling himself in between your open legs. Your heart is racing, he is hovering over you now. His lips barely a breath from yours, and the head of his cock brushing against your sex. He groans, “My goddess, I hunger for you.”

He hisses a breath in through his teeth as he starts pushing himself into you. Hips shaking as he resists the urge to shove himself in with one long stroke, his eyes roll back into his head and he moans. The feeling of him slowly entering you, combined with watching the strangled ecstasy on his face, it’s the most aroused you’ve ever been. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your own hips quivering as he finally bottoms out inside of you with a raspy groan, “So wet…” he hisses, “You feel so good around me…” he slips one of his hands down between the both of you, rubbing gentle circles around you clit. You keen loudly at the feeling and his hips stutter into yours, “Y-you like that, huh? I felt you tighten around me…”

You nod loosely, struggling to speak through your moans, “Please...move…”

He visibly shudders at your request, slowly inching his hips backward, and then forward again at full force. A moan that shifts to laugh halfway through escapes his lips, and he finally sets his rhythm. His hips snap against yours with a desperate fervor, he whines and mewls above you, his hair bouncing delicately with the movement. Eyes half lidded and drool slowly dripping down his chin. You look up at him in absolute awe, he looks and sounds like an angel . Covered in grime, twisted and tangled, but an angel all the same. His fingers return to your clit and you moan again, digging your nails into the skin of his back, tracing the protruding vertebrae with your fingertips.

A particularly deep thrust causes a choked sob to break forth from his lips, his head lolls forward and he nuzzles into the join between your shoulder and neck, “You’re perfect .” he breathes, hips still pumping, “I’m throbbing...can you feel it? Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

You can . You can feel the warmth of his cock pulsing inside of you. His arms are trembling and his breath is a rapid staccato, he’s trying to maintain his composure, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He breath hitches when you call him sweetheart .

“You are so kind to me…” He wheezes, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You shiver, a strangled moan escaping you as his dexterous fingers circle your clit even faster. Your thighs tighten around his narrow waist, hips grinding against the meat of his palm and deeper onto his cock. All you can do is shake and moan, the muscles in your stomach tight and only growing tighter. He looks at your face, visibly euphoric, “are you close?”

You nod and he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, “Jeez...I can’t believe trash like me is going to make you cum.” His eyes are wide when they meet yours, lips pulled tight in a grin, “You’re going to cum for me!” His hips move against yours at a frantic pace, his hands groping any part of you he can reach, a laugh in his chest building to a crescendo as he hits deeper and deeper inside of you, “You’re going to cum around me and I’m going to feel it...I-haaaaHAAAAA-“ he can’t speak any more, he’s laughing and moaning and fucking into you with an unbridled desperation.

“You need to...cum...Ah~ I want you to cum too…” you swallow, words catching in your throat when his fingers start working your clit again, “Cum inside me, angel. Please .”

“In-Inside?” He stutters, breath heaving and teeth clenched as he grows closer and closer to climax, “You would permit me to soil your insides with my filthy seed?”

“I don’t just permit you. I’m begging you! ” Your hips are canting up to meet his, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Drawing yourself tantalisingly close to orgasm, “I want to see you, to feel you. Come undone for me, please.”

His breath hitches, and his eyes grow dark. His fingers begin circling your clit at a brutal pace, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and clicking teeth. You moan loudly into his open mouth, legs twitching underneath his frantic ministrations. His fingers on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of you, his tongue tangled with yours. The heat in the pit of your stomach is boiling, your breath is coming in gasps. It feels so good.

“You’re mine.” He whispers against your lips, and you swear you hear a sob catching in his throat, “accept me, please. Cum for me, my love.”

With those words, he kisses you firmly, thrusting deep and slow inside of you, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps as you cum with a strangled moan. Dragging your nails down his spine and curling your toes, warmth settles through your entire body and it feels like a perfect finality. He whines against your lips, grinding and writhing as you walls clench around him, then his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open in the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard, and he cums .

His face softens in that moment, and for just a second, he looks normal. Like someone you might pass on the street or sit next to in class. You see him , and your heart turns to butter. You love him. Slowly, the speed of his thrusts peter out and he heaves a breath, eyes half lidded, giving you satisfied (albeit sleepy) smile. You return it, brushing your fingers down his cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He whispers, eyes moist with what will soon be tears.

You curl your hand around the back of his head and tug his forehead down to your lips. His skin tastes like sweat, “No. Thank you .”

*

He leaves the next morning. Unlike all the other times before, he never comes back.

[getitinbusan]

The Music Room -

Min Yoongi 18+ Smut

Part of the Lost Boys Series

JIN • NAMJOON • YOONGI •

Warnings: 18+ smut, MF sex, MF oral, A playful bite, Swearing.

Words: 3075

Summary: A stand alone series about a misfit friend group of seven boys. These stories are a day in the life snip it of who they are, where they came from and how they love.

The melody drifting up the barren hall floated through the air like it was made for your ears alone.

The poetic rhythm of the keys made you pause, listening enviously at the talent of whomever was playing.

But who was playing? It was 8 am on a Friday, the room should be vacant. Pulling up the music rooms schedule on your phone, you weren't wrong. The first spot of the day was yours for the entire semester. 

You knocked lightly. The sound stopped and the bench made it's familiar dragging noise across the concrete floor. 

Pulling the heavy windowless wood open by it's cold handle you peeked inside. He scrambled, seemingly embarrassed, shoving his sheet music into his backpack. 

"You should be more careful with your notes, don't want to ruin any masterpieces." 

"No fear in that," he mumbled.  "They're just a bunch of scribbled ideas."

 Pulling the zipper shut he slung it over his shoulder.  "Sorry, I didn't know this was your time slot." 

"It's fine." you tried to smile at him but he kept his eyes down.

"Don't you have the schools app? I can check to see when you're supposed to be here." You tapped the widget,  "What's your name?"

"It's fine, I'm actually not on the schedule." 

"Oh, why not? You sounded great. If you missed the cutoff you can still be added to a wait list. People drop out all the time." 

He looked up and grinned. By God if he wasn't the most beautiful boy you'd ever seen.

"I don't belong here." 

"Don't say that. I was listening and you're really talented, you deserve to be here just as much as any of us." 

"I don't though." His eyes met yours and you were done for. "I don't go here, I'm not a student." 

"Ahh, I guess that's a problem." 

"I already said I'm sorry," he got defensive. "I'll just get out of your way."

He started towards the door.

You tugged his backpack. "So is breaking into schools and playing piano a weird hobby of yours?"

You tried to lighten the mood, "you've got a little Phantom of the Opera University edition kink?" 

He laughed. "I'm not technically breaking in, I do have a key fob." He held up the school ID. "It's my roommates. And if you want to know about my kinks you're gonna have to get to know me a little better." 

You stepped closer and took it from his hand.

"Park Jimin, Performing Arts." Handing it back you eyed him up and down. "So what's your story….."

"My name's Yoongi."

Pulling a chair out from the corner you sat and rummaged through your backpack until you pulled out your breakfast. 

"Listen Yoongi, I was just going to sit here. I need logged practice time for course credit." 

You peeled your clementine, "So if you want to stay and play, be my guest."

He looked at you unsure, "Why would you do that for me?" 

You smiled and shrugged. "I like your face." 

Turning red he plopped his knapsack back onto the floor and reclaimed the bench. 

You waited until his fingers were just about to land on the keys. "I do have one condition though." 

He froze, "Yeah, what's that?" 

"You have to take me for coffee later and tell me your story. Agree?" 

"I Agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to ask you out anyway." 

You probably wouldn't have given up your time but you were intrigued. Park Jimin was an amazing dancer. The curious boy who was here on scholarship was often the subject of conversation in the dining hall. Not only was he good looking but he was a mystery. He hung out with the strangest group of friends, seven misfit boys who were proud to not fit in. In this small University town they stood out as odd, everyone referred to them as The Lost Boys. Yoongi, now being revealed to you as one of them, seemed harmless enough and the opportunity to get to know a piece of them was too good to pass. 

Walking and talking up the worn concrete path you made your way through the bustle of pajama clad students trying to get to class. 

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" 

"Yeah, but I don't care. I'd rather get to know you." 

"You should go, I'm not so important that you should lose a day of school over me." 

"It's all bullshit anyway Yoongi, it's not going to get me anywhere." 

He stopped abruptly, now just outside the small coffee shop. "You sound like a spoiled brat." 

You were shocked, who the hell was he to speak to you like that? 

"I'd kill to be in your position and you don't even give a shit about just squandering it away." 

He pulled the door open and looked at you crossly. "Still want that coffee?" 

You stepped in front of him and shot him a dirty look. "I do. You owe me AND because I'm a brat I'm going to order the fanciest thing on the menu. TO GO!" 

He silently walked behind you, following to the counter while you placed your ostentatious order. You stood studying him while he asked for an iced Americano. His blond shaggy hair skimmed his chocolate eyes and his sexy lips seemed to  always sit in permanent pout. They looked like they'd be nice to kiss. 

"You want to stop staring at me and take your expensive drink. You're holding up the line." 

You blushed, knocked from your daydream admiration by his deep voice.

You huffed while pulling the chair out, making a show of your annoyance, situating yourself at the corner table.

"I thought you were getting it to go?" he barbed. 

"Why would I do that when I can be a pain in your ass a little bit longer? You promised to tell me your story, let's hear it?" 

His inhale was deep. Anxiety? Apprehension? A mix of both? His eyes stared at his coffee while his fingers fiddled with the straw. "I want to be a musician." 

"Well I figured that much." 

"Listen, if you really want to know can you just shut up? This isn't an easy thing for me to talk about, I don't just tell everyone." 

"If you don't want to tell me don't" 

He cut you off. "But I do want to, for some stupid reason."

"What reason?" 

He exhaled with a smirk. "I like your face." 

You smiled, "Then please continue." 

"I want to be a musician. I write music and lyrics and it's all I've ever wanted my entire life."

He took a sip of coffee. "My parents didn't approve of my choices so I decided to move out on my own and live my life how I wanted." 

You nodded in understanding. 

"I didn't take into consideration how hard exactly that would be, but I'm a proud man, and there's no going back." 

"So what do you do? You're not a student, do you work?"

"Yeah, I deliver food and groceries part time. It doesn't pay much but the basics are covered." 

You looked down at your shitty expensive coffee in guilt, maybe you were just a spoiled brat.

"So whenever I'm not working I try to get as much practice and writing in as I can. I use Jimin's fob to get into the music room and that's where I am most nights...all night." he shrugged in omission. 

"So no time for a girlfriend?" you felt silly the moment it left your lips. 

"I didn't think so." He looked up for the first time since the conversation started. "But," he smiled, "I think given the right person priorities could definitely be changed." 

Talking into the afternoon time flew away. Several less expensive coffees later he looked at his phone and frowned. "I've got to go to work." 

He stood up and gathered his things. "But I'd love it if we could see each other again." 

You stood to go too. "Next Friday 8am? I can let you in with my fob?" 

"That sounds really nice." His hand reached out and his fingers brushed across yours as he took the tray from you. "But I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait that long. We're having a party tonight at our place...will you come?" 

You sat on the edge of the sofa watching the group around you getting drunk and philosophical. Definitely nothing like a frat party, these guys were a different breed.

His roommates were all handsome in their own way and something about them just set you at ease. No pretensions, no apologies, they were just who they were having fun.

Finally seeing him walk through the door your heart raced when his eye caught yours.

"I'm sorry I'm late, they kept getting orders." 

"It's okay. Your roommate..." you pointed to Seokjin. "The one with the really broad shoulders, he kept me entertained with some pretty good jokes." 

He scrunched his nose, "really, really sorry." 

You pulled a bottle vodka out of your purse and raised your brows. "Are you ready for some fun." 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the couch until you were close enough to hear without having to shout.

"I'd like to grab a shower. Do you want to wait in my room for me? I mean...if you're uncomfortable down here by yourself." 

It was a no brainer, the sexual tension and chemistry you'd had all day was like a current of electricity running between you.

"Lead the way." 

You looked around his room while he was showering. Sure the mattress was on the floor but the bed was made and his clothes were hung neatly in the closet. His dresser was stacked with notebooks that were overflowing with lyrics. Pieces of paper with doodles and random words loosely spilling from between the pages. 

Pictures, they must be family, small resemblances in their smiles and it looked like he had a brother. 

He had a shelf full of colognes. Picking up the Paco Rabanne he walked in as you were pulling the cap off to sniff it. 

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to be nosey, I just wanted to know what you smelled like." Idiot, of all the creepy things to say. 

He smiled, "It's alright, I'm not hiding anything." 

"No," your cheeks flushed when it finally registered that he was half naked in front of you. "I guess you really aren't." 

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just forgot to grab my clean clothes before I went in." He opened a drawer to pull out a shirt. 

"It doesn't," you blurted embarrassed. 

He pulled his hand away from the clothing and raised his brows quizzically, "So you don't want me to get dressed?" 

You walked towards him, he was gorgeous. Water droplets still clung to his muscular chest like he couldn't afford the time away from you to fully dry himself. 

"I think," you stammered, "That I'd actually prefer if you didn't."

You placed your hand on his bicep and waited for his response. 

It didn't come from words, it came from two soft warm lips attaching themselves to yours. 

"You're a good good kisser Min Yoongi. Is your mouth that good at everything?" 

"You mean like singing?" He teased your lips with his while he popped the button on your jeans. 

"No," you giggled. 

"Then you must mean biting?" His teeth lightly bit the flesh of your thigh as he kneeled to lower your pants and underwear. 

"Nope, that's not what I meant either." 

"Oh, I know, you must mean eating?" His warm tongue found your clit and gave it a little flick. "I think I'm pretty good at it." 

You ran your fingers through his hair while he looked up at you hungry. 

"Prove it," you moaned." 

Stepping out of your pants you leaned back against his dresser. Ass resting on the edge he opened your thighs, a low mumble of, "fuck" drifting out of his mouth before he dove in. 

His large hands held you open while his silky tongue explored every crevice of your sex sending your senses into a frenzy. Coming up for air every so often he'd moan at the loss of your taste before inhaling and going back in for more. He wasn't methodical, his mouth was unpredictable. One minute his tongue would be deep inside you and the next he'd have his lips around your clit sucking softly. 

"Come over here with me."

He led you to the bed, taking off your shirt before guiding you down. Your eyes ran over his body stopping at the bulge under the tightly wrapped terry cloth towel. The wetness in between your legs grew just thinking about getting to see it. 

He laid down beside you, holding your face and kissing you while you reached to undo his shroud.  

Smiling, he pulled your hand away, "I'm not done with you yet. Tell me what you want me to do to you." 

You had to rub your legs together for friction, he was driving you wild. "This morning, when I watched you playing?" 

He smiled like he knew.

"All I could think of was how sexy your..." He stopped your words by hooking two fingers  into your mouth and rubbing them against your tongue. 

"You were thinking about how good these would feel inside you?" He kissed your neck, "You really know what you want huh?" 

"Some people even say I'm spoiled."

"Do you always get your way?"

He plunged them inside of you changing your words of, "I hope so," into a long drawn out moan.  

Kissing his way down your neck and over your collar bones his mouth lingered on your breasts. Skimming his lips across your nipples he watched as they hardened into excited little buds. A small smile graced his face, he was clearly proud of how he was making your body react. 

His long piano fingers played skillfully inside of you while he latched onto your nipple and suckled. Your heart beat loudly like it was part of the parties soundtrack, the music  reverberating through the floor as he fingered you. The whole unfolding scene felt like a dream. Dizzy and intoxicated from lust and heavy breathing you didn't want to wake up to a reality other than this one.

A thud outside the door snapped you back, your thighs clamping shut on his hand as you pulled the covers up to hide yourself. 

"It's locked, nobody can get in, don't worry." He pulled the sheet back off of you to continue his work. 

"Are you sure they can't get in?"

A loud moan rang through the hall and the thuds against the wall gave away the truth. 

"I'm sure they have their own agenda." 

You flopped back trying to regain the moment while his fingers  stroked your walls. 

It was distracting at first, people fucking right outside his door. But a few minutes of listening to their pleasure, of hearing their moans and the pleas of harder, you were more turned on than ever. 

He watched you unravelling at the  pornographic sounds. "You wanna cum when they do?" 

"Please..please," you begged in time with the drag of his fingers. 

The sounds escalating on both sides of the wall seemed to add fuel to the fires of both immanent orgasms. Just as the stranger in the hall screamed her end, Yoongi pumped and sucked harder until you finished longer and louder than your unknown counterpart. He laughed as he pulled his fingers out of you, the strings of excitement cleaned off with a lurid suck of his own digits. 

Your head was still reeling when he pulled his towel off. His thick beautiful cock looked so hard and ripe as he reached in his drawer for a condom. 

"Can I put it on you?" You took it from his hand and ripped the package open. Holding it between your fingertips you got closer and ran your tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of pre cum on his freshly washed dick made you ready for more.

Giving him a few deep sucks and pumps you needed him now. He watched while you rolled the thin latex tightly over his twitching thickness and straddled him, wasting no time to begin bouncing on his cock. 

Your kisses were messy, hands entwined in his hair, your breasts grazing against his skin with every thrust while you rode him. "Fuck, you feel so good." 

His hands gripped your ass squeezing as he moaned underneath you. Orgasm building like a hurricane, the eye of the perfect storm became more imminent with every slide of your pleasure point against his soaked pubic trail.

"Make me cum Yoongi." 

He flipped you swiftly onto your back and his hips picked up the pace to the finish line. Thrusting in between your open thighs his cock drove you to convulsively cum, your cunt squeezing his own warm liquid into the condom between you. 

He lay with his arms around you in silence. Your head on his chest listening to his heart slowly make it's way back to a normal pace.

"I can't promise you anything more than who I am. I don't have anything to offer you but dreams that may or may not come true."

He stroked your hair as he spoke his truth. "I'm working hard, but I can't guarantee that I'll ever amount to anything more than a delivery boy." 

You sat up on your elbow and stared at the man you'd just fallen in love with. "I want to share all of my time with you Yoongi. In fact, I insist you take it. I've heard you play and I believe in you."

You waited until your lips were just about to land on his. "I do have one condition though." 

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Yeah, what's that?" 

"You've got to promise you'll write me a song. Agree?" 

His fingers splayed caressing your back, he couldn't help the huge smile that took over his face when he kissed you. 

"I agree. But you didn't have to give up your time for that, I was going to do it anyway."

[hello-mojo]

[Ok so the following is a story, (Rise Above This was was a working title) I was working on this completely on my own and I was quite excited about it. I actually had tried to plot out the progression and main plot points, and a few other notes for things I needed to look up and research to mesh the timelines a bit better. I hadn't gotten around to it though and now... well I don't know if I'll ever bring myself to write fanfiction anymore. I loved this story premise though and had such Hope's for it... ah well. The first chapter was completed but there was supposed to be so much more.. Frances having accidental magic and then getting sick and Healer Harry to save her... ah well. If you like the fic let me know, if you want to adopt it, comment.

Oh one other thing... not all the songs are actually nirvana songs, there's a pearl jam song used too but I was looking for songs in the right genre that seemed to work for the plot. It's all fair in fanfic right?

Anyhooty... I doubt I'll post the stories that were completed on my main profile as I orphaned them and they can still be viewedon archive just look up my old. Penname CagedNTorn.

For unfinished stuff I had oh let's see... 3 different charlie/Draco fics I was working on, one that was all but complete... I had a draco/spike crossover fic, plus there was the sailormooon/Harry Potter crossover... that was actually a Drarry fic too, there were a bunch of things that I'll likely never finish. So I'll post them by and by.

Do let me know if there's a better place to post the plot bunnies that are up for grabs.

Now I've blathered enough so here's the first chapter of Rise that can be adopted if someone is interested in finishing it.]

Rise Above This

Draco was backstage at the place he was playing that night.  He sat tuning his guitar wearing ripped jeans and a white long sleeve thermal t-shirt with thumb holes burnt in and also a mohair sweater he was particularly comfortable in.   Western Washington state was wet and cold pretty much all the time.  

This didn't really bother the English man though as England had similar weather.   He'd grown his hair out and had it cut shaggy and it hung in his eyes perpetually now but he didn't care.  It drove his mother nuts whenever she came to visit.  

Narcissa still hadn't quite gotten the hang of blending in with muggles but she was getting better.   She was sitting nearby chattering about her trip to France.   She was wearing faded bluejeans and a fitted corset top that she'd bought in paris.  She also had a posh cashmere sweater on where most of the kids were wearing flannel and converse sneakers, just like Draco. 

She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail.   Draco smiled at her as she nattered-on about wines and the latest runway fashions.  At least he still had her.  Pansy was floating around somewhere too, probably flirting with someone.   

"I just don't understand why you have to look so scruffy though darling.   You have such a lovely face!  Can't you at least comb your hair back?"  Narcissa was saying.   Draco rolled his eyes at her but gave her a shit-eating grin.  

"Because I like looking scruffy.  It pisses off the establishment.  Even if it didn't, I'd still do it.  Hiding myself away is comfortable."  Draco said, handing his guitar to a stagehand.  

"Besides, this grungy war refugee look suits him.  He's ridiculously hot."  Pansy stated with a grin as she sidled up to accompany Narcissa out front to watch the show.  Draco could already hear the crowd cheering as the lights went down.  Draco and the 2 other blokes, 1 squib and one muggleborn, all cast outs of the wizarding world lined up off stage.   They formed a circle and everyone put a hand in and they shook them, clapped and cried out their chant.    

"Music and ass, gas or grass.  We're here for a good time, not here for a long time.   Lets do this!"  Draco led the chant the guys all cheered and then took the stage.  Dave went first and started a drum beat, Krist was next and began the base-line.  Then Draco, carrying his electric guitar, went to the mic.  He never looked at the audience.   He wasn't here for them,  not really.  He was here for himself.   Because he had something to say.  Even if no one really understood him or interpreted his messages clearly.  

"Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memoria."   

He strummed the chords and sang the song not really looking at anyone.  He was trying quite unsuccessfully not to think about a certain messy haired brunette.   

After the war he'd had every single door slammed in his face.  Even the most menial of jobs wouldn't hire him.  Potter had kept his word and put in a good word for him and his mother but the blonde on stage really didn't know why he'd bothered.   No one in the Wizarding world wanted him or any other Slytherin around.   Dave was a muggleborn Slytherin in the year below Draco and had also been chased out.  

"Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memory." ��

It was hard not to think of Potter when he sang this song because it was about him, at least mostly.  There was always a thinly veiled anti establishment opinion mixed in. The fans loved it though and he didn't really mind.  It’s not like Harry would ever show up and hear it.  He was too busy still saving the world,  having babies and whatever else it was that heros did.  Not Draco.  His long shaggy hair hung in his face as he sang the chorus, and shook his head.  Just one word.  Memory.   His best and worst thing.  His respite and the source of his nightmares.  

He finished off the song and they hit a heavy chord progression into the next song.  

"Load up on guns, bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over bored and self assured

Oh no, I know a dirty word"  

The kids surged forward jumping up and down and shaking their heads as they raised their fists in the air and sang along.  

Draco had worked with Dave to put his thoughts on the war into muggle terms.  He thought they'd done pretty good honestly.  Even if they hadn't,  the teenagers in Seattle and California couldn't get enough.   He screamed the chorus and the kids screamed it with him.  

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now, entertain us

A mulatto

An albino

A mosquito

My libido

Yeah, hey, yay"  

Five years ago Draco had left the wizarding world and his mother behind.  Narcissa was more than able to take care of herself.   Draco wasn't concerned about her in that respect.   His father had been a lot of things but stupid had never been one of them.  Misguided certainly,  but not stupid.   

Luscious had moved money around in various accounts all over the world.  He'd taken Draco with him on nearly all of his business trips.  Draco had had many private tutors growing up and could speak French, English, Russian and German fluently.  He could read in several languages.  His father had insisted.  Draco learned to balance a ledger when most kids were learning to ride a bicycle.   

When the ministry had seized their accounts in Gringotts,  they hadn't even seized a tenth of the true fortune.   Draco hadn't needed to work.  He'd wanted to.  However no one would let him.  So he'd packed a duffle bag of casual clothes,  taken his muggle id and cards and left for America.  He'd covered his accent fairly well he thought, and if he came off sounding like a stoned southerner at times… no one pointed it out.  

He met Dave hanging around kings cross station panhandling.   The two 18 year olds decided to strike out together.   Draco and Dave were sitting together at some boardwalk in Seattle, Washington when Draco flipped his skateboard and saw a kid playing guitar near-by.   He'd been hooked from the first chord.  He'd bought them instruments and they taught themselves to play.  

"I think you'll all know this next one."  

Draco hit the distinctive chords and the kids in the audience squealed with delight.  This was more personal,  more singing than the growly screaming.   More about his feelings than anything else.   He hid in his hair not seeing anyone.   In his mind he tried to be back in that skatepark with scraped knees, just him and Dave.  

"What else should I be?

All apologies

What else should I say?

Everyone is gay

What else should I write?

I don't have the right

What else should I be?

All apologies."

He sang the words not looking at his mother, not caring about her reaction to that statement.   He'd forgotten she hadn’t heard this particular song before.   Well she had to find out sooner or later he supposed.   

"I wish I was like you

Easily amused

Find my nest of salt

Everything is my fault

I'll take all the blame

Aqua seafoam shame

Sunburn, freezer burn

Choking on the ashes of her enemy."  

Draco finished the song and the kids were crying out various songs they wanted to hear while cheering and clapping.  Draco loved it.  He lived for it.  They only had one more song to play.  It would end the show on a high note before the next band took the stage.  The next song he was about to play was about a lot of things.  Various parts of the war, Tom Riddles beginnings, the discrimination in the Wizarding world,  his own parents a bit.   In hindsight, Draco realized that he likely should have adjusted the set list a bit when he'd found out his mother was coming to the show.  'Too late to do anything about it now.' He thought to himself.   Maybe they'd finally have a real conversation for a change.  He set his guitar in a stand nearby and took a deep breath.  

"At home

Drawing pictures

Of mountain tops

With him on top

Lemon yellow sun

Arms raised in a V

And the dead lay in pools of maroon below."  

He shook his head, hiding in his hair and not seeing anyone.   Only Dave and Krist, only his guitar.   The kids screamed and jumped and sang along.  Draco thrashed around stage with them, just the microphone cord wrapped around his hand.  

"Daddy didn't give attention

Oh, to the fact that mommy didn't care

King Tommy the Wicked

Ruled his world

Tommy spoke in class today

Tommy spoke in class today" 

The guys backed him up intermittently on the chorus and the base thumped throughout the song, a steady heartbeat.  Draco couldn’t let himself worry about hurting his mother's feelings.   He sang what he needed to say.  He knew nothing was ever simple.  There were at least two sides to every story and a variety of contributing factors.   

"Clearly I remember

Pickin' on the boy

Seemed a harmless little fuck

But we unleashed a snake

Gnashed his teeth

And bit the recess lady's breast."

Draco knew the words painted a vivid picture.   He didn't care.   Maybe people would learn that bullying others for shit beyond their control was stupid and had far reaching consequences.   There were certainly a few chapters in his story that he'd like to rewrite.   

"How could I forget

And he hit me with a surprise left

My jaw left hurting

Dropped wide open

Just like the day

Oh, like the day I heard."  

There was no possible way he could make up for some of the shit he'd done.  He knew that.  He tried to just pass on the lessons.  Hoping that if he could even reach just one person,  it'd be worth it.  Exile in the muggle world.  They weren't so bad really.   Their fashions were quite fun, and much more functional than robes.  He missed making potions, doing magic.  It was a particular skill set that he was good at.  There was no place in the muggle world for magic.  He had to be even more careful now that they were getting really famous.   People were always watching him.  Hiding in the bushes, trying to sneak into his hotel room, everyone wanted pictures of him to sell to the press.  He couldn't risk anyone seeing him perform magic.  He did little things like casting stasis charms or heating up a hot beverage,  or casting a cooling charm on himself and the guy's.  He knew his mind was spiraling away from the uncomfortable conversation with his mother that he was anticipating after this.  

"Daddy didn't give affection, no!

And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear

King Tommy The Wicked

Ruled his world

Try to erase this (try to erase this)

From the blackboard." 

He knew his parents had loved him.  They had been very cold, and reserved in all things though.  His mother could be formidable when she wanted to be and his father was doting yet terrifying.   That was something about Tom Riddle's life that Draco had been able to understand.   Feeling alone, as if no one cared, no one understood you.  He knew how cruel kids could be,  because he had been the one leading the mockery in his day.  

He'd never once thought about what it might feel like on the other side of it.  Until he'd been on the receiving end of such mockery, ridicule and unfairness did he begin to re-think his actions as a snotty young man.  The crowd was going wild.  

Draco stood as the lights came up and he bowed with the guys.  They all smiled and waved to their fans.   Off stage, he saw his mother standing with Pansy.  Narcissa looked a mixture of hurt, worried and angry.  A reporter from MTV was there, shoving a microphone in his face.  Draco smiled his small smile,  just a turning up of the corners of his mouth really.   He answered all of the questions asked in a rare and rather lengthy interview,  glad for the temporary reprieve from his mother for the moment.   

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar set of green eyes and messy black hair, accompanied by none other than Hermione Granger and a regular. Analese Taylor was no stranger to Draco. She had been a fan since the band's boardwalk skate park days. Now that they were famous, she was their number one fan. The way Granger was clutching her arms, the strong resemblance between the two women, Draco could slap himself for not realizing what was so familiar about the girl. She had to be related to Granger, no other explanation.

Before he could really panic about the three familiar faces another familiar set of arms was thrown around his knees and a very delighted

"Daddy!" Rang through the room as his daughter Frances threw her arms around him. Draco glanced around for his soon to be ex wife. He spotted her nearby with arms crossed, looking furious. He sighed deeply as he scooped his daughter into his arms. The child was his whole world outside of his music. Draco glanced back towards Potter and Granger as his wife stormed over as the press and other onlookers were cleared out by Pansy.

[cowboahhoe]

The Viper - Arthur Morgan x Reader

A quick imagine, could do more parts if you want?

Warnings: mention of abuse

Summary: upon fleeing an abusive relationship, the reader finds themselves being chased by lawmen, bounty hunters and a few members of the Van Der Linde Gang after a night in Valentine.

(gif credits to whoever owns it)

———————————————————

The last few months had been far less than ideal for you. You were on the run from the law, just you and your horse Nellie. You hadn't ever foreseen your life going this way - you had always been for all intents and purposes a good girl. That was until you had met your first husband, Blake. Your birth father had decided that money meant a lot more to him than his only daughters life, so he had sold you to the highest bidder which seemed like an outdated and abusive practice; even in 1899. Blake had money in oil, and used you as arm candy but had no real love or respect for you. You were nothing more than a maid, house wife, punching bag and toy for his sexual pleasures for far too long. One fateful night your fuse had been lit, and you fought back. A shroud of red flooded your body as you pointed his own pistol between his eyes - finally feeling power against the vile man who had held you captive for a year, and you felt no remorse in applying pressure to the trigger.

The next few moments went by in a blur, you had packed a bag with all the money yourself and Blake had around - alongside necessities such as food, and weapons. After packing your loyal horse, you had faded into the night. Leaving Saint Denis, heading west. You knew there would be repercussions for your actions but there was no way to tell just how intense the manhunt would be for you, nor how large the price on your head would be for one small murder. $500 for your return to Saint Denis alive meant that you'd come across your fair share of bounty hunters in your time living off the land; you quickly realised you could only trust yourself, and your horse. This brings us to your lonely (but free) present day.

You sit in the saloon in Valentine nursing a whisky, your third of the evening. You'd been in an around the Valentine area for a few days and knew it was only a matter of time before you had to move along and set up somewhere else. Perhaps Rhodes? Although you quickly shake the thought from your mind - that may just be too close to the scene of the crime. Just as you suckle the final dregs from your glass, you spot a curious group of men walking into the saloon. You daren't take your eyes off of them, memorising every feature behind every person in the group, you want to be able to recall their identities should you need to 'silence' them. One man wore a black hat, black hair slicked with pomade and nearly down to his shoulders. He wore a black coat, and a black vest with a red breast pocket. This man seemed to have an unmatched charisma; this much you could tell simply from the way he stood. This wasn't an innocent man. Then again, who is? Next to him, a slightly smaller, scrawnier gent. With grey hair, and wearing a blue vest this man seemed to have kinder eyes, which may just be part of his play. Finally, a rugged man wearing a black hat, detailed with brown rope - you noted the bullet hole in the rim of the hat. He wore a tattered, dirty blue working shirt, and wore worn black trousers with cotton suspenders tying it all together. Although, with this man you struggle to focus so much on the clothes that cover his broad frame and pay particular attention to his features. Sandy brown hair, a messy - somewhat scratchy looking beard. The beard had a few holes in, which seemed to be due to the placement of some scars; the most prominent of which was on his chin. Then there came those eyes. Even from across the saloon you could tell they were bright blue with a twinge of green. The handsome man simply dipped on his beard whilst the other two men spoke quietly to the group, he didn't seem like the leader of the trio by any means, but it didn't seem that was important.

Just then, blue eyes looks at you and makes eye contact while taking another swig from his beer. For a moment, you're worried he may have recognised you but that fear quickly diminishes when he simply nods his head your way and turns his attention back to his friends. With new found courage, you move toward the bar. Intent on ordering a new beverage when you hear the black haired man pull something from his satchel, and start speaking to the man with grey hair in a hushed tone.

"Hosea, I told you. She's the viper, the one they want in Saint Denis... our boy John was right. We hand her in, it's a good honest days work" the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you realise your time in Valentine is over - that and you need to play the next few minutes very wisely.

"I don't know Dutch, doesn't it seem unfair we're using a woman's bounty to help us flee our own misfortunes with the law?" Scrawny replies, suddenly he has become your favourite of the bunch. Blue eyes doesn't chime in at all, but you can feel his eyes on you as you stand at the bar, awaiting a cue to either whip out your pistol or flee the scene.

Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you decide the best solution is to try and slip away whilst the group argue about your fate. You know that they're outlaws, and if there are three outlaws coming after you... then you probably don't stand much of a chance. You make a beeline for the entrance, and whistle for your horse as soon as you reach the open air feeling the eyes of Dutch, Hosea and blue eyes on you as you make your exit. The unmistakable shuffle of boots accompany your exit, and you know that the men are right on your tail - the discussion of your fate seemed to be silence by your exit and only one objective remained. Get her.

You hop on the back of your horse, Nellie. She's an Arabian White and so you prayed that whatever horses this band of thieves had were slower than your girl. In seconds, you were off. You had made a instant decision to head in the direction of Emerald Ranch, hoping to lose them on the way then loop back round and head west toward Strawberry - although admittedly tactic wasn't at the forefront of your mind. Fight or flight had well and truly kicked in and you knew you needed to get away, far away. The thunderous chorus of hooves colliding with the hard ground rung through the night as the three horses chased your dear girl a cross the plains of the heartlands. Admittedly, you should have gone up through Cumberland forest as there was more cover to hide and slip away undetected. Though you had come across bounty hunters, and lawmen you had never come across a group of outlaws intent on handing you in and so the city girl who lived within you shook in her boots, and used instinct and not her brain when plotting which escape route to take.

"We just wanna talk miss" Dutch called in the dark.

"Like fuck you do Mister, I heard y'all talking about taking ma bounty" you curse back; relying a lot on your horses innate sense of direction to guide you through the hills and trying to guide her to help you both disappear. One of the men take a shot at the floor near your horse, probably trying to spook her but being that your horse is tough as nails she barely bats an eyelid.

"C'mon miss we really don't wanna hurt ya" an unfamiliar voice shouts. You realise this must be the man with blue eyes, his rough voice matches his rugged appearance well - although you don't have much time to think about the dreamy mans voice as you hear the whirl of a lasso from behind you.

You duck, and make unpredictable movements on Nellie in order to avoid the grip of the rope around your body. You feel silent panicked tears roll down your cheeks as you realise your luck had run out; not knowing your fate with these three outlaws. Just then, the rope whips itself around you and you're pulled from your seat and thrown against the floor. Your head collided with a rock, making you see stars as your horse comes to a stop and stands beside you as if waiting for you to get back up. She doesn't realise this is likely your final ride. The three men come to a stop, and blue eyes hog ties you with the lasso before turning you onto your back.

All three men stood over you, as you shook and tears leaked from your eyes.

"take me then, I don't regret what I did to him. He deserved it more than anyone I have ever known" I spit with venom.

"My dear, did the countless bounty hunters, lawmen and innocent folk who got in your way deserve the same end?" Dutch replies. Bending his knees to move closer to your face so he is crouched over you as you lay on the dirt staring up at the night sky.

"If someone tried to have you swing for self defence and would you roll over and let them take you? Or would you fight?" You respond. Looking the man right in the eyes. Giving him the coldest look you can muster up while your cheeks are stained with tears. Dutch chuckles, looking up at Hosea and Blue eyes with a jovial expression.

"Darlin' im gonna give you a choice. You can go to Saint Denis and swing, or... you can come join us. We're a group of misfits and outcasts and we're always in need of more guns. You'd have to earn your keep, of course but from what I've heard you've had no issue wrangling an income for yourself."

"Dutch is that really wise? We have plenty of people to feed we could just let the poor lady go?" Blue eyes replies to Dutch. Causing him to whip his head up.

"Enough, Arthur! She can help in ways most of those women back at camp won't, besides - If she outstays her welcome we could always take her on a trip to Saint Denis." He smiles down at you while making his threat.

"I'll go with you." You reply begrudgingly. Whenever you can make it happen, you'll escape their camp. But for now this beats swinging.

"Well then, Arthur would you be so kind as to place this fine lady on the back of your horse?" Dutch says, walking over to his own beautiful steed.

"I have a horse of my own I can ride!" You shout back to him as Arthur removes me from the floor and places you face down on his horse.

"I know, but I don't want to risk you cutting off before meeting everyone and seeing how we do things. I happen to think you'll like it once you're not all tied up" he laughs. Arthur makes sure you're well seated before getting on his horse and coaxing it into moving to follow Dutch and Hosea. You whistle for your own horse who follows behind, with all your belongings.

"I'm sorry about this miss, uh, miss..." Arthur begins. Making it clear he knows you as only your pseudonym of 'the viper'.

"Y/N, just call me Y/N Viper" you respond, already out of breath from the movement of the horse pressing up against your chest and stomach. Compressing you're ability to breathe.

"well miss Viper, we have quite a ride ahead" Arthur replies, you huff in response and Arthur chuckles. Kicking the horse into moving a bit faster so as to catch up with Dutch and Hosea. You glance back at your beautiful horse and watch as loyally follows behind you.

Rolling your eyes, you exhale again.

This is going to be a long night.

________________________

Needless to say I hope you liked this? Can do additional parts if you want, or I mean if you have any ideas please feel free to let me know. I'm not sure how tumblr works so idk comment or message any ideas or recommendations or anything if you feel like it.

ALSO do let me know if you think this is trash because I’d rather know I just was having a touch of fun writing a little bit this evening. I’m also pregnant and my brain is completely useless so I really appreciate feedback 💖

Thanks so much 💖

[femreader]

My Princess - Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: fem!reader x Pirate!Nat

Summary: a pirate AU. Y/N is the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Before her father manages to marry her off to a rich knight, Y/N real love comes and swoops her to the ship she’s grown to love.

A/N: lowkey and kinda high key wanted to make a fic based off of this dress. And I should be studying for exams but alas... 

”Y/N, you need to come down.”

”Yeah, give me. Ugh, a minute,” Y/N coughed out as her maid tightened her corset. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes when her response was followed by a bunch of mumbles and silent arguments from her mother. Her father was out, speaking to the shipsmen about their next trade no doubt, leaving Y/N’s mother to take care her daughter looked presentable when her future husband was courting her.

Y/N placed a hand on her lower stomach, over the corset. She could hardly breathe and the hot sun didn’t help at all. The dress was really beautiful and flowy though, so she wouldn’t get overly hot when going outside. She knew her mother wouldn’t like the torso as it showed her shoulders and collarbones, no doubt she’d make Y/N wear a small veil over her shoulders. It was a shame, Y/N liked the upper part best out of everything.

”I think, it’s tight enough,” Y/N pointed as her maid tied the lace.

”We want you to look as gorgeous as possible for Knight Ward don’t we,” her maid jokingly said and moved Y/N face so it was perfectly set. She looked at the merchant’s daughter through the mirror and smiled.

”I have to say I envy you. Knight Ward is a real charmer. And really attractive,” her maid emphasized the word ‘really’ while patting down the dress once more. Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed as she turned around in her spot and put on a special pearl necklace she was given as a gift. It made her feel a bit more safe to have part of her real love right next to her heart.

”You can have him for all I care,” she sighed and looked at her maid. ”I do not love him.”

”Oh but you will learn to,” her maid exhaled. She was definitely in love with Y/N’s future husband. But who wasn’t? Grant Ward was the talk of the town. A wealthy background, attractive and in the king's guard. He had ladies falling left and right for him, it just happened to be that Y/N had already fallen for someone else. Someone her parents would absolutely, definitely, in no way whatsoever approve of. Even if for some miracle they’d accept her way of living they never would accept that...well that she was a she. And that made her sad.

Y/N was about to open her mouth before the wooden door opened and her mother came in, mumbling incoherent stuff about being late under her breath. Her eyes went wide when she saw her daughter.

”Oh you look so beautiful my darling,” she squashed Y/N’s cheeks before glancing her bare shoulders. She whipped out a light pink veil and placed it over her arms, nodding approvingly.

”There, much better. Oh, Knight Ward will not be able to take his eyes off of you after he sees you.”

”But mother,” Y/N Butted in and huffed while trying to make the slipping veil stay in place. ”I don’t like him. Let alone love him. He’s arrogant and ungrateful, he has no care for the nature-”

”Don’t speak of your future husband in that manner. Fine ladies speak with dignity,” her mother warned and lowered her voice with every word. The maid looked slightly uncomfortable, standing next to the door with an umbrella in her hand for Y/N. Y/N’s mother looked at her, giving her an unnecessary stinky eye and walked her daughter out of the room, nose held high. 

Y/N’s mother wasn’t a nobody, in any way. Everyone knew Mrs. Y/L/N, she was strict and possibly the next most beautiful human in the town right after her own daughter. Sometimes Y/N felt like she was competing with her. Her mother was always in a tight corset and a big dress, pale skin and red lips covered in paint. There was no day when she was not all dolled up. Y/N was half believing that she even slept with her make-up on. 

“Chin up,” Her mother said quietly as they walked down the grand staircase towards the front door, where their carriage was waiting. “And do not slouch. It’ll make you look awful. And do tuck your stomach in.” Y/N would’ve rolled her eyes and said something back in her spiteful nature had it not been for the gentleman by the door. 

Grant Ward, not in his knight uniform but in a clean outfit. He had a long dark blue coat (some golden patterns decorating the outlines of course), pants, a button-up that looked like it was just a tad too tight on him, and pair of black boots. He looked good Y/N couldn’t deny it, but the thought of marrying him just made her want to throw up in her mouth. That or then her corset was so tight it pushed the breakfast up.

 Y/N pursed her lips and gave her hand to Grant’s outstretched one. Y/N could feel her mother beaming from behind her when Grant kissed her hand and offered to hook her arm with his. Y/N, without any other option, did so as followed him to the carriage which would drive them... somewhere.

It was the third time Grant was courting Y/N in five months. She couldn’t possibly comprehend how the people around her expected her to love someone, or even tolerate a person who she met barely once a month and who looked at her like an item. And the worst of all, Y/N was assuming he’d ask her hand today.

“I do not understand how you feel... comfortable here. Your dress will get dirty,” Grant said scrunching his nose as he scanned the market in the downtown they had gone to by Y/N’s request. Only because it was full of nice people and distractions. Y/N was hoping she could avoid the question as long as possible.

“I like it here. You meet people, and it’s genuinely a humble place. Besides,” Y/N smiled and gave a coin for an apple to an elder woman. She gave a bright smile back to her. “My dress is the least of my worries.”

Grant stepped to the side as three children ran down the street. He turned to look at Y/N and smiled tightly to her, his eyes glancing at her pearl necklace, maybe lingering on her chest area a bit too long than they should. Y/N cleared her throat and turned to walk along the street again.

“Those are very beautiful pearls. Where did you get them from? They must not have been from this town.”

Y/N gulped. Her hand shot up to play with the smooth pearls and the memory of how she got them flashed in her mind, clear like it happened yesterday. A sad feeling settled into her stomach as she thought about her.

“You shouldn’t use money on me. I already get stuff I don’t want,” Y/N whined as the fiery red-haired woman presented her a pearl necklace. Natasha didn’t take no for an answer and just rolled her eyes but smiled softly. They sat opposite each other in the dry cave by the beach. It was their small little hiding place and because not many people were aware of the place Y/N and Natasha had it mostly to themselves.

“Who said I used money on it,” Natasha smirked at Y/N’s face before clasping the necklace around her neck. Y/N felt her hands draw slightly against her skin, making her shiver and actually want more of it. She sighed and took the pirate’s hands in hers, feeling the rough and used hands in her pampered and soft ones. Natasha knew something was wrong, not only from her lover’s appearance and slouched shoulders but also from the silence. After they had started this... thing, in secret Natasha hadn’t ever had a silent moment with Y/N.

She furrowed her eyebrows and sat more proper and closer to her.

“I-I... God, I don’t know how to say this,” Y/N sighed and shook her head, feeling Nat’s fingers in her palms. “My parents are marrying me off to someone. That Ward, and he... he’s awful,” she choked out, even though she wasn’t even close to crying. She was more angry and irritated than sad and desperate. Her eyes looked at Natasha, who had suddenly gone darker.

“They want me to court him before officially marrying him, but eventually... it’ll go to that,” Y/N said and looked up at Natasha. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to marry him. I just don't have any authority over this,” She followed and stood up as her girlfriend stood up. Y/N felt her feet dig into the sand, making her already short figure even shorter compared to Natasha’s. Her white cotton shirt moved in the wind and her brown trousers and dark boots were in sand. Y/N’s beige dress was probably filled with sand too but it didn’t worry her that much.

Natasha pushed her shoulder-length red hair back and breathed deeply, Y/N followed her every move. Nat looked at her with her piercing eyes and took her hands into hers again. She bit her lip before speaking.

“What would you do to get out of it?”

“What?” Y/N sputtered, completely surprised by the question. If something she thought Natasha would have left her.

“I-I mean... anything. Anything,” she blurted out and swallowed thickly. “Why?”

“If I said I could get you out of this, of all of this and into the sea with me... would you come with me? Leave this place?” Natasha asked, warily. Y/N felt disturbed by her unusual demeanor, whenever she was with Nat she would be this fierce and fearless pirate who didn’t take shit from no one. but now she seemed scared.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded multiple times and gripped Natasha’s worn collar. “Yeah,” she mumbled against her lips before kissing her. Natasha kissed her sweetly back and rested her hands on her lips.

“I have to make some arrangements, and it’ll take time. I’m not sure how long, but I can assure you,” Nat looked at Y/N’s eyes determinately. “I will come and get you before you are married to anyone.”

That was the last words Y/N had heard from Natasha in five months. She had done everything in her power to buy time. Distracting Grant, changing the subject when it got even close to marriage. But now Y/N was running out of time and she was afraid Natasha wouldn’t be there on time.

“A gift,” She said shortly and continued walking. Grant nodded and walked, his hands behind his back. Y/N felt the tension in the air and it was almost like she was about to suffocate from something that hadn’t even occurred yet.

“Y/N could you- I mean,” Grant tried to think what to say. “Can we go somewhere a bit more private. I need to talk to you.”

And there it was. Y/N felt the anxiety in her stomach as she followed Grant and walked towards a bit more secluded area near the big mansion like her family. How the hell was she supposed to get herself out of this one?

Grant looked at her and then on the ground. This happened multiple times before he even managed to open his mouth.

“You are a very fine young lady and very beautiful,” He said in a tone Y/N did not enjoy. She glanced around the area, the faint sounds of the market and the seagulls were the only thing she heard. Apart from the sea of course. She offered him a fake smile.

“And I am sure you’d make a good wife, for me and an excellent mother to our children. And that is why,” Okay if you didn’t lose me before you definitely lost me there. Y/N thought but kept the innocent and oblivious expression on her face. She felt her heart beat faster and soon she found herself asking for some kind of a miracle.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Would you do the honor and marry me?”

It was silent. Grant looked at Y/N with his dark eyes, waiting for her response which obviously would be yes. This all was arranged months ago, her mother herself had said to ask her hand in the market as it was probably the only area her stubborn and wild child would go voluntarily. Even though Grant had preferred a walk in the gardens. Y/N opened her mouth like a fish, feeling her fingers itch and sweat. Before she could possibly answer a shout was heard.

“It’s The Avenger!”

Natasha, Y/N immediately thought. Her miracle. She beamed and took a step towards the path that would take her to the dock, but Grant’s hand stopped her. He looked over to the market where people were running back to their home’s and where the navy men were getting ready to fight. Y/N knew there weren’t that many men in the army anyway, as the town was small compared to the ones couple hours away, If it actually was The Avenger, Y/N knew Natasha and the rest of the crew actually might have had a shot.

“You need to be safe, follow me,” Grant said and pulled Y/N after him. Y/N’s brain racked quickly and she dug her feet into the ground. Her flowy pink dress moved around her like waves.

“You-you have to go and defend the city,” She mimicked a scared girl's voice. “Please, I will hide, but just save those people,” Y/N was kinda proud of her act. Her eyes were wide, like a puppy and it didn’t take long before Grant let the ego in himself win over. Placing a kiss on her cheeks he walked Y/N into the closest shop and left her there. As soon as he was out of sight Y/N wiped her cheek multiple times with a disgusted look on her face. 

She beamed as she ran down the stone alley barefoot, the sounds of the harbor were coming closer. The scent of the sea, the freedom she had longed for so many years was just in the grasp of her arms. 

“This way,” Someone grasped her arm and before Y/N could react she saw a dark-skinned man pulling her towards another alleyway where was a copper-haired woman waiting. 

“So this is Y/N?” 

“Wanda, wait until we get on the ship please,” The man said in a sarcastic manner to what Wanda rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever Sam. Steve and Bucky went to make a distraction,” She added with a slightly wicked smile on her face. She looked at Y/N, who was staring at them, looking very lost. 

“They like to cause trouble.”

“Where’s Natasha,” Y/N asked as they ran down the alley and along the docks. Her mouth fell down as the huge pirate ship with a golden Avenger was written. A woman was carved on the head, it held some sort of torch in her hands. 

“She was very reluctant on staying, almost had to knock her out. But the fewer people we have causing havoc the easier it was to get you out,” Sam explained as they all climbed up on the deck. Y/N saw two men laughing as they ran down the streets, both of them wearing necklaces on their necks and joking about something. 

Y/N grabbed Wanda’s hand and jumped on the deck, Sam, Steve and Bucky not far behind. 

“Y/N?” a familiar voice called out and she turned around. 

There, in all of her glory, was Natasha, whose hair was now long enough to braid. Y/N looked at her with wide eyes, her heart leaped from joy. The last half a year had been the worst months in her life but it had definitely been worth it. 

“Okay, guys, let’s move! Carol, can you get us out of here,” Steve shouted to a blonde-haired woman to which she sassily waved her hand. She hopped behind the wheel and turned it around. Y/N could hear her mumble a low ‘aye aye captain’ under her breath. 

“Oh, Nat,” She went to Natasha and hugged her tightly. The scent of salt and roses hit her nose again. “I missed you so much you have no idea.”

“Hmm...” The redhead hummed, mischief in her eyes. “You can prove that to me later,” She chuckled and moved a fallen piece of hair out from Y/N’s now slightly red face. 

“But I missed you too. I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” Y/N mumbled before placing a kiss on her lips. 

“With all respect,” Sam, who was undoing some of the ropes attached to the handles on the railings. “We kinda need your help here. 

“Shut it, Sam, just because no one beds you doesn’t mean you get to complain,” Carol spoke from the steering wheel as they moved further away from the harbor. The wind was on their side. 

“I believe Bucky begs to differ,” Steve spoke up, sending them all into a burst of hysterical laughter and making Sam and Bucky red as tomatoes. Y/N laughed now too, still safely in Natasha’s arms. She turned to look at her once again before pulling away. 

“Seriously though, they do need our help. That sailor's knot is the worst I’ve ever seen in my life,” Y/N chuckled.

[irepookie]

Infinity Chapter 5: IT CAN'T BE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Summary: QUEEN AU where Roger Taylor (aka Rowan Queen) is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swear words here and there

Disclaimer: I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, but Piper, Gina and Callie are mine.

Chapter 5: Basically Row's and Piper's first day on their own, narrative shifting from normal to Row's inner train of thought.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Throughout his life, Row would regularly look back with infinite fondness and amusement at the first day he spent on his own with his daughter.

But today, as both him and his week old infant cried in each other's ears, he didn't think either of them would make it through another 24 hours, let alone long enough to look back and laugh at it.

He thought he wouldn't get to the end of the parenting book he was with at the moment with his sanity intact.

He had read many books that contradicted each other. And this one was no exception.

Some said to follow a feeding schedule.

Others to do so whenever she'd demanded it.

Some said that bathing was bad for the umbilical cord.

Some others recommend to rub it with alcohol to help it fall early.

And others said not to touch it. To simply leave it alone.

Then there was Callie and her usual phrase echoing on his head "The best thing is to follow your instincts".

But that didn't help a damn either cause his instinct was messed up.

He had also read somewhere that sharing bed was good at the beginning. That it helped preventing SIDS.

Then on the next book, that sharing room was fine at first, but that bed was a risk factor in SIDS.

But hold on.

What the hell was SIDS?

They mentioned it everywhere. He went through all the pages until he found it, only to be left breathless when finding out what what it stood for:

Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Whose exact cause was still unknown , and although there were some preventive stuff to do -on which, by the way, all the bloody books differed- there was nothing 100% safe.

So, they meant his little Piper could just fucking die for no goddamn reason, and he wouldn't be able to do nothing about it? What the fuck! It wasn't fair!

So he found himself on the phone, dialing the number he always recurred to in times of trouble.

"I think I broke her, mom" he said as soon as he heard her pick up.

"You can't break a person, Row"

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Don't be overdramatic. You didn't expect it to be easy, did ya? Or you thought she was gonna be like a doll, huh? Like those that have a switch for when you get tired of playing house?"

"No but I didn't think... I mean she was much quieter in the hospital."

"Well, darling, she must have sensed the move or something."

"You mean she doesn't like my place?"

"No, you silly. Although there's room for improvement in the style... But that's not the point. She just needs time to get used to it. Also I bet she can sense your unease."

"Uh?"

"Babies have this sixth sense when it comes to the emotions of those around them. Specially mother's... Or well, in this case, you. So if she senses you're frustrated, she'll get more distressed."

"Oh." was all he could say.

"Where is she now?"

"She's right..." He looked down at the bundle he had been holding and rocking only to realize it was a bunch of dirty clothes.

Where was she? Had he lost his daughter after 5 hours? Fuck! Fucking idiot

For a moment, he forgot where he had put her and a million terrifying thoughts flashed on his head.

She wasn't crying at the moment.

And that was good.

Right?

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was the worst thing.

Maybe one of the pillows on the sofa had fallen over her and suffocated her.

Or maybe he had mistaken her for a dirty bundle of clothes and put her in the laundry and...

"Rowan?"

"She's asleep on the bed." He suddenly remembered, peering at his bedroom to check he was right. He was. She was asleep, right in the middle of the mattress, exactly where he had placed her 10 minutes earlier.

"Then take this chance and sleep. You're good at sleeping."

It was definitely a good idea. So he hung up and tiptoed to the bedroom. He reached the bed and froze, trying to think of a way of climbing in without startling her awake.

Maybe the matress sinking at his weight woke her up. And if he got past that, perhaps if he dared to move or rolled in his sleep, he'd wake her up... Or worst; he had heard about the hundreds of kids that died overnight suffocated by their parents.

No. He decided he couldn't sleep with her.

So he got the bunch of dirty clothes and laid on the floor besides the bed, using the bundle as a pillow. He fell right off to sleep.

He woke up four hours later, and the room was still silent.

Shouldn't she need something? Shouldn't she have woken me up?

Once again, a feeling of fear invaded him as he jumped to his feet, and put a small mirror in front of her nose to make sure she was still breathing.

She was.

He sighed with relief and pecked her forehead before tiptoeing out.

He decided to make a sandwich or something, cause his stomach was roaring. Halfway through eating it, he ran his eyes through the parenting book he had left opened on the counter:

<<If your baby sleeps 4 straight hours or more wake them up for a feed; otherwise they could become dihydrated...>>

Fuck. She had been dozing for 4 hours and 20 minutes.

So he hurried into the bedroom, and leaned over the tiny bundle, a smile escaping his lips. She did know how to sleep after all. And she looked like an angel. So peaceful. Calm. It almost hurt him to disturb her. But he had to.

"Hey lil'raisin. C'mon, it's snack time" he said, gently lifting her up. "Hey, lovie. Wake up" he knew one thing he shouldn't do under any circumstances: shake her. Or make harsh movements. As that would lead to Major Danger #2:

Shaken Baby Syndrome. And that was under his control.

So he blew on her cheek instead and got her to open her eyes "Hey, Sleeping Gorgeous" he greeted, holding her up so they were face to face.

She looked up at him, directly into his eyes and something inside him melted.  

Perhaps she had finally settled. Maybe now they were both fresh and rested she'd go easy on him. He could do this.

But then her face scrunched up and she whined.

"Oh no, no, no, baby, what is it? Don't cry. Don't cry. C'mon." Then he felt a warm liquid on his hand. "Okay, okay, message received. Let's do this"

He got a towel and unswaddled her, hoping he'd be able to remember how it was done afterwards and praying for it only being number one. It was, but he hadn't folded the nappy correctly and it had leaked all over the onesie, the blanket and... His duvet.  Goddamn it.

He sighed. If he kept calm, she'd sense it. "Okay, me darl. Shh. Hold on a second.  Where... Where've I left the nappies? Where?" He looked around the room but no sight of the pack. Shit. Last time he had changed her in the living room? So it had to be there. "Okay, hang on a minute sweets. I'll be right back" he ran out to get the pack, as the wailing got louder.

"Alright. Alright. I've got it, I've got it. I'm here. Hush" he managed to do it surprisingly fast and without new incidents. "Alright, alright. Almost done. C'mere." He lifted her up, checking the nappy was properly sealed, and went to the kitchen area where he had left the last clean onesie.

On his way, he found the pinky he had been looking for earlier as well "Hey look at this. Here it was." he washed it with water and put it in her open mouth. She began to suck instinctively, calming down.

Thank. Fucking. Goodness.

He sighed in relief.

He could do this.

He laid her down in the kitchen counter, so he could wash his hands, throw his wee stained t-shirt to the washer and unfold the onesie. She squirmed a little, but kept quiet.

"Alright, let's put this on you. Please don't squirm too much, darling. I don't want to hurt you." he pleaded.

"Okay, it's all done" he announced 10 minutes later, when he finally managed to button up all the miniscule buttons on the onesie. Bloody miniscule buttons made for small mothers' hands.

"What's next? Oh yes, bottle. Alright. Coming right up"

Just when he had put the bottle to warm up, she spit the pinky, and began fussing. "Hey, love , here" he put it back, but she spit again. "You ain't buying it, are you? You're hungry, and the pinky isn't fooling you." He chuckled "Clever girl. Alright, it's almost done so don't worry, okay? It's almost there" he took her back into his arms, and paced around until the microwave beeped.

He made a mental note to never again waking her up before the bottle was done.

Never again.

"Okay Princess. Here's your cocktail, made with love." he announced, as he carried her to the couch and sat down, propping her up and watching as she immediately sucked into the nipple, face relaxing instantly.

"Yea, you were hungry right? That's what happens when you sleep through lunch time. I hope you've learned your lesson, and that next time, you let me know alright?" He grinned, as a hand closed around his hair.

But she suddenly pulled away from the nipple and began to  fuss again, halfway through the bottle "What? That's all? You're done? So much impatience for half a bottle? No, you've gotta keep going. C'mon" he offered the nipple, and she rejected it, hand pulling his hair

"Ow! Ow! Pips, no honey. Let go. C'mon. C'mon dear, let go." he set the bottle aside and used his free hand to untangle hers from his hair. She cried louder. "Hey, okay, okay, you can pull my hair off if you keep quiet. Uh? Deal?" He got more cries in response. His face fell.

"But you never did this in hospital. You didn't give Daddy hell like this. Why now? Why do you do this when I'm all alone? Am I such a bad dad? I mean I'm following every step. I'm doing my best. Please give me a break" he pleaded, changing her to an upright position.

He was doing nothing wrong, was he? He was doing everything just like he had been taught in hospital.

Well except maybe...

He had an idea and laid her on the couch "Alright, shhh. Let's try this one" he said, unbuttoning her onesie again, -making a mental note to ask Len if he could get him some bigger ones that wouldn't take forever to deal with- and bringing her back to his chest. She instinctively snuggled up, and quieted within seconds at the contact of both their skins.

And he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. "So you just wanted this? Well you should've said so earlier." He did both, out of amusement and relief.

Fuck he had cried more these past 7 hours than in the entire last decade. It was ridiculous, really. That someone so little could have such a big effect on him.

"So, where were we hon?" He offered the bottle and this time she did latch, body glued to his, and grey piercing eyes looking right through him, as if she was staring at his soul, as if she was reminding him why he was doing all this. And all the  worries that had crowed him until that moment, just disappeared.

I can do this.

He didn't detach her from his chest for the rest of the day, as that seemed to keep her at peace and he didn't mind it. Rather enjoyed it.

So he changed his peed sheets and threw the nappy away, made himself some coffee and broke the mug in the process, as he struggled to do the whole thing with one hand. Then he had to pick it up and cut himself off with one of the shattered pieces.  However, he didn't mind: it was worth it as long as she remained undisturbed.

"Are you two better?" Mom asked when she called in the evening.

"Yes, yes. We're... We're alright. Got the ultimate trick. I think we came to an understanding."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Where is she, by the way?"

"Right here." he pressed his lips on the top of her head, rested on his shoulder.

"Has she eaten properly?'

"Aye. Then spat some of it on me and... Yea. I think she's good." she had finished both bottles fairly quickly.

"And you? How are you eating?"

"Managed to eat half a sandwich. So not too bad."

"Finish it."

"I'm fine, mother."

"Row by neglecting yourself you're putting her in danger too. So eat properly and stay sane for the sake of you both, okay?"

He sighed. "Alright. I'll finish the stupid sandwich."

"And eat some food or whatever. Vitamins."

"Shit, this is like being 10 again."

They hung up and Row did as told, in spite of himself. Mom had a point.

So he finished the sandwich and grabbed an apple, eating it in bites, chewing it slowly and as silently as possible so he wouldn't disturb his daughter.

Damn it was cold. He'd have to turn the heat on, which he never did cause the bill afterwards was terrifying. But hell, both of them were half naked in February. And he had already spent a fortune on that prune sized person, might as well keep her alive and warm.

Then he laid down with her cuddled on his bare chest as she breathed in uneven, scary patterns, which Callie had told him were normal.

And soon, he found they were breathing in sync, every breath he took was three of hers. Or 5. Or none.

But it was normal, he reminded himself. Her breathing system has to develop still. She's fine.

He was exhausted, but completely wakeful at the same time, cause he was hypnotized by the sight of his little sleeping prune.

Like he would be countless nights in the future.

Because there was no better remedy for panic, no better way to put his thoughts in order and make him feel the strongest, happiest man on Earth than the sight of his daughter sleeping.

🥁🥁🥁🥁

As always, a big Heya to my only reader friend, @definitely-darcy. As you know I'm nervous about this chapter, but I enjoyed writing it a lot. So I hope you like It.

Xx ~Pookie

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 14.05: “Nightmare Logic”

THEN: Maggie. Lucifer brings her back to life but she's not okay. Maybe Jack can help us stop all the evil in the world. But then what would we do? Michael is making super monsters. The hunted become the hunters.

NOW: Maggie? Are they really still trying to make me care about Maggie? {sigh} Fine. Maggie is on a hunt, all on her own, in Claremore, Oklahoma, which she calls "delightful" but I'm pretty sure she's being sarcastic. She's in what looks like a mausoleum, hunting what she thinks is a ghoul, and we know all this because she took a camera out of her bag and started talking to it. She's wearing light pink pants that are gonna show ALL THE BLOOD, so you can tell she's still a newbie. And then the ghoul gets her. Bye, Maggie?

Title card!

Bunker. Sam seems to be leading a small hunting class. He wraps it up quickly when Dean comes in, and it seems like he still feels uneasy being a leader when Dean's around. Which makes sense. Dean's been the leader all of Sam's life. For his part, Dean actually seems to enjoy watching Sam in this new role, although he's a little sarcastic about things like hunter check-ins ("that's adorable!"). He asks Sam if he's getting any sleep, and we know the answer is "no" because Sam doesn't really answer. He's got 16 hunters on case, not including Cas and Jack (who are in Sarasota) or Mobby (who are in Texas.) You know, I'm okay with Cas being gone, but I'm not okay with him taking Jack with him. Just saying.

Dean thinks the new people don't need this much help, since they all survived a war, but Sam explains that a war is not hunting. Which begs the question, why are they all hunting anyway? Sam's right - the angel war wouldn't really prepare them for hunting monsters. So why are they doing it? Just because they live in the bunker now, so they have to be hunters? Is that why Maggie's out there in her damn pink pants trying not to get killed again?

As Sam's talking, he gets a notification that Maggie missed check-in. Ruh roh! {Sidebar: Seems like having to call in at a pre-scheduled time would be really inconvenient for hunting, so I've decided this just means she has to check in at least once every 24 hours.} Next we see the guys in the library, with Dean calling Maggie and not getting an answer as Sam works on the laptop. He has pulled up footage from Maggie's bodycam, which surprises Dean and me, but Sam says having the new hunters watch each other hunt is the best way to learn. You know, I'm thrilled with Sam's little vocational training program here, but I think the best way to learn would be to send the newbies out with experienced hunters, instead of sending them on their own and putting bodycams on them so everyone else can watch them die. But what do I know?

Sam says the bodycams upload directly to the server, so I guess Maggie had wifi in a mausoleum somewhere in delightful Claremore, Oklahoma. Of course, if Sam provided them, they'll have wifi everywhere, so let's not concern ourselves with minor details. They watch the ghoul from Maggie's POV, and Sam's clearly upset and afraid she's dead. Dean points that she might be okay, because 1) they didn't see her die, and b) ghouls are scavengers that don't normally feed on the living. Sam says "Yeah, but remember the ones that killed and ate Adam and his mom? And were eating me alive before you killed them?" No, he doesn't say that. But he should. Someone should. Instead he just asks why a ghoul would attack her. Because it's a monster, Sam.

(Hey, remember when Sam was tied to the table and the ghouls were eating him? That was a good episode.)

But this one has several good points too, including the fact that Sam looks like he might be growing the beard again. (I know he's not. Let me dream.)

Cut to a nice transition video of the Impala zooming down the road, and then the brothers in the cemetery where Maggie was last seen. Dean comments that a private cemetery must be nice, because it would be convenient. Yeah, when you die as often as these two, a cemetery in the back yard would be handy. On the other hand, they're usually not buried, so. Maggie was working this cemetery in the first place because some kids said online that a walker tried to end them. Sam then tries to mansplain (Samsplain?) walkers to Dean, who is very aware of what they are.

They enter the mausoleum and go down a flight of stairs. Damn, this thing is big. I've seen little mausoleums in cemeteries before, but nothing like this. They find drag marks on the floor. "But no blood," Dean says, "which means Maggie could still be alive." But those pink pants are gonna be really dirty.

(Hey, remember the last time Dean and Sam and Maggie were in a dark underground place, and someone got attacked and dragged away? That was a good episode.)

(Are you really doing this again? We get it. The show repeats itself and has frequent subtle and less-sutble references to older, better episodes. Can you stop now?)

(Fine. Geez.)

Sam doesn't think that's likely, because "ghouls don't take prisoners." I mean, I guess Sam wasn't technically a prisoner when he was tied to a table, but he does at least have to acknowledge that they won't necessarily eat you quickly. Dean's being oddly optimistic, saying that it might have taken her elsewhere to eat her, and maybe "hasn't finished the job yet." So, maybe only her arms and legs have been eaten? Well, that's encouraging. They're interrupted by a groundskeeper, so Sam introduces them as Harrison and Byrne (Talking Heads, so that had to be Sam's choice, not Dean's) from the Historical Preservation Society, sent by the city who wants to make the property a historic site. Oh, and can they speak to the owner?

When we get a view of the house, it's overgrown by weeds and out-of-control shrubs, so I think that groundskeeper needs to concentrate more on his gardening and less on who might be lurking in the convenient private cemetery. The somewhat geeky owner is very excited, saying he always knew this house had historical significance. He invites them in, but is surprised to see them, since it seems like the two who are already there should be enough. Whaaa? They walk into the living room to see the other two "historical preservationists" - Mary and Bobby.

And Bobby is wearing Michael's hat! RUN, BOYS, RUN!

Sam pointedly says he wishes they'd checked with "the main office" before coming all the way out here. {Sidebar: You know, the Show plays fast and loose with geography on a regular basis, but I like that Sam and Dean came from down Kansas and Mary and Bobby came up from Texas and they met in Oklahoma in a completely plausible timeline.} Bobby says they don't need permission from the main office to look at houses, "especially when the main office is run by a bunch of idjits."

OH WHAT THE HELL FAKE BOBBY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS.

Mary pulls Sam away for a private talk while Dean questions the owner, Neil. But it turns out he's not actually the owner, he's only the nurse the owner, Mr. Rawling. Meanwhile, Mary explains to Sam that she and Bobby had been talking Maggie through her hunt, giving her pointers. (Gee, maybe you shouldn't have sent her off alone, Sam.) When she stopped texting, they got worried and came to check on her. Sam asks if they found anything, but before she can answer, Dean calls Sam into Mr. Rawling's room. He's unconscious, in a hospital bed, and they both agree that he looks exactly like the ghoul they saw on Maggie's video. (Which is odd, but what's even odder is that Mr. Rawling is getting a blood transfusion. Why?) If the ghoul is here, they wonder, where's Maggie?

Cut to Maggie, alive and conscious somewhere. She's strung up by her wrists and surrounded by blood bags. Hmmm. Looks more like a djinn to me.

Back at the house, Neil explains that Rawling had a stroke. Just then, Rawling's daughter Sasha shows up. She is considerably less excited to hear that the National Historic Preservation Society is interested in the house. She doesn't even know how long her father has lived here, and she's just here to wrap things up before he dies. She says it's been "a really long week," so I guess the stroke happened recently. And I'm pretty sure old Rawlings would still be in the hospital if his stroke was that recent, so put another check in the "odd" column. Sam does his best empathetic face, but she doesn't want to deal with the National Historic Preservation Society right now and asks them to leave.

Have you ever noticed that when Jared narrows his eyes a little bit, it emphasizes their tilt? Because I have.

The team regroups at the Impala. On the one hand, I like them working on their hypotheses and eliminating monsters based on their extensive knowledge. On the other hand, none of their extensive knowledge seems to have much basis in canon. First Bobby declares Rawlings "not a ghoul" because he "checked him out pretty good back there" and didn't find any bites. So I guess you stripped the old guy down under Neil's watchful eye, Fake Bobby? I don't think so. Mary suggests a shifter, but Dean says shifters don't hang out in graveyards. Sam suggests possession, which Nasty Fake Bobby dismisses because a demon wouldn't have put him back in bed after using his body, and he sprinkled him with holy water anyway. Dean calls him on his even-grumpier-than-usualness...

Something on your mind, Bobby?

Yeah. Your brother. He let Maggie come here when she had no idea what she was walking into. She wasn't ready.

Oh, come on. When is anybody ever ready?

You are or you ain't. A real leader would have seen that a mile away.

Well, okay then! Clearly I was at fault for accepting AU Bobby so quickly. He's not our Bobby at all. He's not just adorably surly, he's mean. And he's wearing that hat. And now I'm seriously starting to wonder if this is really even Fake Bobby. Did he pick that hat up at the church, after Dean took it off? Is that when Michael made him his vessel? Is Michael that attached to the damn hat? Is the hat a possessed object? Something evil is afoot, and THE HAT IS PART OF IT. I'M SURE.

This is a pretty scene, but my favorite part is Dean's "why are you being mean to my Sammy, old man?" face.

Mary smacks Fake Bobby back down, and then says they should split up. She takes Sam. Aw, this is twice that she's pulled Sam aside to take care of him. I like anyone taking care of Sammy. As she and Sam walk, she tells him not to listen to Bobby, but Sam wonders if he's right about everything. She says no, he's born to do this, and he could respond with "Actually, the only thing I was born to do was to be Lucifer's vessel," but he doesn't.

Mary continues, saying that if Bobby can't see what a natural born leader and generally awesome human being Sam is, it's not the only thing he's missing. Oh god, is she talking about what I think she's talking about? Do I even want to KNOW what Bobby is missing? Sam thinks the same thing, and segues into a talk about their relationship. Mary says that ever since they've been back (from AU Land, I guess), Bobby hunts all the time. "He won't take a break, not even for s-" and I swear to Chuck I thought she was going to say for sex, but she says "for a second." And then they have this exchange:

Bobby's not open like your dad.

Wait. Like MY dad?

Okay, at least he's not like your dad was when I knew him.

Oh my Chuck, Mary and Sam are talking about John. Poor Sam, who wasn't even allowed to talk about his mother for most of his life, now gets to talk TO her. About his father. Someone hold me. It's also funny and sad that the John he knew is so, so different from the John she knew. And now I'm imagining drunk Sam and Dean telling stories about their childhood, and Mary being absolutely horrified.

Anyway. Mary says Bobby has "walls" and she doesn't know if she can handle that, "if I even put myself out there again." Oh, wait, so she wasn't out there? So she and Bobby aren't actually in a relationship? They're just flirting and making googoo eyes and hunting together? Huh.

Sam makes an uncomfortable face, and she realizes he's not the best audience for this discussion, and it's all very weird and sweet. I'm going to stick with Mary and Sam rather than going back and forth like they do in the episode. Sam tells her that "our Bobby" wasn't very open either, at least not at first, and that he had to kill his wife and they had no kids. And Fake Bobby's walls are probably there for a good (bad) reason. Oh, Sam. You know about walls and reasons, don't you? He suggests that, if she cares about him, she won't give up on Bobby and his walls. Then they see something that looks like a pile of cloth. It's a jacket or something, and it comes with a pile of IDs - FBI, DEA, Forest Service. Must be a hunter!

Meanwhile, Bobby and Dean are having this talk:

You think I was too hard on your brother back there.

He's doing his best. He's doing better than his best. This whole hunter 5-0 thing, he's killing himself over it. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, he grew himself one of those Kenny Rogers beards... no offense.

How much do I love Dean standing up for Sam, noticing everything he's doing? SO MUCH. I mean, I'm sure part of it is the classic "no one gets to talk smack about my little brother except me," but part of it is that he really is proud of Sam and what he's doing. And really is worried about him.

Dean and Fake Bobby come up on an old shed and open the door. It seems to be full of pelts. Dean goes inside, but Bobby sees a man in the woods and runs off toward him. Without saying anything to Dean. Dammit, Fake Bobby. Dean finds a body. Must be a dead hunter! He turns toward Bobby, just now realizing he's been left alone, and then something attacks him from behind. It's the old man Rawling ghoul! Dean grabs something off the windowsill, I can't tell what, and stabs the ghoul with it. The ghoul dissolves into dust. Huh. Weird. Bobby returns to find Dean covered in ghoul dust.

Back at the house, Sasha is going over some paperwork when she hears noises that seem to be coming from upstairs. She goes up and wanders down an oddly angular hallway. She opens a super-squeaky door and a vampire leaps out. On first watch, I only noticed the teeth, but on rewatch, it's one of the AU-style vampires, with the big pointy ears. She flees and falls {Sidebar: At this point, The Husband asked why women are always falling when they run away from monsters; I said it's the high heels} but as she cowers on the floor and awaits her doom, she realizes nothing is after her. The vampire is gone.

Sam and Mary are back at the Rawling house, and while it was bright daylight when they were wandering around and Sasha was being attacked, it's dark now. She explains that whatever she saw couldn't have been real, because it looked like a vampire, and Sam tells her she's not crazy. She gets the "monsters are real" speech, and Neil is more disappointed that they're not from the Historical Society than he is to learn that monsters are real. Then Dean shows up.

You're not gonna believe what I found in the shed.

You hunt monsters!

Oh, good. You told them.

What did you find in the shed?

Dead guy.

Hee! This little scene just cracks me up. Dead Guy matches the fake IDs, and Sam tells Dean they think something is killing hunters. Mary notices Bobby's gone, and Dean says he went to get something out of the truck. Alone??? She runs out after him. Dean tells Sam about Ghoul!Rawling attacking him, and Sasha's all, "he's right there," and Dean turns toward Rawling but all we can see is the foot of his bed, so I'm fairly sure it's going to turn out he's not right there after all. (Spoiler alert: I'm wrong.) Sam tells Dean about the vampire, but since the vampire didn't feed on Sasha, and the Ghoul!Rawling "died weird," Sam suggests maybe these aren't monsters at all (relieved sigh from Neil) but some kind of manifestation (not-relieved, confused looks from Neil and Sasha) like B.J. Hunnicut Fred Jones, who made all the Looney Tunes violence.

(Hey, remember when Fred Jones made the Looney Tunes violence, and Dean's gun had a flag that said BANG? That was awesome.)

(I can't help it, guys, the Show is feeding them directly to me!!!)

Sasha assures them her father is narcissistic but not psychic, and Dean wonders why he would manifest a vampire to scare his own daughter. Well, I mean, sounds like he was a bad father, so. When Sasha tells them what happened, Dean notices that she was scared away from what she was investigating, which is probably the reason the vampire was... manifested. Sam volunteers to go upstairs and investigate. Dean hands him a machete.

Downstairs, Dean sharpens another machete while Sasha downs some pills, and I know how you feel, Sasha. I've felt like cracking open the Xanax this week myself. She vents about her father and reveals that, because he was gone all the time, she was the one who found her mother after she (I assume) killed herself. "You what the most ridiculous part is?" she says. "I worshipped him when I was a kid. Didn't know any better. He's the only family I have left." Oh, gee, who else in this room can relate to that? Dean offers her some advice, which is to let it go. "The past is... nothing you can do about it now, so. It's just baggage. Let it go, you'll feel a lot lighter." She asks if that's what he does, and he says "I try. Every single day." Oh Dean!

Upstairs, Sam walks carefully down the oddly angular hallway (really, it makes NO SENSE) and opens the door Sasha had been peeking through. It's access to the attic. Sam peers around with his flashlight find finds old toys and a spooky taxidermied animal and blood bags and Maggie, strung up like the victim of a djinn. He pulls a needle from her neck and she wakes up, saying "it's here." There's a growl behind Sam and then the AU vampire attacks. {Sidebar: I wonder what kind of PTSD flashbacks Sam's going to have the next time he tries to go to sleep?} Sam hits it with the machete and it explodes into a cloud of dust, just like Dean's ghoul.

While all of this is happening, Mary goes outside and finds Bobby isn't at his truck. We see him walking in the dark, and then the man he ran after earlier comes out from behind a tree. His eyes are burned out.

Daniel?

Hey, Dad.

OH SNAP.

Bobby is shocked to see him, since apparently he died in AU Land. He kicks the crap out of Fake Bobby and then pins him to a tree with an angel blade through the shoulder, even though he doesn't stab him nearly hard enough to go through the tree, and even though Bobby remains completely level instead of hanging from that point. Mary shows up and Bobby yells at her to run. She shoots Dead!Daniel instead, but bullets don't do anything. As Dead!Daniel chokes Mary, Bobby pulls the angel blade out and falls down from the tree. He says "I'm sorry" and stabs Dead!Daniel with the angel blade, which causes him to explode into a cloud of dust.

Downstairs, Dean and Sasha go into Rawling's room, where Neil is fiddling with something. Dean finally asks what I've been asking the whole time, which is, why is the old man getting a blood transfusion? Neil says it keeps up his iron. Dean gives him a funny look and then asks Sasha to go make him a sandwich. She's all, what, seriously? He mouths go and flicks his eyes at Neil and she finally gets it and she's all, yes, that sounds like a great idea, I will go make you a sandwich.

He's so not subtle at all. I love him.

Dean pulls his gun and says he recognizes the rig now, from when he was hooked up to it. "You're not giving him blood. You're taking it." We see a flashback from "What Is and What Should Never Be," with Dean strung up in the djinn's warehouse.

(HEY! REMEMBER WHEN DEAN WAS CAPTURED BY A DJINN AND HAD THAT WHOLE DREAM LIFE? THAT WAS AMAZING.)

{Sidebar: The thing is, this would never work. The blood bag is hanging above Rawling's head. If you've ever given blood, you know the collection bag is hung below the needle. Your blood's not going to flow upstream. Gravity, people.}

"You're a djinn," Dean says. "But you knew that already, didn't you?" says Neil, as his eyes flash blue and his tattoos briefly appear. Dean asks why he's going after hunters, and he says "Because you told me to! Is this still part of the game?" Um, whaaa? Neil thinks Dean is Michael. The Michael who told him to set up a trap for hunters. He thought this was just a test. The new power Michael gave him is the ability to read minds and see nightmares just by touching his victim. And he can bring those nightmares into the world and make them do whatever he wants. Rawling's nightmare was dying alone in this house, and Neil is making it come true. Maggie's nightmares were the AU vampires. Ah, that explains why the monsters disintegrated - they weren't real. And it also explains why the AU vampires were over here. They came from Maggie's head.

Dean is still threatening Neil with the gun, and Neil says it won't kill him, and he's pretty sure Dean doesn't have a knife dipped in lamb's blood. (Silver, Neil, it has to be silver.) Dean does what I always wish they'd do in a "your mere gun won't kill me" situation, and shoots him in the knee, cause it's gotta slow him down, right? But it doesn't actually slow him much. He lunges for Dean and says he won't hurt "Michael's favorite monkey suit," but he does want to see his nightmares. He smacks a hand on Dean's forehead and is horrified. Neil backs away and says "you... you..." and then Dean says "I don't have a blade dipped in lamb's blood, but I can improvise," and smashes Neil's skull with a bookend. Okay, but. If that would work, why would you need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood? Isn't it a lot easier to destroy the head?

It does work, but Neil has some evil plot to reveal before he dies. "You think I'm the only one? The only trap? He made dozens of us. Just out there, waiting for you, and your family." Dean shuts him up with the bookend, and then unloads his gun into him for good measure.

So, let's talk about this. What did the djinn see? I mean, Dean's been to Hell. His nightmares are pretty awful. Was that it? Or was it something else? Something, someone, maybe, hiding deep inside?

Aftermath! Dean pulls the needle out of Rawling's arm. It's daylight now, so I wonder why he waited for the sun to come up before ending the poor old guy's misery. He tells Sasha that he'll come back around after the djinn's poison wears off.

Back to the bunker, which is full of refugee hunters. Everybody joyfully greets Maggie and her dirty pink pants. "You did this," Dean tells Sam. "You got her home." Sam smiles, but it's quick and kind of sad.

Elsewhere in the bunker, Mary is bandaging Bobby. He tells her that he was a hunter in AU Land because his wife was killed by a monster, and then his son Daniel was taken by angels because Bobby got him involved in the angel war. He feels guilty about it, but it's not like the kid would have been safe even if he hadn't been fighting. Bobby always thought he'd die in the war, but he didn't (does that mean he considers the war over? he's never going back? because there's still a bunch of angels over there), and now he's "considering other options." So the constant hunting has been a way of trying to get killed. Nice of you to drag Mary into that, Fake Bobby. She tells him she's not letting him give up, and they'll find another way to live.

Sam's reading at the map table (wearing that magnificent red plaid shirt) when Dean comes in with a couple of beers. He says he talked to Maggie and she "can't wait to get back in the saddle." Sam's surprised to hear it, and I'm surprised to hear that Dean was the one to have this conversation with Maggie. How close do you suppose they are? Because really, the most time they've spent together was the long walk to Dayton after Sam was killed, and I can't imagine Dean was a pleasant companion. I'd think she'd be terrified of him at this point. Anyway. Dean says "she learned from the best," and again, Dean noticing and commenting on Sam's actions just makes me melt into a happy little puddle.

Sam's red plaid shirt also makes me melt into a happy little puddle.

Bobby and Mary come in and say "we need to talk," and the next thing we see is Sam arranging for them to stay at Donna's cabin. Which OF COURSE has a garden gnome. Bobby calls Sam aside and Sam is SO NERVOUS to be talking to him alone, and dammit, Jared, you break my heart on a regular basis. Bobby says "this job is no picnic, and I don't know if I ever really had it in me, but you do." You know, I think it's great that people are acknowledging what a good hunter and leader Sam is. But I just can't forget how much he didn't want to do this. I know he's accepted it now, and he claims to love it, but when someone tells him he's good at it, his smile is too tentative, too fleeting. I'm probably reading too much into it, but to me it says "Yeah, I'm good at the one thing I tried to get out of doing, yay me."

Mary and Dean say their goodbyes, and he actually seems to be okay with it this time. We do get the sad piano music, so we know it's significant. But the door slams shut and Sam doesn't flinch, so all is well.

(Hey, remember that time Mary slammed the door and Sam flinched? I loved that.)

Bye, Mommy! Bye, New Daddy!

Next we see the guys calling every hunter they know, warning them about super monsters. "Use the buddy system," Sam insists. Dean feels guilty about the whole thing, and says he knows it's not his fault, and he's trying to move on from "what I - what we - what he did," so it doesn't sound like he's moved on much at all. Sam says they'll work harder.

How, Sam? You get three hours of sleep a night.

Then I'll sleep two.

Oh Sam! I love his "I will do anything you need, even if it kills me" determination. He insists they'll find Michael and kill him, and Dean asks how. Sam brings up Monster!Kaia's spear again, and WHAT ABOUT THE FREAKING ARCHANGEL BLADE???? WHY HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN IT????? But the scene ends with Dean sadly walking away (something else I love? Dean's "I'm gonna pretend I believe you can fix this but I know you can't" expression) and Sam sadly biting his lip and oh, so much sad.

So much pretty, pretty sadness.

So! A little bit of nonsense, but mostly a pretty decent episode. I do wonder why they brought up Jack's powers, and the possibility of "ending all of this," in the THEN, since it wasn't addressed at all. But we got Chief Sam getting the respect he deserves. Some nice brotherly stuff. But most importantly, this episode made me realize that if monsters are the Big Bads this season, that means mytharc episodes can also be MOTW episodes. Praise Chuck. This could turn out to be a pretty decent season after all.

Please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!

[plantanarchy]

Hey man, this may seem like a very naive question, but I was wondering if you had advice about entering into a career in horticulture. I am currently hating doing a PhD and thinking constantly about a complete career switch - I've become disillusioned with medical research but having got this far I don't know what other job I'd enjoy. The thing I love outside of work is growing plants, reading up on botany and working with my hands. Is it just pastoral fantasy to want to work in horticulture?

Well, to be fair, botany and horticulture are two entirely different fields. Botany is plant science, while horticulture is more... how to apply bits of that science to grow plants and usually how to make those plants profitable. So horticulture jobs include nursery work like I do or work in plant breeding, distributing, farming and orchards, garden trials, etc. Botanists are more likely to work at university or research settings with or without field work and do more theoretical study that may sometimes inform horticulture practices but isn’t directly about growing plants.

If you have an educational foundation in biology, botany/plant science would probably not be a hard shift. Though as somebody who literally hasn’t taken a bio class since 10th grade, I don’t have any experience at all on that side of things. A lot of botany programs are graduate programs that require an undergraduate degree in biology. Horticulture degrees have a completelyyyy different focus and are more about practical application. Which, to be fair, I also don’t have much experience with because I’ve never actually had any formal horticulture training because so much of hort really is just... getting your hands dirty.

The thing is, the face of the horticulture industry is changing pretty fast so right now it’s not a sure thing what it will even look like in a decade or two. A lot of smaller, traditional businesses are starting to go under as corporate wholesale horticulture giants replace them and as people’s priorities change. People my age and younger definitely still like plants and gardening but not in the same ways that our parents and grandparents did. So yeah, I think it’s a cool field to work in from a lot of angles and due to my retail horticulture experience, I know there would be a (potentially seasonal) job for me anywhere I went buuut that may not always be the case as the industry changes.

So yeah, advice for getting into horticulture is to just try to find a job somewhere. A horticulture degree or certification may help but definitely isn’t necessary. And depending on where you live, most jobs will be seasonal. A lotttt of my coworkers are only part time employees actively working in spring and early summer and then get let go until next year. I’m one of three full-time greenhouse workers and even I’m currently laid off. A lot of that seasonal work is just menial labor like watering, plugging, pinching, transplanting, hauling and cleaning plants.

So good thing is you could definitely try to get a seasonal nursery/greenhouse/farm job for the spring and see if you enjoy it? And then if you don’t, they won’t need you long anyway. The best time to start looking is late winter, very early spring.

And then beyond retail/wholesale jobs there are also jobs such as... reps for big hort companies who have to know a whole lot about growing the crops in order to troubleshoot for clients, working for your local agriculture extension which offers resources for farmers and garden centers in the region and serves as educational outreach, and a whole bunch of marketing and communications type work (which I also do despite being absolutely not trained in it). So idk it depends.

[mysticvampyre]

Fallen Angel

Have this little gem on my FanFiction.net but decided to post it here in the spirit of Halloween so... here ya go! Enjoy!

FALLEN ANGEL PART 1

"Out of the way! Move it!" A girl shouted as she pushed past a crowd full of tourists that filled the boardwalk.

"Stop her, someone stop that girl. She stole my purse!" An overweight woman shouted as she huffed along trying to catch up to the girl. The woman bent at the waist holding her knee as she tried to catch her breath. She knew she couldn't catch her and her pleas of help fell on deaf ears seeing as no one else made a move to go after the girl in question.

You see that kid there running like the Flash. Yeah that's me. What can I say. I'm not usually a bad kid, it's not like I took the Rosanne Barr look-alike purse for fun. I was broke. I need the money. Hey being a runaway in Santa Carla isn't easy. Nor is it cheap. Especially since I ran over three hundred and forty-eight miles to get here. Why did I run to Santa Carla? I've asked myself the same thing since the day I first came to this little beach town nicknamed the "Murder Capital of the World." I can't explain it. I just had and unexplained pull to this place. Anyhow let's get back to me and see how my little adventure is panning out shall we.

The girl took off and disappeared into some empty alley. Soon She tipped the purse out onto the ground looking for anything useful. She grabbed really the only thing that would be any good to her. Cold hard cash. She left the rest of the contents of the purse strewn on the ground before peeking her head out of the alley. She gave a quick look around checking to see if anyone was tailing her. When she was satisfied no one was she stepped back onto the boardwalk cramming the cash into her dirty and faded jean shorts pocket.

She spotted a surf shop out of the corner of her eye and made her way over to it. Walking through the beaded curtain that hung there as a door she looked around. Typical shop. The hottest, newest 80's fashions hung all over the shop and the mannequin that littered the store. Behind the counter was some teen girl with overly teased hair who wore too many bright colors and an oversized shirt that slipped off one shoulder. She sat there popping her gum rather loudly reading the latest teen magazine. There were your typical surfer dudes drooling over the new boards while in another corner of the shop were your typical bleach blond air headed valley girls drooling over them.

She shook her head as she grabbed some clothes off some of the racks and made her way over to the counter where the girl with the mile high hair sat now attempting to tune a tinny sounding radio.

"Hey is there somewhere I can try this stuff on?" The girl looked up and rolled her eyes.

"It's like over there." She said pointing before going back to playing with the radio.

"It's like over there." the girl mimicked as she walked toward the back of the shop where the girl at the register pointed. She walked into one of the little cubicles and pulled the curtain closed behind her. Tossing the clothes on the makeshift bench next to her she began to peel her top off over her head. She then slipped off the shorts she wore taking the money from them before tossing them to join the rest of the clothes in the corner. She picked up the brand new denim shorts, turning them in her hands she looked for the price tag. She wrapped it around her fingers and popped off the tag.

"Oops looky the tag conveniently popped off." She said before slipping them on and shoving the money in the pocket. Next she took off her bra and slipped on the red and black bikini top. Over that she put on a grey hooded long sleeve jacket that had Santa Carla written across the back. She removed the tags from that too. Gathering the close she had taken off she walked from the dressing room walking right past the girl at the counter who thankfully was now distracted by a surfer guy. She headed out the door and down to the beach in her new threads.

Once on the beach she headed to the shower stalls that lined this particular section. She reached out pulling a towel off the corner of one of the stalls as she passed. When she found an empty stall she turned it on and dumped the clothes she had worn into it. She gave them a quick rinse and brought them to the shore. The sun was still high in the sky as she laid the towel she pilfered out. She dropped her clothes on one end to dry and she took the hooded shirt off and lay next to the clothes.

Yes I know. I'm too good at being sneaky. What can I say living on the streets you learn to survive or your screwed. Not in the good way either. So, anyhow. There I was soaking up the sun. Little did I know that this would be one of the last few days I would actually see the sun again. I was on a one way collision course with fate. I know you're probably sitting there like "What the frack girl?!" Just watch you'll see.

After a few hours the girl got up and took her now dry clothes and tied them up in the zip top jacket. The sun had set now and it was getting cooler. Walking back onto the boardwalk the girl decided to just hang out. She hit up a hotdog stand there and ordered a hotdog and soda. She walked along while she ate. As she passed a stand she reached behind the counter and snatched a plastic bag. She tossed her garbage in the nearest trash bin before untying the jacket and dumping the contents into the bag. She tossed the jacket on and kept moving. She spotted a carousel not too far so she decided to go and people watch.

She stood there watching the carousel make its way round and round then she noticed something. A group of guys were walking around the carousel. She normally wouldn't have paid them any mind but there was something different about them. They walked with an air about them. They sauntered between the horses She took note of them one by one. Their was a tall platinum blond with a mullet dressed head to toe in black. Behind him came a tall native looking guy with long dark hair in a leather jacket and nothing else underneath. The one that followed him another tall guy with dirty blond hair he screamed rocker to her the hair the clothes everything. Finally behind him was a shorter blond with curly hair a boyish face and an impish grin. He had on a bright color jacket that you could spot a mile off.

The carousel turned and they disappeared from her line of view. When they had come back around she had noticed the platinum blond trying to flirt with this blond who was sitting next to a rather muscly buff guy. She knew they were out of earshot of her but she couldn't help from putting her two cents in. "Seriously, dude you must have a death wish." The platinum blond was shoved back by the guy with the woman. His friends jumped to his defense. As did the huge mans. Again she lot sight of them as the carousel turned.

She ran around to the other side wanting to know what was going on. By the time she got there, there was a rent a cop on the ride with a nightstick around the platinum haired ones throat. She couldn't hear what was going on but one by one the boys jumped down off the ride before the platinum blond was released and calmly walked away before he too hopped off the ride. As they were walking away the girl walked past and accidentally bumped up against the dark-haired one. He gave her a quick glance and she gave him another once over before walking off.

Off in a quiet corner of a secluded part of the boardwalk stood a small booth. Outside stood a sign. Painted in big block letters and bright colors. Fortunes told $5. As the girl walked past she took a quick glance at the sign. "Oh what the hell. Why not. She'll probably just tell me a bunch of general hokum and nonsense but I'm bored."

She stepped into the tiny booth and looked around as her surroundings. It was all dimly lit with candles flickering. She could smell incense wafting through the air in thick clouds. In the center of the small room was a table covered in a celestial designed table-cloth with two chairs and smack dab in the middle of the table was a crystal ball. She walked over and took a seat.

"Hello! Is anyone here?" She called out. From a side room a small elderly woman walked out from a beaded curtain separating the room. She walked over to the empty seat and sat down. The girl was a little taken back when she looked at the woman. She sat there and stared at the girl. Her eyes drifting over her. "Don't be afraid deary I won't hurt you."

"Your.. your..."

"Eye? Yes it does unnerve some. The visions come clearer since this happened the gypsy woman said pointing to her left eye that was clouded over. She was blind in that eye. "Now let's get down to why you're here deary." She handed her a small bundle of herbs.

"Whats this for? The girl asked.

"Sage, burn it and use this feather to blow the smoke around and smudge the room." The girl gave a shrug and did what she was told.

Yeah I know I'm not all that big a believer in psychic, ghost, ghouls and things that go bump in the night but I figured just roll with it. What harm could come of it. Well . . . let's find out if I'm right or not.

Once the room was good and smelling of burnt sage mixing with the smell of sandalwood incense the old woman asked for the girl's hand. She gave it to her and the woman traced a finger over it. "You have a very long life line. In fact it is an unusually long one. I have never seen one like this. I also see love in your future. Let's see now. Stare into the crystal ball and relax."

The girl did so. She just saw the wisps of the smoke from the incense twirl round the ball. "Yes, yes I see. I see a tall, dark, handsome man he is beautiful but deadly. Not what he appears. It will be a child that brings you together."

"That I so general that could be anyone."

"You met him. Tonight by the carousel." The young girls face dropped.

"What?" there is no way you could have known that."

"Ah but I do child, but beware. There is also danger ahead. Red will run when he is near. Be cautious, there are things in this town that are not what they seem. Remember one more thing child. The last sometimes does not stay in the past. Now it is time you go my child."

The woman stood and walked back behind the curtain. As she did a gust of wind blew through the room blowing the candles in the room out. The girl felt a shiver run down her spine as she left the money on the table and all but ran out of the little booth.

She ran out onto the boardwalk again and barreled down this girl who was walking with a young boy. She stuck out a hand and helped her up. "Sorry bout that." The girl she picked up was dressed in gypsy fashion and had poofy dark hair. She didn't say anything in reply she just looked at the girl who knocked her over. The girl who ran out of the booth walked over to the boy. "You okay kid?" He just nodded his head as she tousled his hair. His eyes lit up and he gave her a small smile. "Good to know. Sorry bout knocking your sister down." She said before walking off into the night to try to find a place to sleep.

[thymika]

The Weight of a Crown 3: Bubble World

I was never fond of diaries until I wrote the first word into this notebook. A diary is something most girls carry around, it's usually a pink notebook with a bunch of notes about their prince charming. They protect their diary with their lives and lose their minds if someone reads it. I'm personally sharing this diary with all of you for different reasons. Our world is filled with heroes, those that have flashy superpowers and otherworldly strength. Many can fly, are agile, shoot arrows with perfection, and others are simply gifted. A hero isn't defined by their ability to carry a car over their shoulders or be able to destroy a meteorite. A hero can simply be an ordinary person, with an ordinary job, and with no superpowers. That's why I'm writing this diary, to possibly convey a message of inspiration.

I'm not going to lie; Yes, I also have my princess charming, and also write stupid things for no reason. I'm a mortal, what do you expect? This diary might be for inspirational purposes, but this is still my diary and I have every right to write my own nonsense. I'm just trying to be funny, bear with me...

Continuing with my story, it's time for a little bit of history. For thousands of years, our country Emerald Woodland has been divided into two sections. Recently, it has been officially stated that the North and South are separate countries, both carrying the same name with the exception of each side having the title North, or South. The North is filled with darkness because they abandoned their nature as Moon Elves. The South is where the good guys live, or that's how I used to call it. The Tree of Life is located near the Moon Lake, which is sort of in between the North and the South. My great grandfather decided that the Moon Lake belongs to us Moon Elves, therefore the Tree of Life and Moon Lake are still inside our Southern territory.

Now that I have explained some boring facts about my country, we can move on. My life was surrounded by every sort of luxury. As a royal child, my siblings and I led comfortable lives inside the palace at the Tree of Life. Suffering was something that never crossed my mind. Yes, I struggled because I am not the perfect son, but none was compared to the pain I witnessed at the young age of seven. I held tight on to Karina's hand till she stopped crying. We were exposed to some sunlight because I remember seeing Karina's damped face and reddened eyes. Her hands trembled and were cold. I felt helpless, unable to fight back or do anything to make her feel better. Uncertainty was waiting, and danger as well. I grabbed her face and quickly kissed her left cheek, close to her lips. The surprised girl widened her eyes and immediately stopped trembling. I did it without thinking, without analyzing the situation. With all the innocence in the world, she smiled at me and I couldn't resist the urge to smile back. Yes, we were scared and sad, but during those seconds, we felt happy.

The car stopped, and we felt how the sack was lifted and thrown somewhere. Our legs crashed against a hard surface, and both groaned and cried in pain. Someone opened the sack and a hand grabbed me by my hair. He pulled me up till I felt like my hair was ripping off from my head. The man threw me inside a dirty cage, Karina was treated equally and the man slammed her against my body. I felt dizzy from the impact, and slowly tried to regain my conscience. Our cage was hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling, there were other kids in cages. Some were crawling on the floor like dogs, they had thick collars around their neck. I couldn't comprehend the situation, the panic was swallowing me and taking over my body. I heard howls and screeches from the neighboring kids, the smell was pungent and triggered my stomach. I wanted to get out as soon as possible. I turned to Karina, expecting some sort of comfort, but she looked as if she had given up. "We have to get out of here," I said, pulling from her wrist, "it's too late," "what? Too late for what? We can't stay here!" "They won't let us out. These people do bad things to children."

I grasped on to the bars of the cage and shook them, "let us go!" I yelled, but nobody came to rescue us. Karina pulled me from my shirt and frowned, "no one will help us!" "Someone should," "no one cares!" "People should care! There are kids everywhere!" She stared at me for a moment and then slowly lowered her head, "not everyone does—" My world suddenly collapsed. Everything I learned at home wasn't entirely true. Not everyone was nice, not all said please and thank you. Not everyone was polite and mindful of others. That's when I realized that there were bigger things that I didn't understand despite my years of reading hundreds of books. I was living in a bubble far away from the real world.

I held on to Karina's trousers and replied, "but I care." I remember her stare, her eyes twinkled with some sort of hope. There were humans, orcs and some others which I couldn't recognize, kids from all over were stuck in cages like us. A human boy swung his cage and said, "whoever gets out from here wins." I didn't understand his words, therefore I leaned over and said, "how do we get out?" "Those guys will pick someone and take us out, eventually," "really?" "Yep. It's like being adopted, they take the best-behaved kid. We should behave." The rest of the kids smiled and stayed still. I didn't understand what he meant back then, but now I do. He was the eldest of the group and wanted to calm the younger kids who were struggling. Our situation was no game, and no one was being adopted. Somehow, we played along due to our innocence and managed to stay positive through our difficulties.

The room was flooded with smelly red and black paint; now I understand it wasn't paint, but my mind couldn't wrap the thought of blood surrounding all of us. I kept playing along with the kids and we all sang songs and told jokes. One little Orc said that he wanted to be a police officer like his father. A nightcrawler said that she wouldn't like to work, an elf like me said that he wanted to be an astronaut. The human boy who was the eldest said, "I want to be a hero," "why?" I asked, "heroes are never afraid," "heroes can sometimes be afraid," "yeah, but they do their best to keep smiling for the sake of others." I didn't think much of it, but it made me feel better, "what about you? What do you want to be?" I thought for a moment, then replied, "a strong king," "king? That's nice. What about you?" He pointed his finger at Krina, "me?" "Yeah, you," "I want to be happy," "that's a boring answer!" All of the kids laughed.

Our little moment of joy immediately vanished when a man suddenly entered the room. He had a mask over his face and wore strange-looking clothes. He approached one of the cages and abruptly took one of the kids out, the one who wanted to be a hero. I closed my eyes as I heard how he was being punched. He was dragged into the next room and his screams eventually became silent. I was petrified and tears began to roll down my face.

I looked up and stared at the ceiling. There was a ring attached to it, but the ring had a little opening. The chain that held our cage had a possibility of being tilted over if we could somehow separate the chain from the ring. I swung my body until the cage freed itself from the ceiling, we then crashed against the floor. We were surprised and got hurt, but as expected the cage opened by itself. Karina immediately ran towards the exit, I grabbed her arm and stopped her, "wait! Karina!" "What? They will get us!" "Let's help them first!" She stared at me in amazement and then agreed to help me. We opened every cage and freed the children from their cages. An Orc stepped down from his enclosure and hugged me tightly, "thanks bro," he said. The nightcrawler did so too, and some others. They weren't any different from the kids back home. I did not understand why the grownups couldn't have peace with neighboring countries, and why they hated Orcs and nightcrawlers so much. My innocent mind saw those kids as kids, and I didn't label them as anything else.

We left soon after, but I had this strange feeling hanging around, "Estes, what's wrong?" Karina asked, "I don't think I want to be king—" "why not?" "I would... like to be a hero," "hero?" "You saw how amazing that was? We saved those kids!" I was all excited and couldn't stop jumping all over the place. I really wanted to become a hero like the boy who appeared to be having fun. I won't forget that boy, he really gave me hope and cheered me up despite everything.

I fondled Karina's hair and said, "since I will become a hero, I can protect you too!" "M... me?" "Yeah, you said you are running away, didn't you?" "Mhm—" "that means... I can help you out," "how?" "Come and live with me!" "Really?" She smiled brightly, "I have this big room and a big bed and—" I suddenly remembered that she was a girl. I swallowed my words and flushed red in an instant, "and... and, well! I have plenty of space." I did stutter like a loser, but that didn't bother her at all. Karina smiled at me and I gave her a crooked grin, it seems like she noticed my funny expression because she kept on giggling here and there.

[mollyhill2102]

Iceland 2020!

1 / 1 Travel Blog

Never really know how to start one of these things, do I talk about my interest and hobbies, or talk about what my favourite food is or do I tell you what my dog is called? I suppose I could introduce myself and welcome you to my blog. So, I’ll just do that. Hi, my name is Molly and I am a 20-year-old student with an interest to travel, everywhere and anywhere. Currently, I attend the University of Central Lancashire, studying International Tourism Management (hence the passion to travel). Throughout school and sixth form, I never really knew what I wanted to do in life, not being the most academic individual made this even trickier for myself. All I knew was that I wanted a job where they offered you the chance to work abroad and travel around the world. I was so focused on just saving a bunch of money, and travelling the world, with the idea of finding a part time job at every stop over. To my amazement, this was a lot harder to do than what I imagined. The process of saving enough money, getting the correct visa’s (including working visa’s), finding places to stay, finding transportation etc., was enough to put me off. Then the idea of university came to me. ‘Why don’t I study travel and tourism, in hope of getting a job out of it, where I can travel as part of the requirements?’ Just like that, I applied to study International Tourism Management at The University of Central Lancashire. To my surprise I was lucky enough to receive a conditional offer, to then top it off with the grades I needed to be accepted! I suppose you could say this is where my journey began. I’ve decided to create this blog to track and discuss my experiences in different countries, perhaps helping other people decide where to visit next. On my travel agenda, my next stop is Reykjavik in Iceland. First thoughts on Iceland are, that I will have to pack three layers of clothing if I want to stay warm. I expect the country to have very little infrastructure and to not be as modernized, as some capitals like Berlin. From photos that I’ve seen online, Iceland as a country looks very green and communal. I understand that the very few locals Iceland has, rely on tourism income to maintain an efficient way of living. This gives me the impression that prices for food and attractions may be on the more expensive side, as it’s their only source of income. As part of the preparations I have undertaken prior to visiting Iceland, many layers of clothing and wooly socks have been packed. Remembering to also pack sunglasses as a must due to the bright sunlight that Iceland does get. Prior to visiting, I’ve also planned my itinerary for the five days I am there, this way I’m not charged extra when there and there isn’t the risk of everything being fully booked. Whilst in Reykjavik, I’m visiting the Blue Lagoon, off to see the Northern Lights, the Gullfoss Falls and visiting the Harpa Concert Hall.

Tour Guiding Script

[prior to visiting the Blue Lagoon]

Hello everyone, my name is Molly Hill and I will be your tour guide today on behalf of Icelandic Tours. As part of Icelandic Tours, I would like to welcome every one of you to the Blue Lagoon in Reykjavík. First things first, let’s talk details before we jump straight into the tour of the Blue Lagoon. Now that we are all on the coach, with seatbelts fastened, it would be a good time to inform you that the coach ride will take 35 minutes from the hotel to the Blue Lagoon. Please do be aware that the roads are a bumpy ride due to the conditions of the road, so please remember to pack a bottle of water and pain killers if necessary, to those who suffer from travel sickness.  

[arrived at the destination]

Welcome everyone to the Blue Lagoon! I bet you are all wondering, what actually makes up the Blue Lagoon, right? Well, let me tell you, the Blue Lagoon is a geothermal spa, meaning everything you see is natural, not man made. ‘The Blue Lagoon history dates to 1976 and is formed next to the geothermal power plant. The lagoon was created by the excess water from the power plant, that is drilling for steam and hot water. The runoff is filtered straight into the Blue Lagoon, which is what heats the water.’ Some would question how this is good for the environment, but studies show that this is a positive environmental accident. The water in the Blue lagoon contains natural minerals which leave your skin feeling smooth and soft! However, be wary with your hair in the water. The water is prone to drying your hair out, which is why there are conditioner pumps plastered all around the Blue Lagoon. And for ladies with freshly dyed hair...... just don’t get your hair wet. This is the place you visit If you want that luxury, thermal spa experience. It is a once in a lifetime experience, hence the popular tourism demand for visiting. We get a lot of celebrities and social media influencers coming here, purely for the experience that they can capture in a photo and share with the world online.  

‘Valur Margeirsson’ was the name of the first person to have tested out and swam in the Blue Lagoon back in 1981. He noticed how much of a difference it made to his skin and named it the ‘Blue Lagoon’. Ever since then, the name has just stuck. I'm guessing that you might have some queries regarding the do’s and don'ts's in relation to the Blue lagoon. So, I'll give you a heads up. Before entering the Blue lagoon, you must remember to shower naked so that any chemicals or dirty bacteria that might be on you, are removed, making you clean and ready to relax. Food and drink are permitted inside the Blue Lagoon, however there are areas outside the Lagoon where you can enjoy a bite to eat. Hope everyone enjoys their time inside of the Blue Lagoon, now let's go and get you all inside.  

The Field Visit 

Day 1: On the first day of arriving in Reykjavik, Iceland it was roughly 19:00pm. The coach journey from the airport to the hotel was only around an hour, so it flew by. Whilst on the coach, my senses of perception of Iceland started to kick in. It wasn’t long before I realised how cold Iceland was and how little there was outside of Reykjavik city centre. Once arrived at the hotel, we were quick to check in and see our rooms. Very standard décor but did the job. All of us by this point were starving and just wanting to grab a bite to eat and get to bed, ready for a full day. A small group of us decided to take a walk in to the city centre, in hope to find somewhere we could eat. 20 minutes passed and we realised we were walking in the wrong direction to the city centre. Once back on track, we managed to find a hub where there were around 6 different food stalls, surrounded by benches and tables. We decided to go the fresh pizza stall, where they made the pizza right in front of you. It was fair to say it went down a treat. Once we stuffed our faces with delicious Italian food, we decided to call it a night and get tucked for bed.  

Day 2: Woke up feeling fresh and ready for the day. All went down for our continental breakfast, where there was a large variety of choice. The coach driver: Adrian, picked us up from our hotel at 9:00am to take us to one of many waterfalls. It approximately took around an hour and a half to reach the first waterfall. Once we arrived, we had around 30 minutes to look, gather some photos, walk around and grab a hot beverage. The waterfall was a stunning view to look at, and was a popular attraction judging by the amount if tourists there. We then progressed onto our journey to the next waterfall, where you could attempt to walk to the top of it. Others and I gave it a good go, but near the top it was almost impossible to carry on as it was too icy. However, we managed to gather some brilliant photos near the top and made a laughingstock of ourselves attempting to walk back down. The waterfall at the second spot was a lot larger than the first one and sprayed you with water from metres away. By this time, we were all rather hungry, in which Adrian drove us to a service station type thing, where there were a variety of restaurants and cafes inside. Next to this service station was the famous Black Sand Beach. It was known for its tremendously large waves, that have been known to wash people away and of course the black sand on the beach. As a group we managed to get some excellent pictures and videos. The coach journey back took approximately 2 hours, giving us enough time to chill-out for a while and then head out again for food. We came to a mutual agreement that we fancied Italian for dinner, where we chose a wonderful Italian Restaurant. Everyone was pleasantly satisfied with their meals.  

Day 3: This was the day that most people were looking forward to.... The Blue Lagoon! Everyone was in positive spirits, and excited to experience the natural geo-thermal spas. Some of us were greeted with a sense of disappointment when it came to receiving our free drink vouchers. Unaware that the legal age for drinking in Iceland is 20, a lot of us were under the age and had to have a non-alcoholic beverage in the Blue Lagoon. Nevertheless, this didn’t ruin our experience or put any downer on the day. Once we had been advised to keep conditioner in our hair to stop it drying out, we entered the Blue Lagoon where we were over the moon with our whole experience. We enjoyed the face mask you received complimentary, the temperatures of the water, the sauna and the drinks. The atmosphere was bouncing, and even with the number of tourists there, there was always somewhere you could swim to, to get away. After feeling refreshed from the Blue Lagoon, we were able to enjoy some hours to ourselves, to go and get some food, before the tour of the Northern Lights at 21:00pm. The chances of seeing the Northern Lights are 50/50, so we were all remaining positive in hope to see them. When it came to 21:00pm, the weather forecasts weren't showing a good percentage of seeing them, which obviously dampened everyone's mood slightly. Our coach driver drove us to a few famous spots which had been known for seeing the Northern Lights, but unfortunately, we never saw them. 01:00am hit and no one had seen them, the percentage of seeing them was near to zero and everyone was tired, so we called it a day.  

Day 4: This was our last full day in Reykjavik, so people were a bit down hearted. However, we had plenty in stock to see this day which was exciting. Firstly, our coach driver drove us to where the set of Game of Thrones was filmed for a few episodes. It was truly mesmerizing and very picturesque. We walked around the set for around an hour, which was filled with small lakes and surrounded by small hills. The sun was out, which made the day even more enjoyable and made the views even better. From this attraction we moved onto visiting the wild horses that live in Iceland. We were warned that you are not meant to just go up to them and stroke them, it must be under supervision from the famer. Adrian took us to a spot where the horses were on a small farm and you could pay to feed them under supervision. They were lovely and friendly. Moving onto the next attraction, we went and visited the famous Hot Springs. Before we visited the Hot Springs, food was on our minds. I had the soup and others mostly had the fish and chips, which very much differentiated from the British version. Once our stomachs had been filled, we took a small walk to the Hot Springs where we waited for some time to see the explosion of the hot water. It was an unreal experience, as it is a natural attraction. Everyone was taking videos, in hope to video the actual blast off. The next attraction on our agenda was the Gulfoss Waterfall. I can honestly say I have never felt so cold in all my life, than what I did when I was next to the waterfall. You felt like your nose was going to drop off! As it was our last full day in Reykjavik, we decided we wanted to enjoy a nice meal out and a few drinks in one of the local pubs. What a way to end the trip! 

Day 5: The day we said goodbye to Iceland. Everyone seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the trip, bar the strong egg smelling tap water!! All in all, the trip was amazing, and our coach driver Adrian made the trip even better. He presented himself with excellent customer service skills and took us to all the best attractions to see in Iceland (with commentary along the way). Definitely a trip to remember.  

Post-visit evaluation  After five days spent in the capital of Iceland: Reykjavik, an overall opinion was formed from my personal experiences/preferences, and how Reykjavik is portrayed to tourists. Pre-entering Reykjavik, opinions had already been formed for me from social media, online images and from the word of mouth, meaning I already had a rough idea of what to expect pre-arriving. Hence the name ‘Iceland’, I gathered that the country was known to be cold and snowy, especially in the winter seasons. Images that I had seen of the snow and minimalistic daylight Iceland receives, on social media and google images helped to enhance my knowledge. Many accounts that I follow on social media, had previously visited Reykjavik, showing off the scenery and attractions through images and short clips. This helped me to even plan upon arrival e.g. what types of clothes I'll be needing to pack, what the currency is in Iceland and what attractions looked the best to go and visit. The question is, did my initial pre-expectations meet my post- expectations. Firstly, once we landed and boarded the coach to our hotel, along the journey I noticed how there was a very small way of living from the locals. What I mean by this is, the small number of houses there were just outside of the city center. It was land upon land, with hardly any buildings or any sort of infrastructure at all. This helped to form the opinion that perhaps the population in Iceland is quite small. To my luck, it is. The locals that do live in Iceland tend to have tourism or hospitality related jobs, relying on tourism spend and growth to live. The higher the visitor numbers means more visitor spend, resulting in more income and revenue into the economy. This therefore provides the locals of Reykjavik with jobs and a sustainable way of living. If more revenue is going into the economy, improved infrastructure more development could take place, to therefore portray Reykjavik as a more appealing visitor destination. This is all part of the multiplier effect. Iceland as a country relies on tourism income to create a sustainable living for its locals and small businesses. If the number of visitor numbers were to decline, this could potentially put Iceland at a financial risk. Many businesses would lose profit and perhaps lose trade, locals would be out of jobs meaning that they are not earning or providing for their families, and the reputation Iceland withholds could deflate resulting in a loss of visitor numbers. Butler’s tourism cycle (1980) shows the six stages of tourism growth and decline. This method is used to see where a destination is in development from tourism growth/decline. In relation to where Reykjavik is on the tourism cycle, the consolidation stage would be best fitting. Reykjavik’s economy is tied to tourism, tourism growth slows but the numbers of tourists exceeds the local population and major franchises and tourism chains will be represented.  During my experience in Reykjavik, we visited the famous ‘Blue Lagoon’, which is a natural, hot thermal spa. Before visiting, many famous Instagram influencers that I follow had previously posted pictures in the Blue Lagoon. Their pictures looked amazing, the water looked blue as anything, it looked empty and relaxing, and all in all looked like a once in a lifetime experience. So, my pre-visit expectations were positive. Once arriving at the Blue Lagoon, we were all given a short speech regarding the do’s and don'ts's inside of the Blue Lagoon. The visitor management strategies were well thought out. They had introduced different queue lines for different visitors e.g. groups, schools, groups less than 3 etc. This enhanced the visitor flow, as visitors weren’t queuing for long periods of time and it kept everything in order. Staffing was particularly good, there was staff everywhere and a good amount for the visitor numbers. The man that gave us the informal speech was very firm and the speech sounded very rehearsed, as if he gave this speech twenty times a day. He then began to inform us that ladies should tie their hair up and go into the Blue Lagoon with conditioner on your hair and try to avoid getting it wet. This was because the sulphates in the water were known to dry out hair excessively. This was a bit of a shock, as the Instagram influencers that I follow, posted pictures in the Blue Lagoon with dry, freshly curled hair, which looked rather picturesque. All I was thinking at this point was that I was going to have greasy, conditioned hair when getting photos taken in the Blue Lagoon. This wasn’t a massive dilemma or ruined my experience at all, it was just unknown knowledge. The man then informed us that anyone under the age of 20 couldn’t receive a free alcoholic beverage. I was unaware at this point that the legal drinking age in Iceland was 20 years old, so this but a slight downer on things as we were all quite excited to have an alcoholic beverage whilst chilling in the Blue Lagoon. Once in the Blue Lagoon, we noticed how busy it was and quite popular as a tourist attraction. I was expecting to see tourists, but how I had envisioned it from someone else’s Instagram posts, it seemed rather different. Nevertheless, the experience was amazing. Certainly, a once in a lifetime experience. Swarbrooke’s (2002) visitor attraction theory, helps to understand and identify how the Blue Lagoon is so popular to tourists and what they do to maintain this. The product is the Blue Lagoon, the organisation and its resources are the geothermal spa, the target customers are mainly couple’s and groups, and the management approach is to conserve whilst enhancing the Blue Lagoon’s natural geothermal spa.  With regards to the customer service in Reykjavik, it exceeded the expectations. From the moment we were introduced to our coach driver and tour guided ‘Adrian’, we were pleasantly surprised with the customer service skills he had to offer. Constantly providing us with the history of Iceland and facts that came as a shock to us all. Not only did Adrian provide excellent customer service skills, but so did the hospitality staff in Reykjavik. As tourism and hospitality are where the job sectors are for the locals, they are constantly working with customers day in day out, so their customer service skills always seemed to be good. The types of tourists that I particularly saw a lot of were couples and groups. The motivation behind couples visiting Iceland could perhaps be the relaxation of the thermal spas or that Iceland is commonly seen as a honeymoon destination. The motivation behind groups visiting Iceland could perhaps be that all the attractions are commonly done in groups, via tours.  Whilst on the trip, there was a time that was filled with disappointment. One of the common attractions in Iceland are the Northern Lights, and it happened to be one of the attractions we were meant to see. They are a very hit and miss attraction, you either see them or you don’t. In our case, we were the unfortunate bunch who were not able to see the Aurora, which carried a sense of disappointment for us all. This has a large impact on tourism in Iceland, especially if the tourists are unlucky with seeing them. Since the Northern Lights are a natural attraction, tour operators and guides have no control over them. This makes it difficult for tour operators/guides to keep their customers happy. If tourists have waited hours on end to potentially see the Northern Lights, they tend to become tired and infuriated. By this point a loss of patience as well. This can potentially lead to negative reviews, leading to a negative reputation. A negative reputation could potentially damage the destination’s tourism industry, following as part of the multiplier effect. During our time in Iceland, we encountered a safety measure that could have been sustained better. When visiting one of the waterfalls, there was the option to walk up along a steep set of stairs with a single hand railing along one side. This hand railing did no one any justice of staying safe. The further you walked up, the more icy and slippery the stairs became. Tourists were sliding down the stairs from a high distance, potentially injuring themselves. The tourism industry in Iceland perhaps need to think of a more efficient and sustainable safety measure to be put in place. This is an environmental impact on the stairs as well, as the stairs were barely visible and had seen a lot of wear, making this a dangerous attraction. It also ruined the visitor experience of seeing the waterfall. Due to the large number of tourists bumping and nudging you out of the way, as there was no quantity controlling methods enforced.  My overall perception of Iceland post-visiting did meet my perception of Iceland pre-visiting. My perception of what Iceland was going to be like, was formed through social media and images on the internet. The perception I had helped me to decide whether this was a place I wanted to visit, what it had to offer that suited me.  Mayo (1973) stated that the perception of a place or image of the destination, whether true or false, is a critical factor when selecting a holiday destination. From my experiences all in all, I believe Iceland has created a great visitor profile for tourists, offering them more natural attractions that are a once in a lifetime experience. They have built a great industry for tourism; some could perhaps argue that Iceland is too reliable on tourism income. The future challenges for Iceland could perhaps be steadily remaining in the consolidation stage of Butlers Area Life Cycle (1980). If the country was to plummet from perhaps lack of visitors, this would then have a negative effect on the whole country and the community, following in the multiplier effect.