#I'm... too scared of my own failings to re-read it

[ao3cassandraic]

Firstly, can I say thank you for all your GO meta. I've spent much of my insomnia soaked night reading through your musings and the replies, and almost all of what I've read makes so much sense to me.

There is a question, honestly, but first..

I read GO when it first came out, and have probably been an avid Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman fan for longer than many fans have been alive. Loved the book, adored the first series, found myself completely floored by S2. The last 15 is probably. - no that's wrong, Definitely - the most beautiful, tragic, heart wrenching scene I've ever encountered. Realising what just broke you was played out by two middle aged, straight actors but all you've seen are two beings whose universe is each other and who are being ripped apart by what they are feeling. I don't have the words, I really don't. Sublime acting & writing.

My response surprised me, I couldn't let it go and I worried at it like a (small, red eyed) dog with a bone. Then I found Tumblr and realised I was far from alone. I've read all the theories and a fair bit of fan fiction (re Michael Sheen, "I love that the fans write their own stories, even if most of them involve David & I having sex"). Some of the POV resonate some don't. Yours do much more than most.

After all that, mine isn't a huge question, it's just a niggle I have. Maggie. Something doesn't feel right there and I wondered if she had set anything off on your radar? Given that NOTHING is accidental in a Gaiman story..

Maggie can't spell and it was highlighted. UGRENCY. (T.O.S.T.E, and Angle anyone) Maggie doesn't eat, though she loves a skinny latte, and doesn't drink alcohol. Claims the record shop is failing, but sends a pub in Edinburgh music for their jukebox? She was never a teenager, and whilst claiming to be tired of being scared is completely fearless. Won't leave Az on his own, is unfazed by demons and doesn't question what Cr & Az are, unlike Nina.

I'm not sure where I'm going with it, but something is off and I wondered if you had any thoughts?

Ok, enough, I'll stop rambling and step out of your questions now. Thank you for bearing with me if you made it this far.

First I just want to acknowledge and validate your adoration for Good Omens! This fandom exists For Reasons! Cheers, and thank you for your ask.

I've seen other folks wondering what you're wondering about Maggie; you're definitely not alone. For the little it's worth, I don't actually think she's ethereal or occult. I think she's a human being with some quirks. (I also can't agree with "doesn't eat" -- we don't see her eat, and she doesn't accept Aziraphale's offer of an Eccles cake, but the former is likely happenstance and the latter, well, I wouldn't accept an Eccles cake either if I had just taken such a giant monetary gift from someone. It's just too much; I'd feel that I was taking advantage and not being properly grateful.)

I actually don't drink alcohol, and I assure you I'm fully 100% no-question-about-it human. (Though there are those who would say I'm more than slightly demonic.) I had an alcoholic parent, which shaped my young life in some not-amazing ways, and I never understood how they got to be that way, so I decided to stay safe and just... not try drinking.

When I got older and more confident in my ability to steer clear of alcoholism, I tried a bit of wine and a bit of brandy and a bit of other thises and thats and discovered that I plain old didn't like them! So I drink non-alcoholic cocktails (I love this fashion! N/A cocktails can be creative and tasty!) and locally-made sodas and if that makes me weird, okay, I'm weird. It doesn't make me an angel. Doesn't even make me a "better" (whatever that is) person -- it's morally neutral. It just is.

(I'm not a skinny-latte person, though, in case you were wondering whether I'm Maggie. Chai is my coffeeshop preference.)

A thematic reason I think Maggie is human has to do with an extension of the Good Omens axiom that Heaven and Hell are just names for sides. Demons, angels, a vulnerability or a trick more or less and other than that they're basically the same. I want to believe that in the GOverse, that's true of humans too -- we have more in common with angels and demons than anyone cares to admit, despite the difference in lifespan and our superior inventiveness. Possibly including quirkiness!

I want this to be true because it means Crowley and Aziraphale needn't be lonely together on Earth even if Heaven and Hell do finally chuck them out for good. I want this to be true because it adds some intriguing resonance to a Second Coming of Jesus story. I want it to be true because I want Good Omens to keep saying go-be-properly-good to humanity.

I could be wrong, of course. I've had several of my headcanons contradicted by Word of Gaiman already, barely a month after s2 came out. I'm sure more will go the way of the dodo, and there are a few things I've said that I don't actually believe any more myself.

But I want Maggie to be human because I like her. I like her shy awkward approach to Nina. I like her willingness to explain How To Human When You're Crying to Aziraphale without shaming him for not knowing. I like her loyalty to her benefactor, which she doesn't trumpet but which is brave as all get-out when the demons show up. I like her flipping the bird at the demons, creatively defending the bookshop, standing up to Shax, giving Nina space to work things out.

Sometimes we humans are okay, you know?

[madstronaut]

it is currently madstro'clock and it is FaFiCoWriYear in this house

the original FaFiCoWriMo post feels too long to keep reblogging but I'm choking laughing right now because I decided to link it and this image above is what I see - FUCK IT WE BALL 😂😂😂😂😂😂 (truly my whole tumblr vibe)

me: gonna plug away at commenting on all the fics I’ve read lately that I love hmm should take a break 

also me: *takes break by looking for other fics to read*

I was completely taken off-guard by stumbling on this fic while mindlessly scrolling on tumblr and having it show up in my recs, so yes i live-blogged by reading even though I HAVE SO MANY OTHER DRAFTS OPEN BUT IT'S COS I END UP RE-READING CERTAIN FICS OVER AND OVER AND I KEEP FINDING NEW COMMENTS TO WRITE IM STILL THINKNIG OF COMMENTS I MISSED ON FICS I ALREADY COMMENTED ON BUT ANYWAY AHEM- 

without further ado, pls stay for the rambly thoughts, then flee in fright because of the increasing levels of unhinged commentar-

Reading: Touch-starved Nikto fic series by @keysorsomething

- "his current running theory was that you must have some form of brain damage. Perhaps you were dropped as a baby."

hehehehehehehe i swear nikto writers capture what i think would be his sense of humor with bullseye accuracy imho

- “His bright blue eyes broke through the dim lighting as if they were backlit by two LED bulbs in his skull.”

“You crack your eye open, meeting his piercing blue stare, like hot water down the back of your shirt.”

OMG TRULY THIS ENCAPSULATES THE EXPERIENCES OF BEHOLDING HIS EYES/WHAT I IMAGINE EYE CONTACT WITH NIKTO IS LIKE???

- “Maybe you could weird him out enough for him to leave you be..?”

literally held my breath reading the next few paragraphs til I read “He’s very gentle”

I don’t know what exactly it is about gentle touch but it can cut through people’s armor & walls like butter IRL and in fic and I JUST *am exploding, cannot type further*

- “His eyes looked like he was blinking on occasion, which was actually mildly upsetting because there goes your Christmas present for him.”

honestly what a thoughtful gift for the reader to get him eyedrops lmao *tell me u have a crush without telling me u have a crush, oh nothing just got you an extremely specific gift cos I noticed small details about you*

- “Did this count at fraternization?”

LMAO READER THIS MADE ME CRY LAUGHING “Im SORRy i woNT TOUCH HIM WITH TWO FINGERS AGAIN, IM SORRY I MISSED IT IN MY CONTRACT COS I WAS TOO BUSY STARING AT ALL THE $$$$-

- “I wanna know what’s up-” you pause “-man,” you tack it on, but quickly feel like you shouldn’t have. Who the fuck calls a guy like this man?

omg I am alr in love i fucking looooove awkward!readers

- trope alert trope alert trope alert STORAGE CLOSET READER? REALLY? (yes please god yes im so happy rn)

i would like to kneel before this all-powerful goofy ass awkward adorable reader who has nikto scared in a closet looking for ways out 

- “Not like that,” You correct, and he just eyes you more confusedly. “I mean, not yet..? Look,” You sigh,”

the “i mean, not yet” - like omg nikto if i was in ur shoes hearing this i would have to suppress the strong urge to immediately make out and probably fail to stopper the hearts exploding from my body (and ofc hide the involuntary boner popping maybe hello?)

- ““See you tonight,” Klaus mocks.”

i pity these fools, reader has just tamed nikto, i would beat all their asses immediately singlehandedly from the sheer high and power trip i would be on

- if someone referred to me as ‘one of the three snoopiest bitches on base’ i would get it tattooed on my collarbones probably

- ‘being called into König’s office and being scolded about fraternizing’ - thisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonig

- ‘His guns are neatly lined up against the wall, biggest to smallest.’

CUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTE omg i just know he prob has nicknames for them too

- ““Нет,” He replies firmly. He’s in more comfortable clothes, something you’ve never seen before.”

i am probably dating myself here but at the tight t-shirt and sweats description all i hear is BOWCHICKAWOWOWOWWWWW

- “Your eyes stay on him intensely as he lays down in the bed, sliding under the covers. “You are here to help us sleep,”

ok all my horniness left me (ok almost all not all of it of course not i would die) and i just felt so tender and awwwwwwww of it all, esp. the reader comparing his grip to a child with their lovie :( 

- “You see the faint, deep-brown shaping of his brows, his long eyelashes, the scar that covers the right side, but most importantly, the pale gleam of his skin in the little light.

He had washed the eyeblack off. And he had done it just for you.”

I am left speechless here; the buildup to this scene is storytelling and climactic perfection in my opinion

then i clicked on next part and it is titled “caught” and i screamed out loud lol

- “You dare to even think you want the world to melt away, for time to be this moment and this moment alone, always and forever, but should you really let him boss you around like that?”

looooooooove, totally captures that feeling when u have one of those 'time stands still/you wished time stood still' moments IRL

also YES READER WITH A SPINE/BRAIN IS ALSO MY OTHER KINK

- also as much as ive somehow developed a bizarrely unquenchable thirst for graves (do not @ me, i know, i have problems and I love it) canon graves is exactly how id imagine he’d be like in this fic esp with the constant mansplaining

- "How do you deny a masked man who’s speaking in his mother tongue?"

YOU CANT. YOU JUST CAN’T! IT’S A LAW OF NATURE. IT IS SCIENTIFIC FACT. IT IS IRREFUTABLE. IT IS ABSOLUTE TRUTH. IT IS DIVINE DOGMA. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

- “When you look into his eyes, you feel like he wants nothing more than to touch you, and you feel he agrees that this moment is ever so precious. But he doesn’t want to touch you. Perhaps he’s afraid, or perhaps he doesn’t like his face being touched, so he won’t touch yours. The Golden Rule and all that.”

“It’s all the best thing to ever happen in this place, and you have a feeling it’s the best thing to have ever happened to him.”

““Nikto?” You ask, voice soft and wavering, like if you speak too loud you’ll create a rip in space-time and it will have never happened.”

again i feel like someone has snipershot me to the heart with tenderness, everything about this fic and the premise just speaks to a core desire i have to create moments like this, to bypass someone’s armor and touch their heart, and be a source of healing for hurt just by the gift of our mere presence and vice versa - and have this moment and memory become an indescribable source of light and strength in dark and dreary times to be taken out and relived over and over again as needed (or is it just me that does this lol idk)  

fanfic writers never change and keep creating pls <3 ur words create worlds that inspire and brighten our IRL world <3

- i am deeply moved by the indescribable tenderness of nikto waking reader up by softly patting their cheek - this man known and infamous for his harshness and aggression - UNF

-  “As always, they are an icy blue that doesn’t match the feeling of having them on you at all. But by now they feel so much cooler than before, like a warm hug or a heated blanket instead of a hot iron.”

if you’ve known any blue-eyed folx up close i have most def seen their eye color change with emotions, sooo fascinating and hot

- ummmmm my jaw fucking dropped when i realized he leaned in…TO KISS HER? I THOUGHT HE WAS ALSO GONNA REST HIS EYES AND JUST SLEEP FOR A BIT NEXT TO HER? OMG the emotional rOLLERCOASTER THIS STORY HAS TAKEN ME ON *running to download it as we speak*

- BUT aHHHH HTHE ACTUAL SCREAM WHEN READER RUNS INTO KONIG

- omg when reader starting sniffling i just want to hug her and also go back in the room and yell at konig OMG YOU MADE OUR HIGHLY TRAINED PMC-LEVEL KILLER READER CINNAMON ROLL CRY I WILL HURT YOU SIR IDK HOW COS IM LIKE 5’2 BUT IF I HAVE TO CLIMB U LIKE A TREE TO DO SO I WILL TO GET IN YOUR FACE-

- “Who the hell can you trust? Both not to talk, but also with Nikto.” - ends up being Velikan meanwhile me busy shredding the post-it behind my back hoping/suggesting it’s dmitry bale and trying not to cry- (ignore me dmitry is my current hyper fixation)

- i wont lie i am both so heart warmed by how tender and sweet reader is for being so good at reading body language and also laughing my ass off at her having this kinda complicated conversation with velikan who does not talk, mostly growls also while typing this his name autocorrected to pelican and i cannot stop fucking laughing

- omg DMITRY REFERENCE I SCREAMED OUT LOUD (it’s like 1130pm where i am, sorry to my apt neighbors)

- also omg i am crying at this allegiance letter with sputnik, i love both how thoughtful and it is and how it highlights each member and their personality - and that the return of sputnik returned some good memories back to nikto <3, shoutout to any PTSD folx who also deal with blankouts, flashbacks, and having good memory recall be a total struggle street - i think i would openly sob if someone did for me the emotional equivalent of what velikan (and allegiance and by extension reader) did for nikto here with sputnik <3 (and now im remembering IRL times people have done this for me and now im crying omg THE POWER OF FANFIC Y’ALL)

-AH YEGOR CAMEO? MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR IN ALL OF COD? (madstro, there’s only one ukrainian operat-SHUT UP I SAID MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR SHOWED UP)

- also i love how Velikan is written here - “This motherfucker was going to get him put on Fatal Attractions.” i would chill and fuck with him and also probably kill for him hahaha jk or am i-

- very into this irresponsible driver yet simultaneously responsible dog dad rodion rn

- also love the small touch of velikan removing his mask to look yegor in the eye asking if krueger is dead or not

the absolute ride this fic took me on???? incredible incredible incredible this is going in my list of top favorite COD fics @keysorsomething and if i could boost this in the nikto fics tag i would but i'll mostly just be salivating here in the corner over this fic in the meantime, tyvm <3

[autobot-ratchet]

Preface + Death of Optimus Prime

Alright. So it's been a few years since I've looked at transformers comics and I wanna do a re-read. I am a different person than I was when these comics were first being released and I wanna go back and look at them again with all my cool and epic literary analysis skills and newfound confidence in said skills. Truth be told, a lot of this is gonna be shit I already thought even way back in the 2010s but was too nervous to voice it because the fandom was god awful lmAO

I've made posts about it before, but the transformers fandom specifically (and the IDW transformers comic fandom even more specifically) is the one that hurt me the most. I was right at the beginning of my “social justice journey” if you wanna call it that, I had just started to realize that a lot of things I never questioned and thought were normal were, in fact, hurting people, and was highly interested in learning (or in some cases unlearning) as much as I could to stop myself from hurting/alienating the people around me. I cared very much about not being a bigot of any kind, even accidentally.

MTMTE was a comic that was also interested in much the same, depicting all kinds of people (namely gay folks, trans folks, folks with mental illnesses, etc) without being a thoughtless shithead about it. So naturally, this attracted the most obnoxious discourse you can possibly imagine lmAO All these marginalized people saw themselves being treated respectfully in a piece of media they liked and felt the need to either protect that or tear it down for not being good enough in their eyes. And the way they did that was by writing long posts detailing their interpretations of characters/story lines, stating them as the one true interpretation, and declaring that anyone who disagrees is disagreeing out of bigotry against them specifically. IE, “This character is [minority] because I am [same minority] and I see a lot of myself in them so if you don't like this character or don't think I'm right about them that means you don't like me and therefore you are a bigot who hates me for being [minority].”

To give an even more specific example, a take I saw incredibly often was “Starscream is an abuse victim whose bad behavior is the direct result of his abuse at the hands of Megatron because I would also like to betray and/or kill my abuser so if you don't absolve Starscream of everything he's ever done or god forbid you commit the crime of liking Megatron, you are an abuse apologist and you think I deserved it.” Nowadays, I can recognize that take as complete horseshit and the OP wildly projecting onto Starscream, but back in the 2010s, I had no idea how much of what I thought was normal was secretly bigotry that had just been normalized, so I took shit like that seriously. I figured, “Well, they ARE that so if they see that in the character, it must be the truth. How would I know that kind of thing? I'm only just realizing that I don't actually know anything! So I should listen to people when they say things like this.”

And the more posts I found telling me what I'm meant to think about the way the comics were written, the stupider I felt because when I read the same comics, I did not pick up on any of the problematic elements they were talking about. Again, I now know it's because they were projecting hardcore and were making up their own versions of the characters, but back then I truly thought I was the stupidest human being alive because they HAD to be right. They talk about social justice all the time, so they must be way more knowledgeable than me and my inability to pick up on the same things they do is a personal failing on my part. Even when it got to the point where they got so wrapped up in their own delusions that I was like “Hang on now, I don't know about all that,” I was still too scared to even voice my own opinions in my own space because I didn't want to get hit with the “bigot/apologist” label and get dogpiled by a bunch of strangers trying to enact justice upon me. If even one spiteful person looking for easy clout found me, it would've happened. It still COULD happen, shit, it's even worse nowadays.

It genuinely fucked up my self esteem for a long time. When the comic inevitably failed to be pure and good enough to be acceptable to like (read: deviated enough from peoples' headcanons that they felt betrayed that canon was not the same as what they wanted to happen), I felt like an idiot at best for continuing to like it and a horrible person at worst for continuing to support such problematic content. And that sucks! It sucks that my naivety and willingness to listen was taken advantage of for some fucking internet brownie points! And part of me will never forgive the transformers fandom for that!

If we're being honest, all fandoms were starting to go down the discourse shitter so that was gonna happen to me no matter what, but for me, it was transformers comics bullshit that fucked me up so here we are. I am now going to re-read these comics and write down my unfiltered thoughts and feelings and anyone who wants to fuck with me can die.

Death of Optimus Prime

damn we really start this shit with Optimus being like “aw fuck I'm still alive” after having done a heroic sacrifice

Optimus called the Circle of Light a cult, which I guess I could understand what with it being so insular but damn dude, harsh, it ain't quite all that

oh lord the Cybertronian politics is making me have fandom war flashbacks lmfAO and especially now that I'm older and have experienced a lot more political fuck shit, no wonder Certain Parts of this fandom were fucking insufferable, people literally tied their actual personal politics to these fictional characters, I cannot fucking imagine what it would've been like if this came out in today's fandom climate, christ

so from the perspective of everyone else in the series, Drift was one of the most terrible Decepticon warriors to ever live, then he got indoctrinated into (what they believe is) a cult, then he just kind of accidentally became a wrecker and thus an Autobot. Damn, no wonder no one really talks to him lmfAO he is 31 flavors of freak and they don't even know where to start with him even if they can get over the Decepticon thing. Absolutely hysterical that he turns out to be completely correct about the Knights of Cybertron

it is actually so funny how done Optimus is with all this shit he just dumps the matrix halves into Bee and Roddy's hands and fucks right off, no words, good fuckity bye

[shootingmorningstar]

Hi!! I saw you also accepted matchups and I would love to request one! I’d love a romantic matchup for Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel (do only one of them if I can o my request one fandom obv)!

my pronouns are she/her and I’m asexual biromantic (I’d prefer a male character, but if you think one of the girls fits me best any gender is fine!). I’m an ESFJ and a Gemini. I have green eyes and dyed cherry red hair. I dress with vintage/fairy grunge clothes. Long skirts and corsets are my fav type of outfit. I wear lots of rings and crystal/pearl necklaces and love to exchange them with others. I also have tattoos, currently I have three but I’m planning to get more. I love to wear makeup and come up with something creative and different everyday. Also, if someone lets me do their makeup they’ll have my heart forever.

I’m the mom friend of the group, always there for everyone and my friends say that I’m really good at comforting people. I’m also calm and responsible, I usually am the one that takes care of other people. I’m very optimistic, I always try to see the good in everything and I often put other’s needs before my own. I love making others laugh to lighten the situation. I’m not afraid to stand up for myself or for someone else but sometimes it’s hard for me to say no to things. I also dislike when someone is too serious and really can’t take a joke as I tend to use humor as my coping mechanism. I’m also very ambitious, I always try to achieve my goals.

My love languages are, receiving, physical touch and words of affirmation and giving, quality time and words of affirmation.

I absolutely love listening to music, it helps me relax and I really like reading (I love reading out loud to others, when I read dialogues I act them out a little to help picture the scene). I especially love fantasy and I recently got into greek mythology. I also love watching horror movies even though it’s impossible to scare me. I also play Dungeons and Dragons with my friends anytime I can. also, I absolutely love musicals and I’m definitely a theatre kid.

Have a good day!! <3

Your sense of fashion sounds so great, anon .ᐟ As a fellow lover of horror, this matchup was a lot of fun for me.

Anon, I'm matching you with . . .

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Verosika Mayday .ᐟ

Lucky you, anon, my absolute favorite Helluva Boss character .ᐟ And the best one.

I know you said male preference, but I just can't help but think you and Verosika would pair amazingly. The best out of the entire Hellaverse. The whole time I was reading your request she just screamed at me as the answer. Seriously, detail by detail I was just convinced more and more. Who would love your dyed hair more than her .ᐣ Not only that, she'd be incredible at helping you re-dye it .ᐟ Verosika is the diva of Hell, she knows everything there is to know about beauty and haircare. She always has to look flawless, after all.

I think the appeal would be the same in regards to your creative fashion sense and makeup abilities .ᐟ She's intrigued on how a style so different from her usual one can look so cute. Please dress her up and do her makeup, she'd love it.

I also think she'd really admire your ambitious attitude. In her line of work, you have to be ambitious or you'll fail, badly. She could use someone optimistic around her, too. Blitzo left her burned and probably with some trust issues, so you'd be wonderful help with that. Verosika's love language is also physical touch, and that's practically canon. Loving horror almost always means a love for the dramatics, which she definitely appreciates. You mentioned having trouble saying no .ᐣ She is definitely the best influence for that. And your adoration of music .ᐣ It writes itself. The two of you may be in Hell, but you're definitely a match made in Heaven.

[baldurs-gate-official]

Posting an update cuz I've gotten some very sweet supportive messages and some of you seemed interested in hearing how it goes

Officially free from my abusers 😎 After failing to get away several times, I've spent the last two years biding my time and making sure I never have to go back and it's paid off. So yeah. I'm free and very happy. And I've ensured this will continue to be the case.

Putting a read more. But this is currently what's up

CW: Abuse, PTSD, Starvation, Torture

Rn I'm focusing on finally getting medical care for some of what happened. I need to relearn how to eat because it's been over a decade of very limited food access and I can't tell how much I'm supposed to eat/when I'm supposed to stop eating. Never expected there to be a learning curve for eating but here we are. I might need to have some bones re-broken, which I'm not looking forward to. But it's a relief to have something done about it finally. Part of the torture I went through involved having my bones broken repeatedly :') So they're a little messed up.

It's still so hard to believe it's over. I know once I accept that, I'll have to process everything that happened and that'll be rough, but when it's over, I'm gonna be so happy. I mean, I'm already pretty happy. I can eat whenever I want. Eating felt like a luxury/privilege before and now it's just...a Thing I can do whenever. And I can leave my room whenever I want. Or go outside. I can make noise. And sleep. Well, sleeps a little tricky. But I don't have to worry about someone hurting me when I'm asleep now. Admittedly, I still get scared of falling asleep, but once I'm out I'm good. It's just... a lot. It doesn't feel real yet.

It's wild to me that people just...have this. It's a thing people get to have their whole lives. being able to just exist and do things like sleep and eat. And I get to have that now too??? I could explode, I'm so excited. I've literally dreamt about this my whole life.

Anyway. If you're also being abused or neglected and need someone to talk to/advice, please shoot me a message. If I can get someone out of their own shitty situations, I will. Or if you even just want someone to talk to so you feel less alone. I know how lonely trauma can be.

I'm going to shut up now. But yeah. Ty to everyone that left kind messages. I'm going to go grab a popsicle or something now. cya

[wonderlandflamingo]

For the question survey/meme/thingy:

1, 3, 14, 24, 25, 30, 38, 39 :)

1: what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

-I watched Princess Mononoke for the first time when I was eleven and I think that did a lot to my brain.

-For the worst my mom was very catholic and I have lots of weird anxieties. They've gotten better, but I definitely freak out about weird things because ~catholic guilt~

-I read Jurrasic Park for the first time when I was 10 years old. Like Princess Mononoke that warped my brain, but I also got real good at reading and now read SO much

3: 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

-The Mummy (1999), You could argue that this movie isn't good, but its so much fun. I love it dearly.

-Finding Nemo, I watched this 4 times in theatres when it came out. Then they re-released in 3D years later and I saw it then too.

-Spirited Away, This isn't my favorite Studio Ghibli/Miyazaki movie, but its got so much going on and its super fun to watch.

14 what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

-Move. For a long time it was because my mom was projecting her own anxieties onto me and was helicopter parenting me to death. Now that its just me and my dad I don't want to leave cuz I actually really like living with my dad. He and I get along great and he lets me be my own person and its nice having him there for me.

24: what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

I used to ballroom dance competitively and at my last competition my partner and I did a tango heat. He and I both hated tango an we both lack the confidence/attitude to pull it off, so we practiced a lot and ended up taking 1st for our age bracket. Woo!

25: fave season and why?

Autumn. It's not too hot it's not too cold and I'm a basic bitch who loves pumpkins and Halloween.

30: what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

Back in 2020 I got a guinea pig and his little wheeking noises are the best. And when he gets real excited he bounces (popcorns) across the floor and it's so great to see. Everyone should have a guinea pig.

38: fave song at the moment?

39: youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

Right now my favorite Youtuber is the Weirdo Book Club woman. She reads bad books and loses her mind about them. A hobby of mine is reading bad books and I love hearing other people's opinions on those bad books or just telling me about bad books I haven't heard about.

i swear half of her views are from me.

Snake Discovery is also super fun. You learn about reptiles and how to take care of them and all the stuff that goes into running their retptile store/snake breading program. Loads of fun. 10/10

[cockasinthebird]

Something old, as in July 1st old, that I’ve technically never finished, so rather than letting 7 pages rot, I’m posting 4 of them here, and if I ever finish it, I’ll post the rest as a part 2!

Also since this is so old, there’s probably gonna be more errors than usual because as creators we constantly improve!

But I am still very very happy with this, like... yes... good... 

Anyways, enjoy a bit of Poolboy Billy and Rich Brat Steve

-

The sun sits atop of the sky in another unbearably boiling hot summer day in Hawkins, Indiana, and, unfortunately for one rich kid Steve Harrington, not even the AC unit can cool down his house enough for it to be livable.

Ice cream and cold beers by the poolside seem to be his only refuge, hiding underneath a large parasol from the unforgiving gaze of the sun above, Ray-bans pushed far up to shield him from the bright light of day, whilst also disguising how longingly he truly stares at the new pool boy.

Sun-kissed skin, curls of gold, muscles carved by a lustful sculptor, sweat shining like diamonds that glide down over his bare chest, his taut abs, all the way to where his shorts definitely sit too low on strong hips.

It's hard to know if it's really the sun or the view that makes it feel like Steve's body is about to burst into flames; if it's the dry summer air or the way Billy grins that makes him so thirsty.

They don't really talk past the usual niceties whenever Billy comes by to clear the pool of leafs, ensuring that the chemical levels are as they should be, and that the surrounding area is clean and nice to look at. Even in school it's barely more than bumping shoulders and talking trash on the court, although Billy always do seem to make it a daily task to get in the way somehow.

Yet when they're alone like this, a week or so into summer vacation, all that delicious fire and animosity just sorta runs dry. Could be that Billy keeps cool as to not lose his job at one of the only pools around, or maybe all the bravado was just a show of macho to assert himself as some kind of alpha male at school.

He had knocked Steve off of his throne as Keg King, which hadn't been that hard to do, because thanks to Nancy Wheeler's influence and Tommy's betrayal, Steve had gotten far too soft to even fight for that title, but maybe he didn't mind giving it all to Billy. There was some peace in letting go, and excitement in having it taken.

And as he lounges here, daydreaming about having everything taken by Billy, he doesn't notice that that same guy approaches him with a sly grin going up one side.

“You know, you're not gonna catch a tan lying in the shade like that,” he says, skipping by any form of hi or hello.

Even though Billy's wearing sunglasses, Steve knows he's looking up and down his half naked body stretched out here, long legs that goes under all too short swimming trunks, the trail of hair leading up from the waistband, undoubtedly counting every single mole in view. He can practically feel the eyes burn through him like he's a centerfold girl of a dear magazine.

“I'd turn lobster red in minutes,” Steve responds with and rests his head against the pool chair, maybe he flexes a bit, but mentioning that would be to admit Billy was watching.

Then he goes to grab Steve's beer, who doesn't object to it as he follows the motion.

“Maybe you should try wearing sunscreen like normal people.” Billy flashes teeth in an oddly teasing grin, and brings the can up to take a big gulp of it.

Once he's satiated, let's out a refreshed “ahh”, licks his lips slowly – along the curve of his upper lip, then slams down the can again.

Steve looks at his empty beverage, up at Billy who's got this wide shit-eating grin, then back at the can. To where he extends his arm in a lackadaisical fashion, and pushes it off the table with the flick of his index finger. It sings out hollow as it clatters to the tiles.

“Pick that up.” He smiles.

Billy cocks a brow, grinning still as if he's not about to do as demanded by the son of his employer.

“As you wish, princess,” his tone barely dipping into something venomous and challenging, as he bends forward to pick up the empty beer.

When he stands again he runs his hand through sweaty curls to push them away, and wipes his brow with the back of his hand.

“Anything else?” he asks with clear feigned obedience. The can crumbles inside his fist as he closes his hand like it's no big deal at all, as if it isn't telling of his thoughts.

“Yeah why don't you go get me a new one?” Steve asks all nonchalant, yet shifts a bit in his seat at that unnecessary show of aggression. He half expects Billy to throw the can right at him.

It crinkles further between his strong fingers.

“Go get it yourself,” stern and now with more of a snarl.

Steve sighs and looks away to contemplate on just how far he'd dare to push Billy, but the guy is all too easy to agitate it seems, and Steve doesn't feel like throwing a party with a bruised up face. So he stands up, notices the little jerk of Billy's lips as if he's won something, and walks up to stand next to him.

“Think you can clean up all of this shit before tonight?” he asks and gestures with his hand dangerously close to the other's face; close enough to feel the hitch of his breath. “I'm throwing a pool party tonight and want it to look nice. Maybe I'll see you there?”

Billy turns his head to stare at Steve's far more expensive sunglasses. He doesn't answer.

When it's clear that he's never going to, Steve keeps walking. “I'm gonna go take a shower... your money is on the kitchen table.”

And although Billy fights it- struggles against the urge that's begging for him to turn around, he gives in to watch Steve walk away. His plump ass looks so fucking good in anything, especially those too small trunks, and it is infuriating to him the way it carves itself into his memory; joining countless of other times he has looked where he shouldn't, gaze fallen too far down.

A sight that he remembers far more vividly than any bouncing set of tits, and the beer can he's still strangling whines again from within his frustration.

A sight that still sits there as he pours all the sloppy leafs into a black bag and carries it to the trashcan.

A sight that he can't stop thinking about as he rolls up the hose, gathers his net and goes to the storage closet of the pool house.

A sight that he has seen several times in the boys locker room. Naked. Wet. Soaped up.

“I'm gonna go take a shower,” Steve had said all casually, as if he isn't aware of how it goes hand in hand with all those fucking images that Billy sees every time he blinks or dreams. It keeps him up at night. Keeps him hard.

Gently he closes the door to the cramped storage room, filled with cleaning supplies and inflatable pool toys. He breathes with forced calmness, hand still on the handle as he struggles some more against those images. When eyes open to look down, his angered gaze is met with tented shorts. And he takes a deep breath. Fingers unfurl from the door handle. Unties the string of his red shorts, which then falls to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans out as his half chub hangs free. “Fucking Harrington.”

Billy places his hand against the door and leans on it with all his weight, just in case Steve found a reason to come here, which he doubts that shitty rich kid ever would, but the door doesn't have a lock, so better safe than sorry. He presses his head against it as well, eyes peering down, his right hand moving to where it is so painfully needed.

A harsh exhale escapes as he grabs his cock; runs his thumb along the line of a bulging vein, and he closes his eyes. He barely has to even try before Steve's there with those long legs, round ass, pink lips, doe eyes.

And he finds himself thinking of just minutes ago, his mind recollecting where each and every mole is that he has spent almost a year mapping out. On his cheeks, down his throat, over his arms, across his chest, high up his thighs.

Steve then turns to look at him, pushes up those expensive Ray-bans into his dark hair so that Billy can see how intently those almond eyes stare directly at him.

Billy licks his lips before they fall open to allow out a grunt as he feels himself grow in his hand.

Squeezes his eyes tighter, and in his mind he walks closer to where Steve now sits on the edge of that yellow sun lounger. Billy brings a hand up to the side of Steve's face; runs his thumb across that pretty little mouth, pulls down at his lower lip till he opens up.

Jerks faster around his throbbing erection and feels pre cum trickle down over his fingers.

He can almost imagine the slight sigh that would escape Steve as Billy then presses his thumb into his warm mouth, hard onto his slippery tongue, only to have those lips close around his digit and suck.

“Shit- ah-” Billy moans as heat forms a whirlpool between his thighs.

Watches as Steve pops off of his thumb, lips now shiny with spit, and he keeps them open and inviting, eyes staring up and blinking slowly with heavy lids. Billy doesn't have to move or say a thing before Steve leans forward to sink all the way down Billy's impressive, girthy cock.

Billy spits into his hand before continuing fisting at himself with furor, hoping to reach some semblance of how he imagines Steve's wet mouth taking all of him would feel like.

How he'd gag and groan at the base, lips pulled tightly around teeth, drool running down his chin, and Billy grabs him by the hair; keeps Steve's head still. Pulls out slowly just to slam right back inside and hears how he complains, sees tears run down his cheeks, and does it all again. Starts fucking himself into Steve's face with a pace matching his hand, quick and sloppy, hears all the moans that echoes from within the throat he shoves his prick into, the grotesque and obscene squelching of spit and choking around his head.

“Oh fuck, Steve...” he gasps; his ragged breathing and the slick sounds of his hand moving over hardened flesh the only thing to be truly heard here.

As the first jolt of pleasure daring him closer to climax shoots through his spine, he bends further till the top of his head is pressed against the door, his hand there curling together to a fist against the wood.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

The way his swimming trunks clings to him when he climbs out of the pool. The way he groans and pants on the court during training. The way he looks at Billy, sometimes glaring, sometimes not. The way Hargrove sounds in his voice. The way his punches feel on Billy's cheek.

It's all so heavily ingrained in his memory, suffocating, everything else so dull and muted in comparison. And it brings him over the edge, the thought of cumming down hot into Steve's throat as he chokes on Billy's climax, heat rolling through him as he moans far too loud, hips stuttering into his closed hand that pulls up his length with a harsh stroke to milk out every single drop he can.

Feels it run down his hand. Watches Steve swallow and lick his lips.

Then Billy opens his eyes.

He's still standing alone in the closet, his cum sliding down the wooden door, dripping slightly from his fingers to the floor, pooling between his feet. And he's the one to clean it all up now.

[deerestapologies]

5 times you called him by a pet name + one time he called you by a pet name

(Diluc + Zhongli x GN!Reader)

Diluc

1. "Oh, hey hon." You greet mildly.

The candles have begun burning a bit low, the long shadows making his pout even more obvious.

"I apologize, I was held up for longer than anticipated."

He produces a small bouquet from his coat, a cluster of wildflowers, and approaches like he's about to give an offering instead of a gift. He kneels by your chair, face stoic as usual, but you can see the worry and shame in his eyes.

You twirl the stems to absorb their delicate scent, and then carefully drop them in your water glass. You cup his face in your hands, and press a kiss to his brow.

"It's okay." You kiss his brow again, "I am not mad." You kiss his nose. "I am hungry though."

You laugh lightly at his rush to sit across from you. An evening eating cold roast was worth being able to spend it with him.

-

2. "I understand your frustration, but perhaps we had best move on." You place a hand on his crossed arms.

"Their behavior was unacceptable, especially for those who would call themselves knights."

The stubborn clench of his jaw tells you just how angry he is. The idiots were lucky to have only gotten the verbal bludgeoning earlier instead of the literal one he wanted to dish out.

"Yes, but you've already made them apologize, and they do seem repentant," the fool knights in training nod frantically, "so why not leave this mess for Kaeya, darling?"

He sighs, but loosens his posture to wrap a protective arm around you. The hell the Knights were going to catch for this was still to come, but at least no one lost any limbs. Yet.

-

3. Tucked into your pile of pillows, book in hand, you waited as you do most nights. Diluc had a late meeting scheduled after dinner, but he promised it was truly to do with the winery and not of the vigilante variety.

So you bide your time, until you hear his heavy boots come up the stairs.

"I'm home." He calls softly.

"Welcome back." You say just as softly.

He goes through the motions of undressing, refreshing himself, and redressing without missing a beat, but his posture seems wilted. You mark your page, and turn over the blanket for him.

"How did it go?"

He heaves a deep sigh, and crawls over to you. Pulling you close, he lays his head on your chest but doesn't say another word.

"Oh, sweetness." You embrace him, one hand holding his face and the other in his hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

-

4. You lengthen your steps, but the increased pace doesn't seem to deter the boy following you. He isn't dangerous per se, but his persistence is damned annoying.

"But, if you'll just listen," he jogs back up to your side, "I just need your help for a little while!"

"I am neither a Knight nor an Adventurer," you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand, "And you have nothing I want. Now leave me be."

He sputters, "M-master Diluc said-"

As if he's had his tongue plucked out, he suddenly stops talking.

You turn around only to find Diluc himself, a stifling hand on the kid's shoulder. His face is a stoic mask as always, but his energy is thunderous.

"I agreed to help you out of deference to your mother, but you," You see the boy wince as the hand tightens, "failed to listen to a word I said. Harassing my staff and my partner has only earned you banishment from all of my properties. Now go, before I report you to the Knights as well."

You both stand stock still as the boy sprints from the winery back to Mondstadt proper.

"Your going to report him anyways, right?" You mumble, after he is just a speck on the horizon.

"Of course," He finally relaxes his stance to look at you, "Though I doubt Jean will be happy about it."

Your chuckle, already imagining her face when the letter reaches her desk. Heaving a sigh, just grateful for the problem to have moved on, you grab Diluc's hand.

"Thank you," You pull him into a tight hug, "for protecting me as always, angel."

-

5. You gently rap on the door frame to his office. He looks up from his work just long enough to give you a soft smile.

"I was wondering," You lean against the frame, avoiding actually entering lest you get sucked in as well, "If my dear husband was going to come to bed tonight?"

The bright lamp on his desk means you see his blush even from across the room. He huffs an embarrassed laugh, but starts shuffling paperwork into orderly piles.

"I hadn't realized the time, my apologies."

You hum, "It is understandable. But I cannot rest if you are not in bed with me."

You watch as he tucks away his tools, pulls his gloves off, and undoes the tie in his hair, all with a much to pleased smirk on his face.

He pulls you into a delicate, lingering kiss with a hand on your neck. The warmth of his skin makes you shiver. You lean into him, letting him wrap you in his arms.

He chuckles, "Well, I would hate to neglect my husbandly duties."

+

1. The lingering warmth from your bath and the softness of the sheets has you dozing in minutes. You toss a hand onto Diluc's side of the bed, wanting to be present when he comes to bed as well but the ache of a long day is catching up to you.

After several moments you feel a calloused hand grasp your own. You are too tired to properly see, but feel the dip as he climbs into bed.

Still holding your hand in a delicate grip, he presses a kiss to your palm, and then your cheek.

"Sleep, my love, I am here."

Zhongli

1. Zhongli re-enters the house not even ten minutes after leaving. He is patting down his jacket and looking about the entryway in wonder, and you can't help but chuckle.

"Forget something?"

"Yes," he plants his hands on his hips, "I can't seem to find my wallet. I could have sworn I remembered it this time."

You get up from where you were leisurely awaiting his return, and snag the 'disappearing' wallet from where he left it on the table.

"Not quite, old man." You wave it, teasing.

"Ah, of course."

Tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, you tug him closer to plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

"My apologies, it seems I was a bit distracted this morning."

He tucks a piece of hair away from your face, gaze so blatantly loving you can't help but crash your lips against his. Damn whatever appointment he may have, he shouldn't be so handsome in your direction.

-

2. It is not every day you wake up before him, so you try to make the most of it. You prepare his clothes for the day, just so you can pick out your favorite of his shirts. You start a light breakfast, and brew an energizing blend of tea for both of your sake.

You spend some time simply waiting at the table, content to sip your tea and watch the morning birds.

When the soft shuffle of feet brings Zhongli into the kitchen, you stand up. He is mostly dressed, minus his tie and shoes, jacket loose around his shoulders.

You steer him to the table, and press a kiss to his cheek when seated.

He hums contentedly, still a bit sleepy, "Good morning."

You pour him a cup of tea as well, and his smile grows a bit wider. He tilts his head up, "Thank you."

You meet him half way, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth, "Of course dearest. Do you have anything pressing today?"

A hand comes to rest on your hip, preventing you from moving back to your seat.

"No, nothing more important than this."

-

3. Squished between the mattress and the press of his body, you couldn't imagine being more content. The warmth, the scent, the feel of his breath ghosting across your skin.

You run a reverent hand through his hair, spread loose over his back. It seems impossible for you to be this happy, like you would only read about in unrealistic fantasies.

Amber eyes are already watching you, when you open yours. His gaze is soft, unbearably so, so you look at the ceiling.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He answers it so easily, as if it is among the many universal truths that exist in his head.

"You must understand," You wet your nervous mouth, "I mean it. Truly, I love you."

You feel his head tilt in confusion, but power on, emotions spilling.

"You are my starlight. My life would be unimaginably dark without you. I am scared constantly by the sway you have over me, but I cannot stand the idea of living without you. I want be here with you, forever, no matter the cost."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the flood of tears that threaten to spill, waiting for his polite retreat. His body lifts off yours and you pull a shuddering breath in, unused to laying yourself bare in this way. He could end you now, destroy you by just walking away.

But you feel tremoring hands grasp your face, almost too tightly. He doesn't say a word, can't, but presses his forehead to yours.

-

4. "Zhongli?" You call into the empty hum of the parlor, hoping it will carry to his office. It's not far, but he gets absorbed in his work easily.

You lean out the door a bit, and try to project your voice more, "Hey, honey?"

The door to his office clicks open, and his head pokes out. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, please," you adjust the pile of books in your arms, "Would you mind grabbing this other pile? A client requested reference material from just about every era, and I don't think I have the wing span to carry all of it."

He presses a quick kiss to your head, and scoops up the remaining books with no problem.

"Of course, would you like me to relieve you of those as well?"

"Not a chance, show off, you're gonna have to deal with the doors."

As if to prove your point, he balances the stack in one hand to hold the front door open for you, smile only slightly smug.

-

5. Given how busy your lives were, and his propensity for letting time fly, you figured he would forget again. It would not be the first anniversary he forgot, and you imagine it wouldn't be the last.

It's not like you could hold it against him, especially not when he was so earnest and loving all year round.

So your surprise was genuine when he led you, dressed in his best, to a private booth at Liuli Pavilion.

The food was made by the head chef, as a show of gratitude for Zhongli's long patronage (you send a quiet thank you to Childe), and the service superb. The evening is relatively quiet, you converse as normal but with the additional soppiness that comes from acknowledging romance.

You are especially glad for the privacy when you cannot help but practically ravish the man over the table, his face being too handsome to bear just looking at.

Shortly after, he looks at you with burning eyes, and finally says, "I am quite full. Perhaps we should head home."

"That sounds perfect."

You continue to stare, sappy and sated, as he blindly pats at his pockets, equally unwilling to look away.

After several moments, it dawns on you, and then immediately on him.

You can't help it. You laugh. Hysterically, because no matter what Zhongli is Zhongli.

He's standing now, flustered like you've never seen, pacing the room as if his wallet would be anywhere but the table at home.

"This was not my intent." He huffs, "I had planned the evening meticulously."

"And it was lovely," You choke back another laugh, "But, sugar, you are not living this down for the rest of our lives!"

You are laughing as you pull out your own wallet, giggling uncontrollably as you hand over all the money on your person, and can barely walk you're so light headed when he leads you out the door.

He doesn't once let you go, from the pavilion's steps to your front door. Indulgent to the end, your man.

+

1. It is always a pleasant surprise when your errands overlap. Working nearly in conjunction makes it happen quite often, but still, it makes your day brighter.

You have just finishing bartering your lunch into existence when you spot Zhongli headed your way. Quickly, you slip the chef a few more mora to add another dish.

He is at your side in an instant, bringing your hand to his lips in that coquettish way he has.

"There you are," he lowers your hand but does not drop it, "I've been looking for you, treasure."

You twine your fingers together, relishing the warmth. You snug up to his side, taking the liberty of placing his hand on your hip just to see him blush.

"Have you now?"

"Always."

[sadachmesarthim]

towers for your honeycomb chapter 3: no i do not condone underage drinking i just think it's a good plot devic-

content: the boys have One Beer Each™, peter both sets and completely ignores his own boundaries, author remembers the communion chapter from "how to read literature like a professor" and bastardizes it, both of them have anxiety but neither say anything about it, smoking

words: 2k     song: outskirts of paradise - bad suns     

Looking Tony in the eye was like staring at the sun. Peter could barely hold his gaze, always finding an excuse to turn away.

He was sat in front of the other man a few weeks later, sharing drinks and pizza at a new brewery down the road. It’d cost him his liquor license, and potentially a clean record, if anyone found out, but Richie (their most beloved regular) offered to let the pair try the latest house brew if they ever swung through.

Peter wasn’t one for beer, but he’d accepted Tony’s invite anyway.

He wasn’t entirely sure why. Since their fight, they’d worked all of maybe three hours together. No other shifts, they avoided each other at meetings, and neither were particularly willing to reach out off the clock and apologize.

It was like the world was screaming at them to stay away from each other.

Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to listen.

After his shift that morning, Peter found Tony outside, leaning up against the hood of his car & working through his second cigarette. He drummed on the side of his thigh, keeping his empty hand busy as he waited for Peter to come out. Tony jumped at the sight of him, tossing the half finished cig down a storm drain.

“You know those lead straight to the ocean, right?” There was more amusement than anger behind his words. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what Tony was up to, but he was too tired to start shit. He crossed to the passenger side of his car, tossing his belongings to the floor.

“Even if it didn’t go through the city’s filtration system – fuck the fish.” Peter rolled his eyes. Funny as he was, Tony always had to be contradictory.

“Don’t you have, like, a school of them on your shoulder?” Tony’s normally visible salmon tattoos were safely tucked away behind a denim jacket Peter’d never seen before.

“Irrelevant.” Peter rounded the hood and turned, facing the other man. “Did you need something or were you just here to argue about my town’s plumbing system?” He huffed the words out, arms crossing in front of his chest expectantly.

“I, uh…” He suddenly went silent. The ground crunched under Tony’s feet, gravel scraping asphalt under his shoes. They were a rattier pair he owned – more tape than sole, oil staining the canvas.

“I wanted to know if you’d come to lunch with me. Today. Like, right now?” He hesitated at the last few words, like he wasn’t sure he could say them out loud. “I, uh. I’m pretty sure I have some things to say to you, and Richie’s got some good stuff waiting for us at the Pub House…”

Peter was astounded. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Tony?” My Tony? What? “I- why should I trust you? I’m sure as hell not getting in a car with you.”

Tony’s face fell. A bit of- what, disappointment? flew across his face. Peter would’ve missed it had he not been staring, impatient for his answer. Tony, floundering at the rejection, couldn’t give him one.

“Okay, maybe- how about this. I’ll think about it. Give me five minutes to go wash up and I’ll be back.” He turned & headed inside, not waiting for a response.

The cool water felt good against his burning, salt-stained cheeks. Peter hadn’t realized just how tired he was – opens had always taken it out of him, and the early spring temperatures didn’t always prevent the stand from turning into a heater during rush hour.

The soap in the stand was always too fragrant for his taste, but it did the job – it felt good to wash away the day’s work and come back looking like a new man. He smoothed his eyebrows down and dried himself off, wetting his hair a bit as he finished.

He wound up with grind in it again, brushing it out with a comb he found in the first aid kit. One of these days he was going to have to start wearing hats to work. Shampooing his hair every single day was taking its toll on his curls, and he wasn’t a fan of burnt coffee smell.

Stepping back, he squinted into the warped mirror in front of him. Much better.

Back outside, Tony’d lit up his third cigarette of the day. The shakes’d largely abandoned him, allowing his anxiety to drift inward. The sticks only did so much – he missed the higher, stronger hit of his Suorin, but he was trying to quit (ironically enough).

He was actually able to finish this one by the time Peter made his way back outside, looking significantly better without $5 worth of product on his face.

“Okay, some rules.” He came up, stopping just short of Tony. “You’re paying for both of us. We leave whenever I want, without complaint. We go straight there and come straight back - it’s eight blocks, I don’t want any bullshit scenic routes.” His tone was firm – something Tony’d never encountered with him before. 

“Yes. Yes, anything. Okay.” 

Tony’s car was a lot nicer than Peter anticipated. He’d recently sold his truck, swapping it for a silver Mini Cooper instead. It was a pretty little thing, just up his alley.

It was also fucking obnoxious. He’d bought it with a modified exhaust and had plans to make it even louder. You could almost always hear him coming, little pop pop pops audible for quite a ways. 

It was… less clean than Peter expected. Tony was always so well put together, so well-maintained - seeing stray gum wrappers and drink cups littered around the interior was almost jarring. He didn’t realize he was staring until Tony spoke up. 

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Peter nodded. He silently took in his new surroundings, nerves on fire. He’d never done well around strangers, in new places. His mind’d always screamed at him, danger unsafe bad run, overriding his sensibilities.

“Hey, are you good? I can take you back if you need.” They’d barely left the Outback parking lot. 

“No- no, I think I’ll be okay. Just… not where I thought I’d end up when I woke up today, y’know?” Peter tried to laugh it off, but he’d always been pretty transparent. 

Tony turned a corner, cutting back into the lot they just came from and turning the car off. “Seriously, Peter. If you don’t want to come to lunch with me just say so. I’ll take you back to your car and we can pretend it never happened.” Okay, seriously, who the fuck is this guy and what did he do with Tony?

“No, I- I think I’m okay. Seriously. Let’s just go and get it over with - I kinda want to hear you grovel anyway.” He settled further into his seat, failing to shake away the agitation. 

The flatbread was actually really good. It was more of a hipster take on pizza - white sauce and pearl onions definitely making it stand out - but it wasn’t a bad lunch by any means. 

The beer definitely wasn’t Peter’s favorite. He was barely sipping by, trying hard to keep a straight face as he swallowed. Damn Richie anyway. 

It’d started off awkward enough - discussing where to sit, small talk about their week, the weather. It felt more like a bad first date than an apology, but- 

“I really am sorry. For what happened in the fridge.” 

Oh. 

“Okay. Why?” Peter tightened the hand around his glass, bracing for Tony’s next words. 

“I.. I was kind of an asshole when I was younger, too. I figured I could make a fresh start here with a brand new town of people that didn’t know or assume anything about me.

“I was doing okay for a little while, too, but I don’t know man I just.. something happened and I just- I don’t know why I’m a dick to you. But I’m trying not to be. This is that, like, ‘first step’, I guess?” Peter nodded along, attentive. 

"So, I don't know. I'm sorry for being a dick to you at work. I'm sorry for being a dick to the girls. I shouldn't yell at you or drag your family into this bullshit - I'm sorry, Peter."

There it was again, that name. His first fucking name. 

“I- thank you, Tony. It’s a start, and I certainly haven’t forgiven you, but… thank you. Seriously.” Tony sighed, shoulders visibly relaxing. Peter let go of his glass and wiped it off, standing and walking around to Tony’s side of the table. 

“Okay then, time for a do-over! Hi, I’m Peter Parker. I’m 19 and I’ve worked at Outback North Espresso for a little over 9 months. What’s your name?” He stuck his hand out, waiting for Tony to make the next move.  

Tony laughed, pushing his chair back and standing to meet the other teen. “Okay, uh, I’m Tony Stark, I’m 18, and I’ve worked at Outback for almost 6. Nice to re-meet you, Peter.” He shook Peter’s hand, awestruck at just how soft it was. He quickly steeled his face and sat back down, releasing Peter and allowing him to do the same. 

Once he was sat back down at his side, Peter looked up, confused. “Wait, you’re still 18?” 

Tony laughed. “Not for long. My birthday’s at the end of next month.” 

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m older than you!” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “That’s - it’s literally three months, that barely counts.” 

Their debate lasted well into the afternoon, alongside several other discussions. Peter’s childhood in Richland, and what it was like growing up there. What Federal Way was like, and why Tony left. Peter could tell he was remaining intentionally vague, but didn’t push it. 

Their beers were warm and the pizza was long gone by the time they abandoned their table. Tony guided him out the back, hand high on his arm. 

Once they were back in the car, Peter’s anxiety returned. It was like he’d spent the last few hours speaking to a completely different person, and now that he was sitting mere inches from Tony… 

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He wasn’t… sure, exactly. What it was. 

Tony spoke up when he noticed the tension in his passenger seat. 

“Hey, we’ll get you back to your car soon, I promise. Eight blocks, remember?” His right hand made its way to Peter’s knee, digging soft circles into the denim. Just like in the fridge.

“Please don’t- don’t touch me. Without asking.” It came out harsher than intended. 

“Okay, all good. No worries. We’re like, two minutes away.” Tony eased off the clutch, turning right out of the parking lot and onto the road. The windows rolled down and Peter let his head fall back in relief. Fresh air always helped him clear his head. 

It really was a short drive - right turn, left turn, right turn - and they were back at Peter’s car. The doors unlocked, and he was out in an instant. A bit too fast to be respectful, if he was being honest, but he knew he needed out. Tony stopped him before he was able to get in his car. 

“Hey, for real. Thank you for today. I’m sorry if it was too much.” 

Peter looked over and down to meet his eyes. “I- yeah, of course. No, yeah, thank you. For the apology. I’m sorry I freaked out on you. But no this- it was good. Yeah. Thank you, Tony.” 

He turned, unlocking the door and closing it before either could say anything else. After turning the key he sped off, without throwing even a glance behind him. 

Tony watched as Peter peeled away, reaching for the box of Pall Malls in his cupholder. He lit one, shifting into first and heading in the opposite direction. 

Not bad. Not good, but not bad. 

lmk if u want on or off the tags list!

@snowstark @kaleidoscopeluli @parkerrbitch @carelessannie​ @bluestarker​ @longlivestarker​ 

[visionsofus]

Hey I just wanted to tell you that your writing is really great. I love reading your fics. You are doing a really great job and I hope you continue and enjoy writing as much as we all enjoy reading. I was wondering if you still take requests because I think that the song Remedy be Adele would maybe fit wanda and vision between cacw and iw really good. Thank you for your time. I'm off now re-reading all you fics. Have a great day :)

hello anon! gosh this has taken me a while, I hope you don't mind :) I really loved your song prompt and I hope you like the direction I have gone with it (though it is more post AoU than post CW sorry :')

Track #25: Remedy by Adele

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda comes back injured from a mission and Vision has to come to terms with her mortality, and the limits of their relationship. Tender touching and the intimacy of tending to wounds.

Ten minutes into his pacing Vision grew worried that he might wear down the carpet. Instead, he rose a foot off the air and took to floating back and forth before the third-floor windows. It was the perfect vantage point to watch the empty drive leading from the gate to the compound’s front door.

Ten minutes quickly lapsed into half an hour, yet he had still heard no update from his teammates since the foreboding message which marked a start to his anxious pacing.

Everything went well. ETA 1 hr – stopping at hospital first.

Vision had sent something back along the lines of – if everything is okay then why the hospital? But was yet to receive a reply. The compound was equipped with a certified med bay extensive enough for most simple injuries, for Steve, Nat, Sam and Wanda to stop at a hospital meant they thought it something beyond their capabilities.

An ounce of the tension in his shoulder dissipated as he watched the front gate slowly open, and the hulking SUV begin down the drive.

Vision reached the driveway below just as the car pulled up beside the front door. From what he could see, the team looked to be in good spirits. There were smiles all round despite the soot across their faces and some general wear and tear.

“Is everything alright?” Vision demanded as Steve reached the door.

“All fine, just a little more fire power than we were expecting.”

“Who was hurt?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then glanced over his shoulder. “Wanda.”

Vision started forward but Steve placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Easy,” he said quietly, “don’t smother her, all things considered, it wasn’t too serious.”

Vision held Steve’s gaze a moment longer before shrugging the captain’s hand off and heading for Wanda’s side of the car. She was being helped out by Nat which Vision quickly saw was owing to the white cotton sling tied around Wanda’s neck.

When Natasha had Wanda steady on her feet she let go and left them alone, giving Vision an all too knowing look as she passed. He held his arm out for Wanda to hold as she started towards the front steps, but she ignored it.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, a hospital trip is absolutely fine.” It was a challenge to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

“Don’t,” Wanda said holding a hand up and Vision wisely stayed a step behind her.

A few moments of silence later and Vision felt he were able to ask her properly. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” There was an earnestness to her voice that he couldn’t help believing. “It was just a bit of a burn and Cap was worried about treating it ourselves, because of scarring and stuff…” Wanda trailed off as she turned away from Vision.

So, it wasn’t quite as bad as he had feared but it scared him nonetheless. These sorts of accidents hadn’t been uncommon in the year since he had joined the Avengers. But the fear, no matter how synthetic, never failed to unnerve him. His teammates readily accepting such risks to their fragile human bodies was even more scary. For Wanda especially, he always worried. Not because she couldn’t handle herself, Vision had seen and experienced her force firsthand. Rather, he dreaded the idea of anything bad happening to her. Vision had first been confronted with her mortality as he’d watched her suspended in mid-air, her city hurtling to the ground. It was an image that had often occupied his thoughts since.

Vision hadn’t noticed the takeout that Sam had retrieved from the back of the car, so he was surprised to see the full meal set out on the table when they arrived upstairs. He frowned with concern noticing just how much slower Wanda’s steps were as she took her seat at the dining table.

Vision sat next to her, taking the glass of water that Sam passed down to him and onto Wanda. Next came a plate loaded with three different kinds of pasta dishes which he set in front of Wanda.

He watched as she stabbed a few pieces of pasta onto her fork, turning purposefully to him and pointedly shovelling it into her mouth. Vision looked away sheepishly, practically hearing her satisfied smile as he did. Don’t smother her, he reminded himself.

He stayed quiet throughout dinner, half listening to the team recounting their mission, only really paying attention when they described Wanda’s injury. He was grateful to hear that the burns weren’t bad, though he noticed Wanda’s barely concealed winces when she bumped her arm against the table every now and then.

After dinner they all migrated to the television, a regular routine when it was just the five of them in the compound. Vision leant against the living room wall, his eyes flickering between the last light of the sunset which was casting the sky in shades of violet, and Wanda, who had settled into the couch for the evening news.

Steve had said that the doctors hadn’t seen the need to prescribe any pain medications for Wanda besides simple aspirin and Vision knew that Wanda had a higher pain tolerance than most. It didn’t mean she should deal with the pain though – so he set about researching the best options for helping with burn pain.

The evening continued on smoothly though Vision’s mind was far from the television that occupied his friends. It was always like this when someone get hurt, everyone acted like it was normal even as they all harboured secret concerns – he saw how everyone’s eyes followed Wanda as she moved to the kitchen for tea.

“You don’t need to hover, Vis,” Wanda said, not looking over her shoulder but having heard him follow her.

“I—” he meant to say he wasn’t hovering, but that would be something of a lie. Wanda smiled and raised her eyebrows as he leant against the kitchen island, the kettle boiling noisily about them. “I’m sorry, I was just worried.”

“It’s alright, thank you for worrying about me,” Wanda said pouring the water, keeping her sling carefully out of the way, “but I promise, I am fine.”

He didn’t reply, following her back to the living room and allowing himself to sit when she indicated he should join her on the couch.

Vision was pulled from his mind, and the rabbit hole he had fallen down regarding burn rehabilitation, when Wanda yawned and stretched gracefully beside him.

“I’m off to bed,” she said to the others, getting to her feet and waving good night to them over her shoulder. There were noncommittal murmurs of ‘goodnight’ in return from Steve and Sam, Natasha had since gone to bed herself. Today’s mission had worn them all out more than usual.

Vision shifted in his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his knee. He lasted a minute and a half before getting to his feet and following Wanda off down the corridor. Her bedroom door was closed. They had something of an open-door policy at the compound – if your bedroom door was open, you were open to company, if not – well…

He resumed his pacing from that afternoon, walking up and down the corridor outside Wanda’s room and weighing up his options. He could risk irritating her further by knocking on the door to see if she wanted company, or he could trust that she was okay as she claimed and go to his own room.

He had just resolved to return to his own quarters when she called his name from behind the shut door. Without hesitating, Vision phased through the wall, arriving swiftly in her bedroom, a space he was more familiar with than his own room.

What he saw before him had heat crawling up his neck and sent him spinning around. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry I thought you said my name—”

He tried to rid the image that was currently burned into his mind, even as his heart beat wildly in his ears.

“No, I did call you,” Wanda said, he heard the sound of her struggling, “I need help.”

When Vision didn’t make to move from where he was, Wanda spoke again. “Vision you can look, it’s not that big a deal.”

Vision swallowed, turning around but keeping his eyes on the floor, nonetheless. When he finally looked up, he was able to confirm what he had seen upon entering her room. Wanda was – well she was stuck. Her slinged arm was raised above her head, caught on the edge of her top as she had seemingly tried to struggle out of her clothes.

“I think,” Vision said, speaking quietly, “that you’re supposed to undo the sling before you change.”

“Yes, well,” Wanda huffed, “I only have two hands and one of them I can’t use.”

Vision glanced up to her face, refusing to acknowledge her mostly bare torso, the slope of her back, her waist, her chest.

“A little help, please?”

“Oh – of course!” Vision said starting forward, unsure where to begin. Wanda watched him approach and turned, nodding her head to the knot tied at the back of her neck.

Delicately, Vision untied the knot, letting her injured arm free of its sling, his eyes firmly focused on not looking below her shoulders. Wanda turned around to him and he held his hands out to help lift the top off, waiting for her invitation before he touched her.

“Go on,” she raised her arms to the best of her ability, the top hiking higher up her ribs as she did.

Vision pulled her top over her bandaged upper arm, freeing it from the thin material before doing the same on the other arm. With the utmost care, and desperately trying not to think about the tense quiet between them, Vision laid his hands on the hem of the top, pulling it up and over her head. He let the top fall onto the bed, unable to keep his eyes away from her as she shook her hair out of her face.

Vision started and quickly turned around again, the intimacy sending his eyes back to a spot on the wall which he bore into intently. He listened to the rustling of fabric as Wanda pulled a sweater over her head. When she was done, she tapped his shoulder, her other hand extending the sling for him to support her arm with again.

Vision leant in, looping the fabric around her shoulder, taking care to not jostle her wounded arm.

“Do you not fear getting hurt?” He asked hesitantly, his chin brushing against her forehead as he finished the loose knot.

“Of course I do,” Wanda murmured back, her eyes closed contently as Vision pulled back a little and set about readjusting the fabric to make it more comfortable.

“How do you manage it?” Vision asked. “The fear.”

“I don’t.” Wanda’s reply was a harsh confession that had Vision’s own heart clenching empathetically.

He finished with the sling, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder. “How do I manage it?” He hadn’t really meant to speak it aloud, but it was an honest question. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda would still want to be around him if he hovered like this every time she got the smallest injury. Vision would do anything not to jeopardise their current relationship, this thing that was something and wasn’t at the same time. Anything to reinforce the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side that they both seemed intent on keeping to.

“We manage it together,” Wanda said softly, shrugging with her good shoulder. “We take it one day at a time, one accident at a time and we help each other.”

Vision smiled at her, reaching out to cradle her hand gently. “I suppose we can manage that.”

[emachinescat]

The Neglected Neckerchief

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump ​ day 21 - torture

Summary: A group of bandits torture Merlin in front of Arthur for their own entertainment, using Merlin’s beloved neckerchief against him in the cruelest of manners.  Now, Arthur must struggle to come to terms with a traumatized Merlin, whose neckerchief has been replaced by a ring of bruises.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur

Words: 4,730

TW: strangulation, panic attacks

Note: Based on my drabble series from “Moments” by the same name. Sorry for no cover/header picture today. I'm sick and doing the bare minimum. I will add one later when I feel up to making one!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Arthur had never understood his servant's attachment to that ratty triangle of fabric he wore around his neck. When he had first met Merlin, in fact, Arthur had downright hated it. He'd pestered his servant about it on many occasions, questioning the practicality, the fashion, the function of the neckerchief. Of course, Merlin never failed to follow up with a clever retort, but he never really answered the question, and eventually, Arthur got bored of teasing Merlin for his clothes and moved on to something else.

As the years passed, however, Arthur's derision for the odd neckwear faded, and before long, he found himself associating the neckerchief with Merlin himself. It got to the point where seeing Merlin without the accessory felt strange, and before he knew it, the prince realized that he actually liked that stupid scarf – though he would die before he admitted it to Merlin.

Now that he was older, perhaps a bit wiser than he had been as a young prince, King Arthur had a feeling that it wasn't so much the neckerchief that he'd grown to like, but the person who wore it. And since Merlin and his neckerchief were one and the same, it stood to reason that the king would have grown fond of it as well. Not that he would ever admit his affection for his servant out loud, either, of course. Not in so many words – or any words, really. That just wasn't how his relationship with Merlin worked.

Indeed, somewhere along the way, Merlin's neckerchief had become as much of a staple in Arthur's life as the servant himself. And yet, in the span of one bandit attack during a morning hunt, that all changed.

It had started off, as these things often do, as a normal patrol. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm, the sort of day where you would never expect anything horrible to happen. And yet –

It had been a week since the hunt turned to hell, and Arthur could still recall it so vividly that he might as well have been experiencing it all over again. Those five minutes of torture had branded themselves so deeply into his mind's eye that every time he fell asleep, he would go back – back to the forest, to the bandits and their laughter and their hands holding him back, holding him down. Back to the sounds. Oh gods, the sounds. Gagging, choking, panicked breaths, a mouth gaping open like a fish's, searching desperately for air that wouldn't come. Blue lips, still chest, and laughter. And, of course, in the center of it all, Merlin's beloved neckerchief.

***

One Week Ago

"Looks like we got a fine catch today, gentlemen!" The short, ugly brute of a bandit grinned at Arthur, half of his teeth rotten and the other half missing all together. "Is this a knight of Camelot we've stumbled upon?"

Arthur was relieved that they hadn't recognized him to be the king, at least. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible on his outings, having Merlin hold on to the royal seal if they were going anywhere outside of the citadel – bandits generally ignored servants and focused on the more important looking people, after all. It was a clever trick, provided Merlin didn't lose the seal. So far, he'd kept up with it well enough on their journeys, and this time, it seemed to be paying off, as these bandits thought they were playing with just another knight and his servant.

But that didn't change the fact that Arthur and Merlin had been taken off guard, ambushed, and tied hand and foot by a band of ten morally bereft, muscle-heavy monsters who wouldn't know hygiene if it crashed into their thick skulls. Arthur had been shoved to his knees and held there by four men, who still struggled to keep him still. Two other men had done the same to his servant, but other than the usual bumps and bruises from fighting a losing battle, neither Arthur nor Merlin were hurt.

Arthur may not have been injured, but he was angry, mostly with himself. He'd known it was a bad idea to go on a hunt without any of the knights or guards to accompany him. He'd let Merlin come along because he knew that the obsessively loyal servant would have followed him anyway, and he'd much rather have Merlin by his side so he could keep an eye on him instead of being forced to listen to him thrashing around in the undergrowth making a racket while trying to be stealthy. As Athur had been reminded by his council many times, he was king now, and he had a responsibility to think not only of the safety and well-being of his people, but of himself as well. That meant no more running around in the forest on hunts or patrols without a guard. That meant telling the council where he was going to be at all times so that they would know to send someone after him if he didn't get back in time.

But Arthur had had enough. It had been a month since his father's death, and he was stifled in the castle. Even when he wasn't in Camelot, people still surrounded him on patrols and hunts, and even when those people were some of his closest friends – the knights – he often felt like he was being smothered, and his skin crawled at the thought of having to sit through one more council meeting or supervised hunt. He'd needed to get away. He'd told Guievere where he was going, of course. And then he'd grabbed his servant, all but dragging him out of the castle at the break of day, and they'd passed a pleasant enough morning, with Merlin scaring away half the prey. But as with most good things in King Arthur's life, this too had to end. The ambush had been unexpected and swift, and Guinevere wasn't expecting him back until evening – they were on their own.

As casually as he could, Arthur implored the bandits, "You have me, a knight of Camelot. My servant is of no use to you. Let him go."

The short, stocky bandit who seemed to be in charge considered this for a brief moment before crossing his tree-branch arms across his chest. "So he can run back to your coward king and bring a rescue party? Not likely."

"We're miles away from Camelot," Arthur pressed. "You could be long gone with me before he brings anyone back."

From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched Merlin frantically shake his head. Arthur ignored him, and prayed that the idiot would stay silent. All it would take would be Merlin saying "Arthur" one time, and the bandits would realize their mistake – and quickly seek to rectify it. Thankfully, Merlin seemed to be aware of the situation, and for once, blessedly, kept his mouth shut.

The leader ambled forward, brow creased as if thinking were incredibly painful for him. "You seem awfully keen to protect that servant of yours. Most knights don't give a damn about the help if their own lives are in danger. What's so special about that one?"

Arthur maintained eye contact with the brute before him. "I care about all those I have sworn to protect as a knight."

"Oh, that's rich!" A chorus of laughter from the surrounding bandits grated at Arthur's nerves. "Nah," the man continued, casting a glance over his shoulder at the skinny servant who glared defiantly back. "With those pretty blue eyes, I reckon he's more than just a servant."

"Yeah," called one of the bandits forcing Merlin to kneel. "The knight's consort I'd wager."

The leader swivelled back to face Arthur. "Is that it, Sir Knight? Is he your consort?"

Arthur didn't answer.

"Oh, now you clam up." The bandit leader seemed genuinely disappointed that he didn't get an answer. He peered at Arthur through slitted, suspicious eyes for a few charged seconds. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

"Well, lads, why don't we have a bit of fun before we head out?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, and saw the servant looking back at him with wide, uncertain eyes. To Arthur's surprise, Merlin didn't look scared. In fact, Arthur thought that his servant appeared to be more conflicted than anything, like he was trying to make a difficult decision. Baffling as that was, it was hardly the most important thing on Arthur's mind at the moment.

The leader signaled to the men holding Merlin, and then everything went to hell.

One of the men lashed out with frightening speed for someone of his size, landing a devastating blow in the center of Merlin's back at the very second the servant was released. Arthur watched the kick connect, heard the pained cry, felt the thump as Merlin sprawled face-first onto the forest floor, hands tied behind his back, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Arthur had received similar kicks before, and he knew all too well the terror-inducing breathlessness that accompanied such injuries. He'd rarely wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill the bandit who had inflicted such pain and panic on his servant.

But they weren't done yet. It got far, far worse.

The leader of the bandits stepped forward then, and squatted at the feebly stirring Merlin's side, still facing the king. Every muscle in Arthur's body tensed; his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears. Something very bad was going to happen, he could feel it in every fiber of his being. He'd seen enough violence and war and bloodshed, enough monsters, to know that this was far from over.

The bandit leader reached over and fingered the fabric of Merlin's neckerchief – he'd worn the blue one today. Arthur watched the idea form in the man's head even as Merlin began to recover a bit of his breath and attempted to squirm away from the bandit's touch. "Interesting fashion choice," the leader commented, sarcasm slathered generously on each word. "Makes my job easier though."

He clenched his meaty fist around the back of Merlin's scarf, and, keeping his eyes trained on the knight before him, slowly pulled up.

To Arthur, the world had slipped into slow motion. It was like the minutes just before a storm, when nature held its breath, birds forgot how to sing, and all of creation readied itself for the violence to come. He watched, horror coursing through him, as the first waves of realization and then panic dawned on his servant's dazed face. Blue eyes bulged wide, mouth opened in a soundless scream, and still, the bandit pulled.

The bandit took his time. He was in no rush. Arthur could see from the wild, glassy glint in his beady green eyes that he was relishing the control he had over the situation, over the man he was strangling. He never looked away from Arthur, not even when the agonized choking, coughing, gasping, hacking sounds began in earnest. Arthur, for his part, tried to ignore the man, and, as much as it hurt him, tore at his soul and twisted his stomach, the king kept his eyes on Merlin, trying to offer him comfort, reassurance, anything. Until Merlin's eyes started to dim, and his eyelids drooped as if a heavy weight had been tied to them, and the frantic heaves of his chest grew weak, and he knew Merlin was dying.

Despite his resolve to remain strong and unaffected, and despite his hopes that the bandit leader would grow tired of his cruel game if he thought Arthur was not emotionally invested, Arthur lost control. It had become clear to him that the man torturing Merlin did not care if he elicited a reaction from his other prisoner. He was tormenting – killing – Merlin because it was fun for him; the pleasure had written itself into his bright eyes and twisted smile. And Merlin was going to die.

Arthur lunged forward, a feral yell bursting from the deepest part of himself, and even with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tied together, he nearly managed to shake off all of the four men holding him – and then three more added to their number, and Arthur found himself face-down just feet from Merlin, who was all but unconscious, barely fighting to breathe, and the pressure of the bandits on top of him was crushing. Arthur barely felt it beneath the weight of his failure.

The bandit leader now loomed over both master and servant, and to Arthur's surprise, he eased up pressure, releasing his grip slightly on Merlin's neckerchief and allowing the servant to drag in desperate, halted breaths, his eyes now bulging. Merlin coughed, deep, raw sounds grinding out from a shredded throat. Arthur could see a terrible, angry red line circling Merlin's neck, just beneath the neckerchief.

"Merlin – are you all right?" Arthur kept his voice low, hushed.

Tears were streaming down Merlin's cheeks, whether from fear or lack of oxygen or pain, Arthur didn't know. He tried to speak, and his voice hurt to hear; he sounded like his vocal chords had been slashed. "Aarrrrr…"

"Shhh," Arthur soothed, partially out of concern for Merlin's health, partially out of fear that Merlin would reveal Arthur's true identity. "It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe, okay? I'll find a way out of this." And Merlin looked at Arthur with such unmitigated trust in his gaze that Arthur felt like running himself through with his sword, because he had no plan. He had no hope. Surely, Merlin could see that, even in his state. Arthur had seven bandits piled on top of him, holding him motionless. The guilt crashed into Arthur with all the force of a battering ram into a fortress door. This was all his fault.

"S'not … your … fault," Merlin heaved out with great difficulty, and Arthur's blood ran cold. He was certain he hadn't said that out loud. How had Merlin known? It hit him – Merlin had known that Arthur was blaming himself because he knew Arthur.

The moment shattered as the bandit leader butted in, voice loud and abrasive, sending chills of fury across Arthur's flesh like an attacking army. "Now that you've got your breath back, Merlin, let's start from the top."

Arthur watched Merlin's eyes go wide with fear, and Arthur must have been giddy with it himself, because he could have sworn he saw a tiny bit of gold swirling in their depths right before the neckerchief was tightened and the imagined flame died out, and only terror remained.

The second time was just as slow and measured as the first. The bandit applied pressure in the tiniest increments, and this time, Arthur got a front-row view of the light leaving his friend's eyes. The noises were even worse up close, the coughs and gasps taking on the helm of death rattles. Merlin thrashed at first, trying to escape, to breathe, to do anything, and his lips lost color and turned blue, and now he was barely moving, barely breathing, and this time, the bandit leader had no intention of stopping.

Merlin's head and shoulders were now being held aloft by only the fabric around his neck, and his struggles ceased completely, his chest stilled.

Arthur squirmed desperately beneath the hold of the seven bandits, but even the adrenaline screaming through his body was not enough to throw them off. He could fear hot tears on his cheeks, knowing that if Merlin was not dead now, he would be soon. Arthur had been tortured before – it wasn't a common occurrence, but it had happened. And yet, nothing had prepared him for the kind of torture he had endured – was still enduring – in watching his closest friend die slowly and painfully, terrified, right in front of him. Arthur wanted to rip the men who were doing this limb from limb. He wanted to slowly squeeze the life out of the one strangling Merlin.

He wanted them to be strangling him instead.

All seemed lost – and would have been, if a Camelot patrol hadn't heard the commotion from a distance and come to investigate. There were six men, and they had the element of surprise. One moment, all was anguish and torture and the gut-clenching quiet that came at the end of life. The next, a short, fierce battle raged all around him. As soon as the bandits loosened their grip on him and Gwaine cut him free, Arthur joined the fight, catching the sword tossed at him by Elyan.

He ran through the man who had tortured his servant personally, with the same level of twisted glee and intimacy with which the man had strangled Merlin. It was so much more than he deserved.

Once the bandits had all been slain and lay scattered on the forest floor, Arthur raced to Merlin's side, slamming to his knees beside the servant. His hand shook so badly as he felt for the beat of Merlin's heart that Elyan had to take over, and his dark eyes were grave as he looked back at Arthur and shook his head.

"No," Arthur said simply, refusing to believe that Merlin was truly gone, that he had watched his friend die terribly before his eyes. "No, check again."

"No time for that," Gwaine snapped, falling to his knees on the opposite side of the servant and bending over the prone body. The blue of Merlin's lips was almost as vibrant as the color of the neckerchief that had so cruelly been turned against him.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of anxiety, disbelief, and finally relief, as Gwaine breathed for him, Arthur pounded on his chest, and Percival carried him home.

***

Merlin hadn't worn his neckerchief since that torturous day. He was sullen and nervous, jumping at small noises and avoiding Arthur, and refusing to wear anything to cover up those ghastly bruises.

He hadn't been able to talk for nearly a week after he'd woken up; Gaius said he was lucky that his windpipe wasn't crushed. But even after, Merlin barely spoke.

And gods, those bruises.

They encircled Merlin's pale neck like a grotesque mockery of the very scarf that had caused it. They had reached the stage where the very edges had started to yellow, but the inner ring was black, mottled with red and blue. Just looking at it hurt, and it was a constant reminder of the torture Merlin had gone through … and that Arthur had gone through, watching him. Arthur could not fathom that Merlin would prefer to walk around with those bruises in plain sight – surely they had to trigger bad memories as much as, if not more than, the neckerchief?

It was stupid, but Arthur couldn't stop himself thinking that when Merlin wore his neckerchief again, it would mean things were back to normal. That he was okay.

And so Arthur had a neckerchief made out of the finest material Guinevere could procure in the market. It was silk, so soft to the touch that Arthur wouldn't have minded falling asleep in it. It was a deep, Camelot red, and so light it was almost weightless.

When he presented it to Merlin, yesterday morning, the servant's eyes had twitched down to it, and where Arthur had thought he'd see gratitude, maybe even a hint of a smile, he saw only trepidation. Merlin had rasped a pained, "Thanks," then grabbed the scarf by one corner like it was a serpent poised to strike and shoved it into his pocket, out of sight. He hadn't worn it since.

"I don't understand," Arthur said to his wife over dinner, distress clear in his voice. "I replaced it."

"He's just not ready," Gwen soothed, though her brow was knit in worry.

"It's of a much finer material than his old one," Arthur insisted, as if he were trying to convince Gwen that Merlin should wear it.

"You have to be patient with him, Arthur. What happened to him was… traumatic. He has to come to terms with it in his own time."

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. "I just can't stand looking at his bruises."

Gwen squeezed his hand, her eyes sad and wise and more beautiful than anything that Arthur had seen. "I know it hurts," she said, "and I mean no disrespect, but… Arthur, this isn't about you. It's not about your discomfort, it's not about the pain you went through seeing Merlin be hurt like that."

Arthur opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, not even knowing if he was going to argue or agree with her.

Gwen held up a hand. "I'm not saying that what you went through was unimportant. I can't even imagine watching…" She trailed off, shuddered. "But you can't expect Merlin to wear something that causes him so much pain and fear, just because it makes you uncomfortable."

Arthur knew she was right, and told her so. He would have to find a way to look past the bruises, for now.

Merlin was avoiding Arthur – there were no two ways about it. He got to work early, woke Arthur, and then ran off to do the rest of his chores. Finally, at the end of week two, Arthur cornered him in the armory.

"Merlin." Arthur's face was serious, his eyes uncharacteristically concerned.

"Sorry, Sire, I have work to do," Merlin said stiffly. His voice still sounded as if it were being painfully squeezed from him. He tried to leave, but Arthur caught his arm, pretended he didn't see Merlin flinch.

"For the love of… if I give you the day off, will you stay and talk to me?"

Merlin's eyes were wide and his scowl looked more pathetic than annoyed. "I suppose I have little choice in the matter."

Arthur's heart constricted. "Merlin, I—"

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been wearing the neckerchief," Merlin blurted, avoiding Arthur's eyes. "I just… I know you we retrying to help, but… Hold on, I'll go get it right now," he flustered. His cheeks were red and his eyes bright.

"Merlin, stop."

Merlin stopped.

"I realize I haven't been fair to you," the king said slowly, carefully. "I haven't been patient. What happened was… wrong. Do you need to talk to me about it?"

The dam broke.

Arthur had never seen Merlin cry like this before. He'd seen tears in his friend's eyes on various occasions, but never had he witnessed the choking, uncontrollable, full-bodied sobs that were now wrenched from the depths of Merlin's soul. At first, Arthur stood, uncertain, terrified that he was going to say or do the wrong thing, but then he thought of Merlin, and tried to imagine what he would do for him if the king were in this situation. A strange calm descended over him, and he gently took Merlin by the arm and guided him to the nearest chair – Arthur's chair, the most comfortable one in the room, the one he never let anyone else sit in, not even Guinevere (she had her own, anyway).

He eased Merlin down, knelt beside him, and wrapped one arm around his servant's shoulders, and just held him while he released all of the pain and frustration and fear and trauma he'd been skirting around for weeks. Arthur felt the hot sting of a tear mark a course down his own face, and he didn't brush it away. He felt, like Merlin was feeling – felt the pain of the torture inflicted on them both, felt the violent sobs shaking Merlin's wiry frame, and finally, felt the tremors ease and stop all together, but he didn't withdraw his arm. He might have even squeezed a little bit tighter, as if assuring himself that his friend was still there, still breathing, despite how hard those bandits had tried to kill him.

Finally, Merlin shifted awkwardly, and Arthur became acutely aware of the fact that his arm was still around the servant's shoulders, and he withdrew with a start, backing away with haste.

Merlin turned to look at him, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, the bruises on his neck still visible and angry, and tear tracks streaked down his face. Arthur watched him apprehensively, afraid that Merlin was going to say something emotional that Arthur wouldn't know how to respond to, or worse, openly acknowledge the unusual level of tenderness that had permeated that moment. Instead, Merlin quirked a watery half-smile and simply said, "Thank you."

Relieved, Arthur smiled back. "You're welcome. Feeling better, are we?"

Merlin gave a small, almost timid, nod. "A little bit, actually. I think."

Desperate for some return to normalcy, chest warm with the hope that Merlin really would be okay, someday, Arthur folded his arms across his chest. "Then get your scrawny arse out of my chair."

Merlin actually laughed then, and settled in deeper to the comfortable seat. "Sorry, sire," he said. "I think my scrawny arse is stuck here until further notice."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin blushed. "I… I don't think I can stand right now," he admitted, and Arthur noted with concern that Merlin's knees were indeed trembling. Merlin was trembling.

Arthur rolled his eyes like it was some great inconvenience. "Fine," he said. "Laze about like the useless servant you are. I'll fetch Gaius."

Merlin surged forward at this, almost fell flat on his face. "I don't need –" He broke off as Arthur shoved him back in the seat. "Gaius."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You were saying?"

Merlin had never looked so much like a sullen, scolded child.

***

When Arthur returned, Gaius not far behind him, he was shocked to find that Merlin was still where the king had left him. Even more surprising was the fact that Merlin held the silk neckerchief that Arthur had gifted him, almost reverently, gazing down at the fabric with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Merlin, where did you get that?" Arthur asked.

"My pocket."

"You've been carrying that around all week?"

Merlin didn't answer, but he didn't need to – it was obvious that he had been.

Arthur heard Gaius shuffle through the door behind him, but did not turn. He kept his eyes on Merlin, who continued to contemplate the scarf like he had never seen anything like it before. "Merlin, you don't have to wear that," Arthur said in a rush. "I just thought–"

"I know," Merlin interrupted, and that's when Arthur knew his servant was on the mend, because a Merlin who lacked all decorum and propriety was far more normal than one who was actually good at being a proper servant. "But, it's nice. And I was thinking, I've never owned anything so fine." He paused. "But I think I'll leave it at home when we go on hunts and patrols from now on." He gazed up at Arthur imploringly.

The king felt Merlin's eyes on his front and Gaius's on his back. He looked Merlin straight in the eyes and said, "You don't have to wear anything you don't want to, Merlin. If you never wear a ridiculous triangle scarf again, that's completely fine. Don't do it because you feel like you have to. You won't hurt my feelings."

Merlin grinned – a full, mischievous smile that Arthur hadn't seen in far too long. "When have I ever given you the impression that I care about protecting your feelings, Sire?"

Arthur tried to look stern, but ended up laughing out loud. "Fair point," he conceded.

He and Gaius watched with bated breath as Merlin tied the new neckerchief very loosely around his neck. A moment of tense silence, then –

"Does this make me look like a prat?"

"Merlin!"

Arthur knew that the ordeal wasn't over just because Merlin had put on the neckerchief. There would still be nightmares and anxiety and days where Merlin couldn't stand to have anything touch his neck. But this was progress. This was hope.

For this one moment, this was Arthur and Merlin, as they had always been, and all was well with the world.

For now, that was more than enough.

[khoicesbyk]

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 2,630 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: A Dream-Mary J. Blige | Beautiful Monster-Ne-Yo | Lady In My Life-Marc Nelson

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @queenjilian @choiceslady @secretaryunpaid @aussieez @pixie88 @txemrn @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @lucy-268 @otherworldlypresents @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you. 😁😘

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

Chapter 4.) Beautiful Monster.

All my life.

And the hereafter.

I've never seen.

Seen one like you.

You're a knife.

Sharp and deadly.

And it's me.

That you cut into.

But I don't mind.

In fact I like it.

Though I'm terrified.

I'm turned on but scared of you…

Oh…

She's a monster.

Beautiful monster.

Beautiful monster.

But I don't mind.

And I need her.

Said I need her.

Beautiful monster.

But I don't mind.

No I don't mind (I don't mind I don't I don't mind).

No I don't mind (I don't mind I don't I don't mind).

No I don't mind (I don't mind I don't I don't mind).

No I don't mind (I don't mind I don't I don't mind).

Naia stood frozen and at a loss for words as she stared at the man she’s been dreaming about.

“It can’t be! You can’t be real.” She stammered.

He looked deep in her eyes.

“This is real Beloved. I’m here.” He said to her.

She still couldn’t believe it.

“But how? You…you aren’t supposed to be real.”

His gaze was soft and she didn’t feel threatened by him. She was just confused and shocked.

“I have been waiting for you Beloved. Welcome home.”

“Home? You mean Hunt’s Peak? I’ve never been there. I literally just got here.”

“I know. Your uncle said you’d be here.”

“Uncle Zane told you I’d be here? I briefly talked to him before I left home.”

“Yes he told me and I couldn’t wait to meet you. May I?” He asked.

She stepped aside to let him in.

“What did my uncle tell you about me?” She asked.

“Well…he failed to say how beautiful you are.” He replied.

She bit her bottom lip and blushed.

“Thank you I think? I’m sorry I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Roman.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Naia.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

And as strange it was to her she felt calm. She wasn’t scared of him. She was more curious than anything.

“It’s okay. But how did you know I was here?” She asked.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere. But one of the employees is a friend of mine and the manager knows your uncle.” He replied.

“So what are you like the sheriff or something?” She asked.

“Something like that. I protect the forest.” He replied.  

“So you're a park ranger?” She asked.

“You could say that.” He replied.

The more she looked at him, the stronger this strange pull between the two grew. There was something about him. That was both thrilling and terrifying. But she felt like a moth to a flame.

In her eyes.

There's love and fire.

And my heart.

She's burning through.

But I don't mind.

In fact I like it.

Though I'm terrified.

I'm turned on but scared of you.

She's a monster (she's a monster).

Beautiful monster (beautiful monster).

Beautiful monster (beautiful monster yeah).

But I don't mind (I don't mind).

And I need her (and I need her).

Said I need her (said I need her).

Beautiful monster (whoa).

But I don't mind (I don't mind I don't I don't mind).

No I don't mind.

She invited him to sit down next to her on the bed. She wanted to know more about him. So she decided to test him.

“Tell me how far is town from here?” She asked him.

“It’s about an hour.” He replied.

“Good. I’ll be there later.”

“It is better for you to leave in the morning.”

“Why?” She asked.

“It’s dark and the road is very treacherous at night. Many dangers.” He replies.  

“Dangers? What like zombies?” She asked.

“Yes. Something like that.” He replies.

She stared at him like he had lost his mind.

“That’s a joke right?” She asked.  

“I never joke Naia.” He replies.

“Ooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy…so you’re Mister Serious. Got it.”

The way he looked at her, made the blood rush to her cheeks. She loved it but didn’t want to admit it. At least not out loud.

“So do you always haunt a girl’s dream?” She asked.

“I’m not a magician if that’s what you’re asking.” He replies.

Just as she was about to ask him another question, she heard a howl.

“What was that?“ she started to ask before he answered quickly. “A wolf. It’s coming from the North.”

“How do you know?” She asked.

“I know these woods and mountains. I know what lives and thrives here.” He replies.

“Is there anything you don’t know?” She asked.

“I don’t know you.” He replies.

“Touché. So what is it you want to know?” She asks.

“Everything. I want to know you. Who are you Naia?” He replies.

“You don’t really want to know everything about me, do you?” She asks.

“Yes. Tell me.” He replies.

“You asked for it.”

When he smiled softly at her, she felt her heart flutter. There was something about him. She felt compelled to bare her soul to him. There she was looking at this strange man and telling him everything about herself. Her successes, her failures, her career, her fears, her joys she even told him about her former lovers.

“Fascinating. You are quite the remarkable woman.”

“Was it too much for you?” She asked shyly.

“No. I like learning about you. You’re not like any woman I have ever met.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Yes, I assure you that it is.”

Just then there was another howl. This one was different from the last. Roman stood up hastily and moved towards the door.

“I must go. I’m sorry.”

“Wait what? But I know nothing about you! How will I find you?” She asked.

He looked at her then held out his right hand. When she took his hand in her own, something sparked. She couldn’t explain it but she felt something deep within her bones. She couldn’t explain what this feeling was. What she didn’t know was that feeling is her bond with him. Soon, she found herself in his arms, gazing up into his eyes.

“Roman I…” she started to say before he silenced her with a kiss.

It was deeper, more intense and powerful than any kiss that she had ever experienced. It wasn’t like the kisses she felt in her dreams. It was real. It was happening. And she couldn’t get enough. When their kiss was over, she felt drunk. And she wasn’t trying to let him go.

“Please don’t go.” She begged.

“I must. But do not worry Beloved. You will see me again real soon.”

“You promise?” She asked.

“Yes Beloved. I promise, you’ll see me again. Especially after tonight.” He replies.

With one last long kiss, Roman was gone. And Naia’s heartbeat and mind were racing. She missed him. She needed him. She longed for him. She couldn’t wait to see and feel him again.

The next day Naia arrived at her uncle’s house and was happy to see him.

“Hi uncle Zane!” She said as greeted him.

“Hey sweetheart! It’s great to see you! Welcome to Hunt’s Peak! Let me look at you. Yup! You look just like your mother!” He said as they hugged.

“It’s good to be here.”

“Come on in the house! I got a pot of my world famous venison stew with your name on it.”

After eating and getting settled in her mother’s old room, she was sitting in the living room with her uncle.  

“It’s great to have you here, Naia.”

“It’s good to be here. I’ve been dying to visit for ages.”

“Good I’m glad. I’m happy that Laurie let you come. How is she by the way?” He asked.

“About that…she doesn’t know that I’m here.” She replied.

“What do you mean your mother doesn’t know?” He asked.

“Her and daddy are in Paris for 2 weeks for their anniversary. I left after they did.” She replied.

Zane sighed heavily.

“Well that explains why you’re here. I should’ve known she’d never change her mind.”

“She mentioned that something happened. Something bad. And it was enough to make her leave and never look back. What happened, uncle Zane? Why did my mom leave?” She asked him.

Zane ran a hand through his hair and over his face before answering.

“Whatever she’s told you, she's right. Something bad did happen and I didn’t believe her. I didn’t protect her. She’s my sister and I should’ve known that she was telling the truth. But I didn’t. We got into an argument one day and I told her that she was lying. I shouldn’t have said that to her. 2 days later she was gone. And I haven’t seen her since. I’ve missed her you know?”

“I understand. I’m sure she misses you too. Even though she’d never say it out loud.”

He smiled softly at his niece.

“How’s your dad?” He asks.

“He’s good. His architecture business is really booming.” She replied.

“I remember when they met. No one was happy about them being together. Least of all me.”

“Daddy’s said something like that before. But he always said it’s because he was an outsider.”

“That’s partially true.”

“What do you mean partially? What’s the other part?” She asked.

“That’s a story for another time, I’m afraid.” He replied.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me. I won’t be mad.” She asks.

“Yes Naia, I’m sure. You know? You should go to town. Meet the people. I’m sure that they’ll be a lot more fun than sitting in the house with me.”

“I actually met someone as a matter of fact. Met him yesterday.”

“You did? Who did you meet?” He asks, surprised by her revelation.

“Someone named Roman. He said that he was a friend of yours.” She replied clearly lying. But she wanted to know if he’d lie to her.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“Yes I know him. He’s well known all around town. I’m surprised you met him already. I didn’t think you two would meet so soon.” He replied.

Naia instantly picked up on the slightly nervous tone in her uncle’s voice. But she decided to keep that to herself as a mental note.

“Besides stare at the woods all day and night, what’s there to actually do around here?” She asked.

“Go down to Buck’s! Best bar and pool hall in West Virginia!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I guess it’s settled. To Buck’s I go!”

After changing, Naia headed to Buck’s. She walked into Buck’s and took a seat at the bar before looking around. She saw people dancing, playing pool, playing poker, drinking and otherwise having a good time. As she turned back to the bar to order a drink, there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned to her left and saw a gorgeous black woman sitting on the stool next to her.

“Hi! You must be Naia!” She said to Naia.

“Ummmmmm yeah…how did you know?” She asked the woman.

“Your uncle called the bar and said you’d be here. I’m Layla. I own the place.” Layla replied.

“Ohhh okay.”

“Yeah so what can I get you?” Layla asks.

“Whiskey double.” Naia replies.

“Coming right up.”

It wasn’t until Layla stood up that Naia noticed that she’s pregnant.

“Oh my goodness! You’re pregnant!”

“Yup! This little one is nearly ready to make their debut.” She said before walking behind the bar.

“Are you sure you should be behind the bar?” Naia asks.

“As sole owner and proprietor? Yeah. I’m fine.” Layla replies as she hands Naia her drink.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Sooooo how do you like town so far?” Layla asks.

“It’s okay. I’m a city girl so this is an adjustment for me.” Naia replies.

“I think it’ll grow on you.”

“You sound confident. How long have you lived here?” Naia asked.

“My whole life. Met my man here too.” Layla replies.

“Ohhh! Didn’t know you were in a relationship.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t live in town but he loves me and our little one just the same.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Why are you still sitting here?” Layla asks.

“Because I don’t know anyone and it would be awkward to just walk up to random strangers?” Naia replies.

“No it wouldn’t. Everyone here is friendly! As the boss of this place I say go mingle!”

Just as Naia got ready to go mingle with others, Roman walked in and Buck’s went silent. He was flanked by 3 men and a woman. When Naia locked eyes with him, she felt her heart and the butterflies in her stomach flutter. He nodded to his crew to take a seat then he turned his attention back to Naia. As he walked towards her, Naia felt like she could attach herself to him.

“I better go fill their orders.” Layla said which seemingly snapped Naia out the trance she was in.

“Huh? What? You say something?” Naia asks.

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Layla replied.

Naia watched her walk over towards Roman’s crew before turning her attention to him. He was gorgeous to her. When he sat down beside her, she felt her knees turn into jello.

“Well hello there.”

“Hello yourself.”

Her heart was doing backflips as she looked at him.

“I went by your uncle’s house and you weren’t there.”

She was taken aback.

“You did?” Naia asks, wanting to see where these questions were going.

“Yes I did. I promised you that I would see you again.” He replies.  

“Yes you did but I didn’t think it would be today.”

His eyes roamed up and down her body and it a shiver running down her spine.

“Why are sitting here by yourself Naia?” He asked.

“I was gonna go play a few rounds of pool but then you and your friends showed up.” She replied.

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. He looked as if he was taking her answer into consideration.

“Dance with me.”

She stared at him.

“Dance with you? Like now?!” She asked.  

He never answered, he just stood up and held out his hand. As of on command she took his hand. He led her to the dance floor as Beautiful Monster by Ne-Yo played in the background.

Naia tried to make sense of what was happening but the more she danced with him, the more she didn’t care. She felt free with him. And ever since their kiss all she wanted was to be close to him.

As the song swelled, he spun her around then pulled her back flush to his chest. She loved the feeling of his arms around her as they danced.

Playing with my heart, mmm.

And she's playing with my mind.

And I don't mind, I don't mind.

No I don't mind, I don't I don't mind.

No I don't mind, I don't I don't mind.

No I don't mind, I don't I don't mind.

And I don't mind.

(I don't mind I don't I don't mind) Said I don't mind.

(I don't mind I don't I don't mind) And I don't mind.

(I don't mind I don't I don't mind) Beautiful monster.

She's a monster (she's a monster).

Beautiful monster (beautiful monster).

Beautiful monster (ooh).

But I don't mind (but I don't mind).

And I need her (and I need her).

Said I need her (said I need her).

Beautiful monster (beautiful monster).

But I don't mind (ooh).

No I don't mind.

No I don't mind.

(I don't mind I don't I don't mind) no I don't mind.

(I don't mind I don't I don't mind ooh) no I don't mind.

Everything in that moment with her felt right. But soon she’d discover that she’d wind up getting more than she ever bargained for.

[flowerslightning]

The OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) in FF7

This thing actually caught my eyes while reading a few theory about FF7R and the word OCD appear in their certain analysis, in IG, youtube comments and some posts in tumblr too. Dunno why but they always relate Biggs with OCD. I looked back to the scenes where Biggs appear and... Okay, i understand why they thinj Biggs has OCD or perfectionist

A lot of people, including the psych students themselves easily confused with OCD and perfectionist (I got confused by it quite often too). Now, is Biggs OCD or is he just a perfectionist? Let's take a deeper look at it

Biggs is not a famous character. So fans dont really care about him, but I do

Disclaimer : i'm not a psychologist. Im an intern and still studying. Psychiatric is not my major field but i got assigned there as an intern for quite a time and we got exposed a lot about psychology too. We didnt learn them professionally like the real psyche students, we learned (and still under training) through real life experience + a little bit from the books.

So there might be wrong interpretation here and there. Pls correct me if I'm misleading u. And pardon my english. Pls dont use any of these terms to diagnose urself. Remember, I'm a student, not a professional.

I kins of blame the social media for portraying OCD in such a nasty way, when someone with OCD is actually suffering inside.

OCD is not just about 'clean clean, must clean this place till squeaky clean' and OCD is not about being perfectionist. OCD and perfectionist are two different thing.

Perfectionist is more to a demand demeanour, eg "I want the cake to be like this. I want it to be pink. No, not that pink, it must be neon pink with slight purple. Do it again. No, i dont want that pink. Do it again. Ahhh yess, nice pink." Someone with perfectionist, after they got their result, they will immediately bcome calm and satisfied. Perfectionist is obviously different from OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder). OCPD falls under Personality Disorder and it is different from OCD. Im not going to talk about that

Credit goes to crazyheadcomics.

Look at how OCD got spoken from the media perspective. It is very much resemble to Biggs, dont u think? In reality, someone with OCD always feel stress about everything around them, and they will find it hard to complete their task.

OCD has two components - Obsessive and Compulsive

| 1. Obsessive. It is a repeating thoughts about something and often occur until it makes someone feel stress about it. Eg, u think that ur hand will get bacteria infection if u touch a chair, door, fridge or when holding someone's hand. This thought always appear in ur mind everytime u touch the door, chair, fridge or somebody's hand, but when u touch ur shoes, u never think about the bacteria (in certain cases, some patients become scare of everything they touch)

| 2. Compulsive. It is a repeating of the same actions to fulfill the 'obsession' in order to reduce the stress acted upon them. Usually the 'action' has a specific ways in which the patient believe he has to do it like this or that way or else he will fail. Eg, after touching the chair, he will immediately wash his hand 10x from left to right. He believes the hand washing wont be effective if he starts from right to left

Another sign of OCD is when someone re-checking the door lock few times. Its normal for us to re-check once/twice the door lock for confirmation, but for people with OCD, they will re-check the door lock for about 6-10 times and still not feel satisfied and later they stress out. And also the OCD people, they tend to get annoyed when something is not in particular order and they will immediately fix it eventhough they know they're wrong.

I met a funny woman at the hosp arranging our students' books according to its thickness, when I asked her why did she arranged our books like that,

She replied : "Doctor said I have CDO"

Me : "Sorry, CDO? Never heard of it"

She : "It is actually OCD but I feel so stress hearing that term so I put it in alphabetical order. CDO, much better"

We both had a good laugh. Her case was not serious though, but she was feeling miserable with her thoughts and decided to meet a psychiatrist. I would say she was still in early stage for someone with OCD, but may lead to severe if left untreated

It is really hard to satisfy and convince someone with OCD and they always feel stress about something they shouldnt care too much about. U can say OCD is a fastidious type, and they're actually more than that

If we want to relate this condition with Bigg's case., urmm. The only time where I can spot him being different than the other characters is when he's busy sweeping his front house and when he pat Cloud's head during the Sector 7 plate fall.

The cleaning stuff isnt exactly weird thing for a human to do. But it is something odd, I mean, he just finished his mission with Jessie and survived a jump from the plate, and yet he still have the energy to sweep dry leaves, AT NIGHT! He can wait till tomorrow though and should get himself a proper rest.

Wedge says Biggs has a habit of overthinking stuff

And there we see Biggs sweeping the dry leaves. It might be because he is trying to distract himself from doing his bad habit - overthinking. But urm , i think there'll be higher chance for someone to overthink when doing house chore like Biggs is doing. This is where lots of people say Biggs cleaning the house at night is bcause he has OCD or he's a perfectionist.

But I dont think thats the case. For real, he is completely normal. No sign of him acting weird in that scene. If he really does have OCD or he's a perfectionist, we'll see more of him arguing with Barret about unnecessary stuff. He cant become one of Avalanche's strongest member (not exactly strong, but hey, he's trustworthy). Also, if u notice, Biggs have one earring on his right ear. Someone with OCD will feel irritated by it bcause his ear doesnt look 'balance'. OCD people, even in mild case, they want everything about them to be balance and in good order.

After trying to understand Biggs way of thinking and style through his short screentime, I strongly believe this guy has no such thing as OCD or being a perfectionist. Biggs just cares tooooo much about his friends, he thinks 10 times ahead from the bigger picture in which it frightens him about the bad consequences that will occur to people he cherish.

He is the type that always have a back up plan in his mind. He thinks of 5 possible bad things and comes out with 10 solutions. That's the power of an overthinker like Biggs I'll tell ya

Biggs probably cleaning his front house area at night bcause the next early morning, he will need to leave his house for the bombing mission. Better take care of things the night before the big day. He can ditch the cleaning work but he wont do it, not bcause he's a perfectionist/OCD, but try to imagine this, if ur front house is full with dry leaves and rubbish, it will be unpleasant for the neighbours next to ur house to see. Living in the slum means higher chance for u to get sick if u dont take care of ur surrounding hygiene. Biggs is a kind man, and I believe he doesnt want to upset his neighbours

He probably has overthink this matter like "If i dont do this now, I probably dont have time for doing it tomorrow. Maybe I'll broke my leg from the mission and this trash will be left untouched, then there'll be high chance for the children around here to get sick. What if they get infectious disease bcause of this dry leaves? And then the parents will be worried and the Sector 7 Slum will be in chaos etc etc. Time for plan A. Let's clean this place"

Besides, remember the post where I mentioned about Mental Health First Aid? Biggs, as the side character gives the best MFA to Cloud even without knowing what Cloud had gone through. Biggs is just toooo kind with his friends, he cares too much causing him to overthinks about his friends conditions. He can notice even the slightest change in his friend's behaviour and with his own instinct, he cheers for them

Aww man, how can u not love his personality? He's the sweetest side character ever (and kinda hot too).

Soo as the conclusion for my post here, Biggs does not have OCD. He's a side character with a big heart who cares tooooooo deeply about his friends that leads him to overthink too much.

However, if the devs say Biggs really has OCD then my statement about him will be invalid. I'm sure they have put everything in a very close detail look.

Btw, I personally think Biggs kind of portrays the other small side of Cloud, the overthinking part for their romantic partner. But Biggs express his worry through words while Cloud express it through his actions, eg - like how he always keep an eye on Tifa. He never speak it directly like "I'm worry about Tifa, I must help her", he just simply be with her either she needs a help or not. While Biggs clearly says "Jessie been acting weird, I should go if she needs any - help -"

Action speaks louder than words but sometimes our eyes failed to listen.

Alright, that's it. Thanks for being with me till the end.

[anime-alyssa]

ooo, can i request something? i read your latest fic and woo, got me steamy, haha. i'm wanting to write my own version of this but want to request it to you as well! can i have one where kylo and reader have a nasty split, she goes on to try and find another suitable man to take place of ren. but anytime she does, kylo penetrates her mind? you can take it from there, thanks in advance!

THIS EXCITES ME SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR SUBMITTING IT I HOPE I DID YOU PROUD!

smut below cut

—–

It was a messy break up. You and Kylo had been arguing about something, that was in your opinion stupid, and rather than attempting to sort it out he just decided to end the relationship, storming out of your quarters and leaving you a crying heap on the floor. Soon after your friends came back and found you, helping you fix yourself up to feel better. You didn’t see him for nearly two weeks after that and two weeks after that Hux re-assigned you to work on a different part of the ship. He wanted nothing to do with you anymore and you accepted it, deciding it was time to move on from him. Your friends helped boost your confidence back up to what it was when you were trying to seduce your Supreme Leader, helped you meet other men in your new area of the ship, and sent you off on date after date. Much to your surprise, no one seemed to care who you had been with beforehand.

Every single date you went on, without fail, you would end the night with a terrible migraine. It would start the second you met up with the man and end almost immediately after you got back to your quarters. At first you apologized profusely for how awful you felt, and thankfully the guy who stuck around seemed to be into you enough to understand, and even offered to help try to find a cure for your migraines - but after you noticed a pattern you started to have a hunch as to what, or rather who, was causing your migraines. Not only that, but after you would remotely feel like getting serious with any of the men, they would be reassigned to something off of the ship. Immediately the next day - by orders of Supreme Leader Ren.

You ranted to your friends about your hunch and they agreed with you on it, but no one quite understood why he was doing it. You remember everything quite clearly - he was the one who wanted to end things. He was the one who walked out, and now he was dare you say jealous of seeing you with other men? You were sick of it but toughed it out in hopes that eventually he would just give up and see that he doesn’t effect you anymore.

Turns out you were wrong on both accounts.

You were laying next to your hopeful new man in his quarters after a date, about to start heavily making out when you felt your migraine. Not about to let him ruin your night, you kept going. It was all going well until he projected images of the two of you into your head. You broke apart from your new man, apologized for the migraine again, and left. The next day he messaged you saying that you couldn’t be together anymore because Ren had reassigned him to an Outer Rim planet.

You were done. You needed to know why he insisted on butting into your dating life when he had no interest in you. He left you - not the other way around. This was his fault. And now when you were finally moved on from him he had the audacity to ruin it for you? Just because he couldn’t manage to be happy didn’t mean that you couldn’t be happy. Your friends tried to fight you on the matter but your mind was made up - you were going to confront him.

After your shift you made your way across the ship, back straight and head held high. Heads turned when people saw the direction you were heading in but you didn’t care. People gossiped on this ship and rumors started spreading about people being reassigned after trying to date you, hence another reason why you needed to stop this. Kylo Ren was in for an earful from you and you definitely were not scared of him one bit. Even Hux gave you a curt nod as you walked down the hallway to his quarters. The door opened as you neared it, knowing he was expecting you.

“Cut the shit, Kylo.” you said to him as you walked in, door sliding shut behind you. You found him standing by his bed, looking at you with a glare on his face. You forced your feelings back into the depths of your mind, causing him to smirk. Shit, he sensed that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He replied back, slowly walking over to you. You laughed, rolling your eyes at him as he neared.

“Oh that’s bantha and you know it. Stop getting in my head and reassigning people just because you’re to idiotic to accept that you messed up and now your jealous.” You said to him. He paused in the middle of the room, balling up his fists at his side and trying to manage his anger. You had hit him where it hurt - the truth was out. He was jealous.

“I don’t get jealous.” He said through gritted teeth, anger boiling up inside of him.

“Then stop entering my head!” You shouted, going to turn on your heel to leave. Suddenly you couldn’t move, every joint in your body was frozen and you were stuck in place. “Let me go.” you asked of him. You felt his presence behind you and he ran his hand along your cheek gently.

“You’re a terrible liar. You want to say you’ve moved on but you haven’t. I know you better than you know yourself, gorgeous.” he said in your ear, gently pushing your hair to the side and placing his lips on your neck, gently nibbling and sucking at the skin causing you to gasp. He chucked against your skin and put another arm around your waist, bringing his body to yours. You couldn’t hold back anymore - you let a barely audible moan escape your lips. But he heard it - because of course he did.That was all he needed to hear from you. Kylo let go of your body with the force and picked you up, swooping you over to the bed and throwing you down on your back. “This is what you want, isn’t it? This is what you really want.” he said lowly in your ear. He took one of your breasts in his hands - emitting another moan from your mouth. “Say it.” he growled, a tent in his pants becoming very obvious.

“I want…” you breathed out, trailing off at the end as another hand went in between your legs and up your skirt, nearing your sensitive bud.

“You want what?” he asked, fingers raising up more, briefly passing over your wet cunt and making you moan again.

“I want you - please, Kylo.” you whined. He smirked as he tore your skirt off your body and your panties afterwards. His mouth watered at the sight of your glistening cunt waiting for him to devour it. Kylo licked his lips as he moved towards your cunt, licking his lips one last time before placing them on your folds. “Oh!” you moaned out as his tongue worked magic on you, slurping up your juices as they came out of you. If there was one thing this man loved doing, it was eating you out. And oh boy, did he do a good job with it. Your body was trembling as he worked to make you come undone under him - to show you had you had been missing for these weeks apart. He gave out a satisfied hum reading your thought, the vibration of the hum on your cunt making you loudly moan and arch your hips up to meet his face. Your release was creeping up on you and you knew that he wanted nothing more than to hear you scream his name as you came. “Fuck, Kylo!” you groaned, feeling your walls start to tighten inside of you. Just as you were about to reach your peak he took his lips away from your cunt, making you whine.

“You cum when I say you can.” he growled to you, fumbling to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Eventually he did it, thick cock bouncing down as he freed it, hard as a rock. It was your time to have your mouth water now at the sight of him. You did him a favor by spreading your legs open for him, allowing him easier access to exactly where you wanted him to be. He took the hint and lined himself up, clearly eager to fuck the lights out of you.

Once he was lined up with your entrance he took no hesitation in plowing himself inside you, emitting a moan from your mouth and his. He repositioned his knees so he could create a steady pace for himself as he thrust into you with vigor, groaning with every thrust eager to relieve his own frustrations. He was thrusting hard and sloppy as he tried to over power you with his body. You moaned out his name with every thrust, your moans and his grunts echoing along the walls of his quarters. You felt your orgasm building up inside of you once more, digging your nails into his clothed shoulder blade for support as you were so close to tipping over the edge.

“Kylo, I need to - please.” you stuttered out. You begged him mentally to let you cum - pleaded.

“Who’s the only one who can have you?” he growled out as he lost his pace, lost in his own euphoria trying to prolong his high for as long as possible. “Who makes you cum? Tell this whole fucking ship who does this to you.” he shouted down at you.

“You do! You - oh fuck Kylo!” you screamed out, feeling your back arch against the mattress and slamming your hips up to meet his as your orgasm took over. You saw stars in your eyes as your pussy clenched over his cock, sending him over the edge as well. It twitched inside of you as you milked it, burying his seed deep within you. He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavy and sweat lining his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized. Your eyes widened hearing the words as you wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I know I’m a lot to handle. I missed you.” he buried his head in your neck, still buried inside you. You sighed as he placed a kiss on your neck gently.

“I missed you too.”

[recurring-polynya]

Hello! I have forgotten my tumblr login, but I am shai from AO3 and I just want to say that the Abhorsen books are very dear to my heart and I am THRILLED at idly wandering tumblr and seeing you're writing a Bleach AU set in that world. (Are the Kuchikis the Abhorsens? Is there a Mogget equivalent and is it Yoruichi? Is Karakura in Ancelstierre? I can't map the two settings together at alllll in my head on first glance but I'm super curious how you will!)

First of all, I am beyond excited that anyone actually cares about this project. I was going to try to explain it, but honestly, it’s not that long and, uh, maybe I should just post it. So, here’s the shorty version, where I cut it off at the Dramatic Drabble Point. I have more, but it starts to meander into an actual plot, where the plot is just the final confrontation at the end of Sabriel. I honestly just wanted to write Renji as part of the Crossing Guard Scouts?? I might expand this (how much? as much as I feel like?) after I re-read Sabriel. My husband has been reading the books to my son, and I catch snatches of it and it’s got me In the Mood, but I found myself forgetting way too much. 

Dear everyone else: I refuse to explain any of this. The Abhorsen books are the shit, just go read them. If you love Rukia as a character, you will love Sabriel. The two of them, along with Susan Sto Helit and Death of the Endless are the fictional pragmatic death girls of my heart, if I *ever* write an actual book, it will almost surely be about a pragmatic death girl.

Anyway, here it is, The Worst Charter Mage in Ancelstierre.

“All that stuff Colonel Zaraki said… about a soldier’s intuition an’ stuff… that was just made up, right? To scare us? Us, uh, new guys, I mean, you never get scared, right Renji?” 

Captain Abarai Renji of the Northern Perimeter Reconnaissance Unit, or the Crossing Point Scouts, as they were often known, stared out into the foggy dusk. His skin itched. His ears strained to hear the unearthly whistling of the wind flutes, which as far as he knew, none of the other scouts could hear. He could usually hear them, but not tonight. “Stop cleaning that damn firearm Yuki,” he grumbled without turning around. “Check your sword fittings instead.”

Lance Corporal Yuki Rikichi, having been stationed on the Perimeter for all of two months, very slowly started reassembling his pistol. “I’m not great with swords,” he admitted.

“Wind’s from the north,” Renji grunted. “Guns ain’t much good.”

“That’s just stories, though, right?”

“Nope,” Renji replied, squinting at a dark shape winging through the sky. It looked a bit like the airplanes he had seen when we went South for officer training, but it was too small, too silent, and besides, shit like that didn’t work past the Wall. He groped for his spyglass. “You think you can do that protection charm I been teaching you?”

“Yeah, I’ve practiced and practiced!” Rikichi bubbled eagerly.

Renji frowned, trying to focus the spyglass. If tonight was going to go as badly as his skin was crawling, that protection charm was going to do about as much good against the Dead as Rikichi hurling his useless gun at them. “Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s a someone.” 

“A what?” Rikichi echoed. 

“We got visitors,” Renji repeated, standing and checking the sword strapped his hip. “You go tell the Colonel, I’ll give ‘em the ol’ Crossing Scout welcome.”

“I can’t leave you alone!” Rikichi yelped. “Look, I’ll just radio him.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Renji shrugged, making his way down the stone staircase of the watchtower, knowing that piece of Ancelstierran junk would give nothing but static until the wind changed.

As Renji watched the strange craft circle down toward the ground, he tried to pull together the Charter Marks for a Major Blessing. It wasn’t a hard spell, and it would protect him from the Lesser Dead, maybe even a weak Free Magic Creature. As usual, the marks weren’t behaving, and he finally gave up. He didn’t know why he had such a hard time casting spells. None of the books he read ever described Charter Marks as elusive or mischievous. Was it like this for all Charter Mages? Maybe if he ever met another one, he could ask them. He was going to have to rely on his sword arm instead. Fortunately, his sword arm was pretty fucking reliable. 

The craft had settled in the tall grass, and two figures were getting out. It looked remarkably like an airplane, except that it appeared to be made of paper, painted in cheerful blue and silver. It was powered by Charter Magic, Renji had heard the pilot whistling Charter Marks as they brought the thing to the ground. Pretty nifty trick, to be honest. Must be from deep in the Old Kingdom, where they still taught the old magic. Renji himself had been born just a few miles from the Wall, lived in that shitty border town until he was sixteen. He’d come south thinking he never wanted to see a Charter Stone again, but somehow, he’d never made it much further south than the Perimeter, not for long anyway. It was fine. He was useful here. 

Renji gripped his sword with one hand. They looked and felt like people, but Free Magic Creatures could be tricksy. “Halt!” he shouted. “Who goes there? This is not a legal crossing point! What is your name? What is your business?”

The taller of the two figures, clad in a red and gold helmet and a red cloak, leaned down and said something to the much smaller figure, the pilot, who was dressed in blue and silver. The pilot elbowed the other in the ribs and then announced in a voice that rang with authority, “I am the Abhorsen and if you don’t help me, this gate is going to fall before dawn!”

Renji drew his sword. “I’ve met the Abhorsen!” he shouted. “You sure don’t look like that tall, pretty bastard to me!”

The pilot, who had been slowly approaching him, froze in her tracks. “That… was my brother-in-law,” she bit off. “How did you know him? He never came this far south.” She was silent for a moment before adding tentatively, “Also, he wasn’t the Abhorsen, although sometimes he let people believe he was.”

Renji’s fingers twitched on his sword grip. No. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. The voice was different, huskier, more mature, but then, it had been twelve years, she wasn’t a girl anymore. Not that she’d grown much. “I am simply returning her to her family,” that pale, flash prat had said, as he pulled her up onto the horse behind him, and rode away with the one person who gave Renji’s life any meaning or purpose. “Not one step further,” he shouted, since he didn’t think he could keep his voice steady any other way. “I don’t care if you’re the bloody Queen of the Old Kingdom herself!”

Something was happening with the taller of two visitors. Dark red energy, nearly black was crackling around his fists, the ozone smell of Free Magic permeating the air. Renji tried again to pull a Mark from the Charter, and this time one came easily, and he felt an invisible barrier thrum into place before him. It was no diamond of protection, but it should be enough to fend of some upstart teen.

“Cool it, you moron!” the pilot yelled at the youth. “The Scouts are good people, they just get hung up on procedure. Also… I… might know this guy.” She reached up and hooked a finger over the scarf wrapped over her face and pulled it down, tucking it under her chin. “Abarai Renji? ‘Zat you?”

“Rukia…” Renji murmured just as there was a clatter of boots on bitumen behind him. 

“WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?” a familiar voice bellowed. “Abarai, you got your sword out and there ain’t no blood on it, what’s going on?”

“Says she’s the Abhorsen, sir,” Renji reported, adjusting his sword stance but not relaxing. “Don’t look like the Abhorsen I remember.”

Colonel Zaraki strode through the company of men who had accompanied him, towering, helmetless, his hawklike nose catching the setting sun. He surveyed the young woman standing before.

“The wall is going to be attacked, tonight!” she shouted. “A massive army of the Dead, led by a necromancer who is himself one of the Greater Undead!  Are you the commanding officer of this garrison?”

“Abhorsen came through here in ‘87,” Zaraki grunted. “Clever woman. After the fuckers down south stopped letting us move the gate every few months, all the deaths at the crossing point would build up, cause spontaneous risings. She carved us those wind flutes to keep the Dead down.” He surveyed the woman, dressed in a blue and silver tabard over silver chain. Her dark, short-cropped hair, the stunning indigo eyes Renji would never, ever forget. “Looked a lot like you. Your mother?”

“Sister,” Rukia corrected. It was Rukia, Renji was sure of it now. Of course she hadn’t been taken away to be a noble, she’d been taken away to be the fucking Abhorsen. Of course she had.

“If you’re the Abhorsen now, that means–”

“She went into Death four days ago. She’s holding out, but she’s been there too long, she can’t come back. At the full of the moon, the wind flutes will fail.”

“That the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting, then?”

Rukia’s eyes darted to the youth at her side and back again. “Maybe. This is Kurosaki. He is what he is.”

“Yo,” Kurosaki waved, seemingly unconcerned by any of this.

Zaraki jerked his chin at Renji. “Stand down, Captain. You been on the Wall too long to be this twitchy.”

“Don’t trust people who ‘are what they are’,” Renji replied. “Sounds to me like something a Free Magic Construct would say.” He sheathed his sword, but didn’t release the Charter Mark.

“He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a Free Magic Construct,” Rukia rolled her eyes.

“I’m standin’ right here, y’know!” Kurosaki protested.

“What do you need, Abhorsen?” Zaraki asked.

Renji glanced at him, surprised. He’d served under the man for over a decade, and he’d never seen him act this respectfully to anyone, including his own COs.

“I need every Charter Mage you’ve got,” Rukia barked. “Aizen has hidden his body in Ancelstierre, a few miles from here. We need to destroy it, but it’s going to take a ton of power to destroy something that powerful.”

Zaraki scratched his ass thoughtfully. “You may not realize, ma’am, but we don’t get a whole lot of Charter Mages this far south. My boys, though, have got swords like you’ve never seen. Zaraki’s Company can cut through anything, living, Dead, or in-between.”

“That’s very nice,” Rukia bit off, “because they are going to have an awful lot of things to stab in just a few hours. But I need Charter Mages. I don’t care if there aren’t many. Please. Give me what you have.”

Zaraki took a deep, resigned breath through his nose. “Well. You heard the lady, Abarai. Take that fucking apprentice the boys down south sent you, too. You managed to teach him anything yet?”

“Not… much…” Renji admitted, stunned.

“What, what?” Kurosaki exploded. “You’ve only got a single Charter Mage?”

“He’s terrible, also,” Zaraki added. “Worst Charter Mage I’ve ever seen, aside from the apprentice. Good with a sword, though, one of the best in the company to be honest.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir,” Renji grouched. Suddenly, he realized that Rukia was looking at him, and he felt like he was eleven years old again, meeting her for the first time, being judged by those eyes and, inexplicably, being found worthy. “I’ll go. At your service. Abhorsen.”

[drblood-bringer-of-death]

Yay! Another Tyrian x Watts fanfiction for Nuts and Volts week! Seriously I cant get enough of these guys! Anyway, hope everyone over at @nutsandvoltsweek enjoys it!

Waltzing into love

Warnings: literally just some mild cursing.

They hated it. Every single second of being stuck in the stuffy, crowded room full of pompous, rich assholes. Arthur glared at anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him and he stayed as far away from the dance floor as possible. He hated parties as much as he hated people. He would much rather be back in the grimm lands, tinkering away at his inventions without a single interruption. But he was not the only one who hated being there. As grand and beautiful as Atlesian parties were, they had a very strict policy to them. No Faunus, No improper dress, and absolutely No exceptions. Tyrian, as sporadic and chaotic as the man was, unfortunately was the best fit to go with Arthur to this party. Salem decided that Hazel would be too intimidating, Emerald and Mercury were too young,  and Cinder would have stuck out like a sore thumb. So Tyrian was voluntold to attend as Arthur's date. He sulked even more than Arthur did. He might have even hated it more than the mustached man. Due to the strict policy, Tyrian had to wear what he considered "constrictive" clothing. And worst of all he couldn't even use his tail! Arthur had insisted he hide it, since it was against the rules. Tyrian fought him on it, to no avail as he knew Arthur was right. So the two brooded in their fancy clothing in a corner of the ballroom. They avoided everyone and if it wasn't for Arthur's accursed reputation he would have never even attended this godforsaken party. Maybe he could figure out some way to fake his death or even actually die just to avoid these parties.

"This is pointless!" Tyrian growled.

"It's not entirely pointless, but it's Incredibly dull." Arthur retorted, focusing all his attention on his scroll.

"Why did I have to come here?! I hate this! I feel like I'm restricting all my natural instincts!" Tyrian continued to complain as he pulled on the dark purple tie around his neck.

"Stop pulling at that you'll undo it! And you know why she chose you to come with me. And stop tugging on the tie!" Arthur said angrily as he turned towards Tyrian, who had managed to actually undo his tie. "How did you even? Ugh just let me fix it!" Arthur swatted away Tyrians hands and grabbed ahold of the tie. Fastening it once again.

"Ahem, am I interrupting anything?" The unwanted and annoying voice of Jaques Schnee broke through Arthurs grumbling. His brow twitched in annoyance and he sighed before facing the unbearable aristocrat.

"Why Jaques, what a pleasure to see you again." Arthur lied through his teeth.

"A pleasure as well. Who, may I ask, are you?" He directed the question towards Tyrian who stiffened as a response.

"Uh, Tyrian Callows, associate of Watts here." He shook the older man's hand in forced politeness.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Callows. I had no idea Arthur was into such… interesting company." His tone of voice and the way he glanced at Arthur smugly,  clearly portrayed that he suspected something else. "why I'd even say you might be planning something… more forbidding." Tyrian pailed, could he really figure them out that easily? He looked at Arthur and they shared a panicked look.

"Jaques if you're suggesting-" Arthur started to accuse him but Jaques cut him off.

"Oh come now Arthur, you know i wouldn't care if you were gay, it's quite common nowadays, and I've been suspecting it for a while anyway-" Watts and Tyrians faces went bright red. "I was simply baffled that you managed to find someone to deal with your arrogance." He finished.

"I-my arrogance- excuse me?!" Arthur said offhandedly. Jaques only laughed at him.

"Relax, you know that the General himself is gay right? Really it doesn't matter here, why not show some affection! Have a dance or two! There's nothing to hide." And before Arthur, pr even Tyrian for that matter, could stutter out a response Jaques turned on his heels and walked away smirking.

"Does he think-? I mean really?" Tyrian asked before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. His entire body shook with each inhale of breath. As he laughed and laughed Arthur's face grew more and more red, out of both embarrassment and anger.

"You shut up!" He snapped at Tyrian. Whose laughter seemed never ending. Making Arthurs anger grow.

"Re- hehehe- relax Arthur. Haha, as far as we know, this could be an advantage." Tyrian offered through dying giggles.

"What do you mean?" Arthurs anger sizzled but he stopped feeling the innate need to punch the Faunus. Tyrian wiped a tear from his eye.

"Well think about it. You could gain some massive publicity points if you came out as gay, and if we did it here it would be massively successful. All we have to do is dance a little bit and maybe hold hands. People will come to the conclusion on their own and it'll be all over the news tomorrow. "Infamous inventor Arthur Watts supporting his community through love!" Can you imagine that?" Arthur paused.

Unhinged, deranged, murderous, insane… and intelligent. Those are the words Arthur would use to describe Tyrian right now. As unpredictable as the man is, he could read people and play off them better than even Salem herself.

"That… could work." Arthur poundered. The plan was foolproof, and even if it went wrong then it would cause protests in the communities drawing grimm in. "Yes. It would work quite well." Arthur hummed to himself and Tyrian smirked.

"Well then let's get to it and put on a show!" He cheered in a manic giggle as he pulled Arthur away from their protective corner and into the center of the dancefloor. Arthur huffed behind him, not expecting the pull. Although he should really expect everything from Tyrian.

"I told you to relax already Arthur! All we need to do is dance a bit and act all coupley." Tyrian smirked again and Arthur got some sort of primal feeling in his gut to run. As if something far more sinister than even they had planned was happening. But he ignored it, it was not the first, or last, time he would have that feeling while with the scorpion.

"It's Impossible to relax with you" he retorted harshly, shifting himself and Tyrian into a waltzing position. Slowly the music ran through the room and the many people around them began to move to the three step beat.

"Your words wound me Arthur," Tyrian mocked. "I'm the most relaxing person I know! Well besides Hazel." He held back a giggle.

"Your a caffeinated maniac trapped inside a padded room. I absolutely do not find you relaxing!" Arthur all but growled.

"A bit touchy aren't you? Was it something that Mr. Schnee said that caught your nerves?" He smirked wildly at Arthur who tried his best to keep his composure. As he tried to calm his breathing Tyrians insane smile reached his eyes. "Oh my, your heart rate picked up! I must be onto something!" Arthur started to panic.

"You did not- wait you can sense my heart rate? No, nevermind that!" He attempted to gather his thoughts as he and Tyrian glided across the ballroom floor, sliding in time with everyone around them. If you weren't right next to the pair it would be like they were just enjoying themselves and not having a frantic argument.

"Poor Arthur Watts, not admitting that old Mr. Schnee was right! What an exciting evening this has become!" Tyrians giggles seemed to pour out of his mouth.

"Would you just shut up! I've already said that to you tonight, you psychopath! Now stop talking and lets finish this stupid dance!" Arthur was pissed off now, he couldn't stand looking at Tyrians pretty eyes or his handsome face any longer. So he decided to do something about it. As the song approached it's climax he brought Tyrian into a sudden spin, catching the scorpion off guard. As he pulled Tyrian back into him, he made up his mind. Placing one foot behind Tyrians and throwing his center of balance off, he dipped the younger man. He heard people around them gasp, some of them seemed shocked, but through all the noise he heard two distinct things. One: Jaques Schnee saying " I called it!", and two, Tyrian Callows' sharp inhale of breath. He pulled them back up. Releasing Tyrians lips as he did, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

Tyrian stumbled, that was not expected at all. He knew Arthur was gay but he never dared to dream that Arthur liked him. He got over the shock, more delayed than he'd like, but nevertheless he rushed after Arthur and found the man pacing an empty hallway.

"Why did I do that? What was the logic of that? It was pointless, im pointless. For fucks sake we're both adults why couldn't I just talk to him!?" Arthur mutters to himself as he paced, not even noticing that Tyrian was right next to him. "Damnit, that was so stupid! Why is he so handsomely intimidating? What can't I just be normal-"

"Because you're Arthur Watts, inventor and doctor, smarter than anyone else i know and absolutely hopelessly in love with me" Tyrian interrupted, his voice caught Arthur off guard and he would never admit how much that genuinely scared him.

"Ty- Tyrian look, what I-" he was cut off as said man lunged at him suddenly, crowding his precious space.

"Just shut up and kiss me again" the scorpion demanded as he rolled his eyes and pulled Arthur into him. Their lips crashed together again, yet the feeling was different. Before Arthur could barely feel the kiss at all, but now he felt like sparks were flying down his spine and static was invading his mind. Arthur let himself fall mentally, his brilliant mind failing him when he needed it most, so he just let it happen. Let his body do the talking for once.

Tyrian on the other hand was practically shaking with joy, he had a crush on the doctor for a while now but he truly never believed Arthur would like him back, let alone make the first move! He could not be happier even if his own goddess showed up just then! He felt as if nothing could ruin this sweet moment of love. And he was right, not a soul came out of the party to find them and they were left alone in the hallway. As Tyrian let go of Arthur he smiled. Not a crazed, classic Tyrian smile, but a calm, genuine one. Arthur felt his heart skip more than one beat, and he was sure Tyrian felt it too. Soon enough Tyrians soft laughter bubbled out of his mouth.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, his usual scoff lightened just a touch.

"Well the fact that we literally waltzed into love." Arthur's eyes rolled.

"That was cheesy." He huffed as he set his head on Tyrians shoulder.

"No, parmesan is cheesy." Arthur sighed. The moment was ruined by the man who created it. And he could not help the small smile that was hidden by his mustache. Maybe tonight was worth the party.