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devintrinidad · 5 years

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Charlastor Week #6: Hurt/Comfort

Charlie had told her it was best that they stayed separate for now.

Charlie had told her that it was best that they break things off now before things would get worse.

Charlie had told her many things, but she didn’t expect that any of them would have a positive effect on Vaggie—or her.

For now, as Charlie huddled in the one place that no one would ever check (the rightmost stall of a bathroom in desperate need for renovation on a floor that was evacuated due to a brawl a few weeks ago), she would just relax and let none of her worries touch her now.

But that’s what Charlie had been busy telling herself for over three hours. However, all she could do right now was sit and cry while browsing all of her albums featuring her beloved partner when they had all those good times trying to redeem fellow sinners or hanging out or that one time—Oh! Why was Charlie doing this to herself! This was torture of the sweetest kind! A part of her wanted to throw her phone into the deep, disgusting bowels of the toilet beneath her, but another part was too damn sentimental and wanted to hold onto that phone like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Charlie loathed the position that she was in, but after the events of last night…

Suddenly, Charlie heard a disturbance in the darkness. It was faint, but repetitive. And it was coming closer.

Footsteps, she knew that it in the back of her mind. However, she didn’t want to contend with the fact that either someone found her or worse, someone was just stumbling in on this part of the building. Whatever the case, she simply tightened her arms around her knees and stifled her sniffles. It wouldn’t do for someone to see her so weak and vulnerable. Especially since she hasn’t told anyone, save for Vaggie, about what happened.

The hands that clenched at her knees became unbearable; they were too tight. Her nails, always kept short to prevent them growing into claws, dug deep into her skin, almost drawing blood. There was only so much that Charlie could do before—

The bathroom door slowly creaked open and the footsteps from before clacked loudly on the linoleum. Ah, she could recognize that telltale click clack of dress shoes anywhere. It was Alastor and by God, she didn’t want to have this on her plate as well. Holding her breath wouldn’t work, Charlie knew that his ears could hear the most imperceptible of sounds. It was only a matter of time.

“Oh, Charlie,” his voice was mirthful, but not unkind. He had stepped in front of her chosen stall. Thankfully, he didn’t see fit to slam his fist upon the door or worse, force his way in. Having the Radio Demon also be a gentleman from a bygone era had its downsides, but for now, it saved her from seeing him.

For now.

“I know that I can be intimidating, but it’s been years since you’ve last stuttered around me!” He chuckled and the low, mellow tones had Charlie minutely relaxing within the hold of her arms. Still, she kept her breathing quiet. There was a pause outside of the door, an audible one that was only signaled by the radio frequency stuttering around a bit before going back to its scheduled programming. “Darling, Vaggie told me to come find you, which is a miracle no one asked for in Hell, but oh well.” Charlie could practically see him shrug comically in her mind’s eye, the image of which almost had her smiling into the crook of her elbow.

“Ah,” Charlie managed to croak. Her voice was shaky, like an old rickety building just moments away from crumbling away. “Did… Did Vaggie… Did she…” Why did it hurt to say her name so much? Saying a name shouldn’t have held so much power, but here was Charlie, wasting away in a cell of her own making while her dearest love’s name scratched and clawed at her throat while the pit in her stomach threatened to swallow her soul whole. A soft whimper left her lips and she nearly had an aneurysm. Alastor was here! He could hear her breathing, possibly the way her heart was beating at a rate that would have been harmful to humans. Of course he would be able to hear her!

Despite his excellent hearing, Alastor refrained from commenting on Charlie’s state of mind. Instead, he surprised Charlie with an observation.

“It was Extermination Day yesterday. Was it not?”

“Er…I’m pretty sure you of all people know that.” She didn’t mean to sound so mean, but where was he going with this? On top of that, he didn’t even bother answering her question. “What does that have to do—“

“And your…uncles came to visit you. Alone.” Another observation. A stone cold fact that chilled Charlie to the bone. No one knew about that. Not even Vaggie. How could—? “Darling,” he said easily, as if he could see her expression from the other side of the bathroom stall, “you weren’t really that secretive yesterday. Vaggie had me tail you. A risky, but bold move. Entertaining, even.”

Charlie felt like he should have laughed at that moment, he was an entertainer, he knew when certain beats and phrases were emphasized, yet… He kept his voice subdued. It was almost as if he were respecting the ordeal that she had gone through yesterday.

“So… you heard everything?” She chuckled bitterly. “Does… she know?”

“If you are referring to your dear lady friend, then yes. That woman put her spear to my throat and of course, I had to tell her everything lest you want to run this hotel all by yourself.” His voice, even lower than before caressed her ears and had her looking up at the stall door in wonderment. “I know that I shouldn’t pry into your affairs, but it’s quite telling that I’m being the mediator between the two of you when it should be me stirring up chaos in my wake. Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”

“Feel? Feel?” Charlie threw herself off the toilet seat and wrenched the door open. Miraculously, Alastor managed to avoid being hit as the door swung wide in his direction. Normally, Charlie would have taken care not to make such a fuss, but at heart, she was a soul that felt too much at times. She needed to let it all out, no matter the consequences. “How would you feel if your partner was destined to be taken away within a year because your stupid plan worked? How would you feel that no matter what you do, you can’t join her because of your parents? Because of the place where you were born? How would you feel if your girlfriend who loves and trusts you so much decides to leave your side for good because—because—because—“

With every question she threw at Alastor, the Princess of Hell would poke him in the chest, all pretense of acting the fool in their business relationship thrown to the wayside. She didn’t care that Alastor was seething underneath that damnable grin of his. She didn’t care that her voice was loud and that half of Hell could hear her. She didn’t care that water was dripping down her lashes and onto the full apples of her cheeks. She didn’t care that heat was rushing towards her flushing face, how she wobbled and screamed for some sort of sign that all of this was a nightmare.

After what had seemed like an eternity of spewing out questions that Alastor couldn’t have possibly known the answer to, Charlie had fallen silent. Her head was bowed low, fists clenched and trembling at her sides. Her hair, usually gently curled and vibrant, was matted down to her scalp, tangled because in her frustration, she would tug at her locks. For a moment, there was not a sound in the bathroom; for once, there was radio silence.

When Alastor spoke, the filter that masked his voice was gone. His words were crisp and clear, as was tradition of the Mid-Alantic accent, but there was another accent layered underneath his main mode of speaking. His consonants were rounded off, his vowels drawled and blurred together. Belatedly, Charlie realized that he was a Southerner, which matched up to his chosen cuisine whenever he would cook, but she had never asked. Never confirmed what was probably so obvious during their time together as business partners.

“Charlie, I wouldn’t know how to answer any of those questions. To be honest, I don’t think I would ever have the heart or the stomach to even try to attempt to phrase such sentiments.” Charlie felt rather than saw that Alastor was looming over her, his shadow encompassing her much smaller frame. She shuddered when she felt his clawed hand rest against her locks, had tried blinking away tears when he began combing through them with a gentleness befitting a mother grooming her child. “But, my dear, you can. I’ll be the first to attest that Vaggie was in hysterics when you ran away from her. She went from yelling to pleading with me to find you.” He tugged Charlie closed and rested his head on top of Charlie’s. “Imagine that, your dear love acting quite the sweetheart to me when she knew that you were going to fall to pieces.”

Charlie sucked in a deep breath. “She probably hates me for doing this to her.”

Alastor stopped his gentle petting before pulling away from her.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Have her fall in love with me. Allow her to date me. Get her sucked up into the hotel redemption schtick and then—and then—“ She shrugged her shoulders, not noticing how Alastor’s radio static seemed to grow erratic and imbalanced. “Well, you were there when Uncle Michael, Uncle Raphael, and whoever else was there when they told me. At least they gave me one year to say goodbye.”

“I probably should have known this before I’ve ever properly introduced myself, but you are very conceited, my dear.”

Charlie’s head whipped up from gazing down at the floor and straight into the Radio Demon’s eyes. For the first time since Alastor had stepped into her bathroom, she noticed that he looked…ragged, well more ragged than usual. His eyes were glowing a faint red, which only heightened the shadows that lay under his eyes. His clothing was bedraggled and torn, flecks of blood and an assortment of dirt was layered over his customary jacket. He was, in the words of one Husker, looking like shit.

She brought a hand up to her ashen lips, tears springing anew in her eyes.

He was telling the truth; he really had been following her to the meeting place with the angels. Had she known that he would have followed her into the forest where sinners first appeared from Earth, she would have picked somewhere closer. And cleaner.

Now, all her guilt over what happened last night was compiling into one burden.

“A-al! Have you slept at all?” She cried as she hurried to him. A hand brushed against his cheeks, another straightened the lapels of his coats. He was always well dressed—putting on the ritz, he would say. This was simply unacceptable for the Radio Demon! “I’m so sorry—“

He shook his head lowly at her. “You should know better by now, I don’t sleep.”

“But I’m worried and I can help you—“

“And therein lies your problem. You’re so compassionate and wanting to do good by others; you want to bear the loads of everyone around you. Yet, you don’t care. Not at all.” He held up a hand, effectively stopping Charlie from demanding what he meant. “You claim to start redemptive therapy for the good of all sinners. You claim to want everyone to end up in Heaven. You claim you’re doing this to stop overpopulation in Heaven. But. You. Don’t. Care.

“You’re doing this because you want to be there. Your blood that runs through your veins calls out for the sweet ambrosia of God’s love and acceptance. You want it, you crave it. So you get an idea; do enough good deeds that are worth mentioning to the higher-ups in Heaven. Along comes someone who believes in your cause. Another one joins just to jumpstart the business. Another, another, another, and you feel like you’re actually succeeding, but in reality, you’re just gathering up the clout, the good points to get you into Heaven. Then, all of a sudden, the wish that you had been preaching gets granted.

“Do you feel proud of yourself? Do you feel the need to rejoice and celebrate? After all this hard work why not celebrate? Yet, you don’t. You’re here throwing a pity party in a bathroom that has seen better days. You want to know why?

“You’re bitter and jealous. You’re resentful that the one person who you thought would stay by your side until the end actually worked hard enough for the chance to be redeemed.

“Besides, have her fall in love with you? Allow her to date you? And what was that last part you said? Allow her to get sucked into the hotel redemption schtick? What do you take her for? I may not have the highest of opinions on her, but I do know this: she went with you because she utterly cares more about you than she does about redemption.

“That’s why you’re conceited, dearest Charlie. You’re doing all of this because you hope to earn something after all of this. Vaggie did those things not only for you, but for herself. She wanted to fall in love, so she did. She wanted to get closer to you, she did. She believed in the redemption process and now—Look! She has it.”

Alastor knelt down on one knee and clasped Charlie’s hands in his own. His claws had retracted back into the supple leather of his gloves, allowing them to gently touch her skin.

“I apologize if I’m being harsh, but it must be said. You of all people should be happy—nay! proud—that Vaggie has earned her spot inside those pearly gates.” His grip gently tightened around her wrist, pulling her gently onto the floor with him. “Go to her and talk. You have an entire year left with her before your uncles come to take her away on Extermination Day.” He tapped a finger against her cheek. “Before that, I recommend you take a long bath. You’re smelling a bit ripe.”

Charlie… Charlie didn’t know what to say. After so long, she knew that there were times when the Radio Demon had his moments, both good and bad, but this speech was unheard of! Without warning, Charlie launched herself into his chest and felt a fresh slew of tears escaping her eyes. She was probably adding to the mess that was already caked onto his clothing, but at that point, she didn’t care that she was brought low and vulnerable in front of her business partner.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his lapels. “I…your methods need some work, but it really got to me.”

“I will look into better methods for the future. In the meantime—“ He surreptitiously tried to move away from her, but the soft arms that surrounded him wound tighter than a cog in a well polished clock. A loud sigh fell from his lips. He should have expected more physical sentimentality than was reasonable from Charlie.

“You know, you could be a motivational speaker for some of our group therapy sessions. Who knows, you might be next for redemption!”

“Ha ha ha! Not a chance, sweetheart.”

#charlastor week 2020 #charlastorweek2020 #charlastorweek #charlastor week #charlie magne #alastor #hazbin hotel #devintrinidad #devintrinidad author #devin trinidad #devin trinidad author #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #charlastor #chalastor

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aures-rose · 4 years

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Disclaimer: Very much and very little have happened since my last update. I broke my ankle last month and that’s kept me from really roleplaying and writing like I might normally in frequency, quality, and duration. Despite this, I have a lot to write since a lot of this happened before my incident. Anyways! To the entry!

Dear Diary,

So much has happened since my last entry! Where do I even start? I had my first practical potions lesson this year! Deputy Headmistress is teaching it, and she had a cauldron of a love potion called Amortentia. It smelled like firewood and the ocean and flowers, wisteria I think. Maybe lavender. Someone, I think it was Eve, said it smells like whatever you find the most attractive. So I guess I like campfires by the sea. Which makes sense actually, we always had that campfire under the pergola where Mother’s wisteria grew. Anyways, Eve and I brewed the Antidote to Common Poisons which seems like a useful thing to be able to brew. I didn’t even know I could brew, but I didn’t mess up!

After class, Eve and I went down to the campsite near Dumbledore’s grave and we hung out for a while. She told me how she and Marigold had talked about doing a group Halloween costume for the bash this year as plants that can be found in the forest. Eve really likes herbology you see and she got a book from her mum about different plants, I think she said they may have been Victorian plants, I can’t remember. She was talking about going as some kind of mushroom and I had the idea of being a rose, with a paper mache rose head on or something.

Later on I ran into Margo again. She was heading back to the common room and since I knew a shortcut through Lady Prudence, I showed it to Margo. I told her it really pays off to talk to the portraits in school and she said she’d have to talk to more of them. She invited me into the first year dorm where she was supposed to meet Venus- another first year. Venus was going to tell Margo a secret. Margo took me to their dorm and introduced me to Venus who seems really nice and likes plants. Her mum plays music too, piano I think she said. I promised to show her where the music room is sometime, a lot of first years seem to not know about it, I guess because we have no music professor this year. Venus and Margo both showed me their beds, Margo likes plants and Venus also likes stars! Then Venus told us she’d overheard a friend talking to a boy and she’d learned of a secret room through one of the portraits. She was supposed to show us the next day but I ended up being really busy. I’ll have to ask Margo to show me sometime. Also, I think I really like the name Venus. I know it’s a planet and a Roman Goddess, but I like it because how romantic it sounds.

Anyways, I had Herbology with Eve next. I really do hate Herbology. I mean, I like looking at flowers and plants but I just don’t get it. But in class we were collecting mushrooms from the edge of the forest. Venus asked me to partner with her but I’d already partnered with Eve so I had to tell her no. Eve and I talked about herbology for a while and mostly she picked all the mushrooms with these really nice scissors she had. After class, we sat in the courtyard and talked. We decided instead of going by the dock, we were going to sneak brooms and fly to a secret place on the castle which will become our secret place. We’ll bring supplies like blankets and stuff and we’ll hide out there for our sleepover.

We also talked about Ghoul Studies because it was going to be our next class. We talked about Professor Esper and how romantically he talks and also how he wears… a flower on his suit which Eve says represents mourning, or it did in Victorian times. I wonder if Professor Esper is mourning a long dead sweetheart from his days as a student. Wouldn’t that be romantic? In class the Head Boy, Elliott sat near us and we both told him we’d bet money on him with Nora for the TriWizard Cup. Professor Esper also had asked Eve to cast a spell and levitate all the homework to his desk but she couldn’t do it. She asked me for help and I was actually able to do it!

Then came DADA. Not the good DADA though. No. DADA with stupid Professor Vikander. Can you believe he took TWENTY POINTS from Gryffindor just because some boy’s spell backfired? That made me so mad! My blood actually started to boil, I swear! Actually, my hands did get really hot and so did my face and the edges of my eyes got real blurry like… I couldn’t help it and I ended up yelling at Professor Vikander. I… said some not nice things about how he didn’t care about his students and I wished I was a Hufflepuff because Professor Priaulx is better and actually cares. I can’t believe he let me get away with everything I said, really. Tom and Eve were trying really hard to calm me down and I think that’s the only reason I really left the class. It’s so embarrassing getting angry like that. I need to remember to take my calming drought always. Anyways, we were making our way down the tower and there was a crowd at the bottom. And in that crowd was the boy who’d lost us all those points. I couldn’t help myself! I tried to petrify him… from there it all went crazy. Everything happened so fast but Eve tackled me and my spell hit Talula I think. Elliott came down and pulled Eve off me and she explained she wasn’t attacking me, she was trying to stop me and then everything got even crazier!! I don’t remember everything that happened because Eve surprised me so bad and I started to feel really embarrassed and ended up crying. Eventually Professor Vikander came down and everything was still crazy but Talula gave me a calming drought bc the one in my backpack got shattered. Then Professor Vikander sent Eve and I to the Hospital Wing. I apologised to her there and she told me I had nothing to be sorry for and…. That Lex… Lex Ashworth had said something very cruel. He’d been talking to Aloy but he called her a fire flinging freak and… I mean… sure, he was mad at Aloy but… if that’s what Lex thinks of her… what about Talula? Or me? My family? I come from a line of fire flinging freaks even if I’ve never managed it myself…

After that, I kind of laid low for a while, avoiding everyone. Especially since… after that, my eye got even worse. I don’t know why but instead of two pupils, now there’s three. Am I doomed to just keep getting more and more? Will my other eye become freaky next? I don’t know what to do about it but I can’t keep ignoring it so I’ve been trying to do research on curses and what kind might have caused this. I plan on speaking to Professor Macauley about it as soon as possible and if he doesn’t have answers I’ll go to Professor Blightly and then O'Keeffe if she doesn’t. I have to figure this out and how to go back to normal or at least how to stop it.

Then it was announced there was going to be a fashion show. I don’t know anything about fashion and I don’t really care but Gwyn, my mentor, was running the meeting so I decided to go to support her. Somehow I ended up being chosen to represent our house in the casual category. I ended up wearing my red jumper dress with a white t-shirt, a red flower crown of flowers I don’t know what they’re called but they remind me of the Christmas flowers, red flags, my red backpack, and of course, my violin case. I also put stars on my face, because I like decorating myself. The fashion show was really scary honestly but Talula put some lipgloss on me and everyone was really supportive. It was scary walking on stage on front of everyone and I was afraid I’d like or fall off stage but I did it! And I never want to do it again! I’d watch it again though!

Talula also ran a club called Spark Club this month. Spark Club is where you can meet new friends or dates. I only wanted friends so I put that when I signed up. Somehow Talula pairs you with three people, I don’t know how, and you spend a few minutes talking and getting to know each other with the talk starter Tal gives you. My first pair was Bailey but I think he was late getting there so Margo and her match, Dana, who is a first year in our house talked to me for a little bit. Margo said I could be a model because of how tall I am but I definitely don’t want that. Eventually Bailey showed up and we talked about getting into trouble a little bit. My next pair was named Gage but he never showed up so I sat around and watched everyone else for a bit. Lastly, I was paired with Eve! Talula said we were too cute not to pair up and I told Eve it was destiny! She was talking to an older student named Romi Clementine. Romi is a fourth year I think and she’s really pretty, like a doll. She was even dressed like a doll in this frilly red dress. She said she liked charms and Homemaking Magic and that the Spark Club was a little too noisy for her which I totally get.

Oh, Eve also gave me a book at Spark Club. It’s called Coraline and she said she wanted us to choose characters from the book for our Halloween costumes instead. I’m going to start reading it tonight, just as soon as I finish writing in you. She said it was one of her favourite books and I think it’s nice to see what your friends like if you want to get close to them. She also said she’d like it if we all started a book club. So I’m going to read some of this and then maybe we can sit around and have a talk about it!

Oh! The Triwizard Tournament is closing in, I don’t remember if I told you but Hogwarts is hosting it this year. Saturday the other schools arrived. It was amazing. The Beauxbatons students are so elegant and graceful! They arrived in a blue flying carriage pulled by winged horses that were all golden! When their Headmistress stepped out she looked like an ice princess with all these feathers on her dress. Then the students came out with all this beautiful water magic and there were golden sparks and it was all amazing. The Durmstrang students were intimidating! It’s crazy to me to think that if Grandmother Banon had remained in Bulgaria, I could have been a Durmstrang student too. I couldn’t imagine that! They’re so serious and like… They arrived in a ship that came out of the lake, bursting through the ice alongside all these patronuses! The students came marching off the ship with these torches held over their heads and then the flames leapt from their torches and made this arc and the Deputy Headmistress came marching off. I don’t think anyone’s seen the Headmaster yet, apparently he wasn’t feeling well.

There was also a HUGE feast where Headmistress O’Keeffe explained all the rules of the tournament, apparently you can only participate if you’re 17. Then she revealed the Goblet of Fire! It’s got these blue flames and it was super cool to watch. There’s also these blue flames around the Goblet which apparently keeps anyone under 17 from trying to put their name in. I wonder who will be chosen from each school… I can’t imagine being chosen for Hogwarts… I hope though… I hope one day I can be in the Triwizard Tournament. Could you imagine? Aures Truegarden, Triwizard Tournament Champion. I’ve heard some students talk about trying to sneak their names into the Goblet but I’m not ready and I know that. I’m still just a kid. But one day!

That’s almost everything, I think. The only thing left is to tell you I’ve found a new project! I’m going to try to learn a musical piece called The Devil’s Trill. It’s by Tartini. I was reading a music book and I found a story about it and really wanted to learn it after that. This composer, Giuseppe Tartini was having a hard time making money as a violinist. He decided he wanted to die- that’s sad isn’t it?- but before he did, he wanted the chance to dream for one last night. That night he dreamed of the devil! Or is it, a devil? Anyways, he told his friend,some French astronomer that he dreamed the devil came and asked him to be his teacher. At the end of their lesson, Tartini gave the devil his violin and asked him to play, to see how good the Devil was. The devil played so amazingly that it took Tartini’s breath away. How I wish I could play that well. Anyways, Tartini woke up with a jolly and jumped out of bed, immediately writing down the sonata and trying to catch what he’d heard in his dream. The Sonata became super successful! Everyone said that you could hear bells and chimes during the performance and that it felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller but Tartini said it was nowhere near as perfect as what he heard in his dream. I want to learn to play The Devil’s Trill and make people feel something. Anyways, I should start this book but… goodnight diary! Thanks for always listening!</p>

#roleplay #harry potter roleplay #second life roleplay #veela #Gryffindor #mischief managed #second life

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washipuppy · 5 years

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Where is my mind (this time)?

Personal stuff? On MY Tumblr? Yep, it's happening. I need to ramble, and where the feck else am I gonna do it but Tumblr?

I was supposed to go in for an Autism assessment today with my therapist. It's been constantly on my mind it all week, to the extent that I think I might actually ne worried about it, and I have no feckin idea why. It's not a test.

Anyway, it was cancelled and re-scheduled for next week. I took the day off work for it too, since it was gonna be a couple of hours, but I went back to work because I'll need to take next Thursday instead. So I guess I'm having another week with this oversized, unresolved question-mark dangling from my neck.

Background will (hopefully) be under the cut so that most of you aren't bothered by all this:

Background 1 - My therapist is kind of flakey.

Like many people, I have a therapist that I picked entirely because I'd been without one for several years (since my last therapist retired) and I needed to do something about the tail-spin death-spiral my brain was in. I don't get to see them too often, because I work 8:30 - 5:00, 5 days a week and they tend to cancel my appointments on me thr day they happen, but I'm too tired and worn down by existence to get another one, so it is what it is.

Background 2 - I'm not trying to be weird, please stop calling me that.

Lotta people seem to think I'm Autistic. Including said therapist, who I noticed was asking me the "Could this person be Autistic?" questions during our last session. Shortly after which I realised I recognised the "Could this person be Autistic" questions without the word ever being used. I've considered the possibility, but although I have a some traits that are associated with ASD (non-verbal episodes, repetative hand / body movements when anxious, low social situational/emotional awareness, eye contact avoidance...), I have a pretty intense imagination and I can be spontanious. If I decide I want to go shopping after work, I'll do so. If someone wants to spend time with me and I don't really have a reason not to go (e.g. a prior commitment or not wanting to spend a lot of money on something I won't actually enjoy), I'm gonna go even if it's last minute. Because they asked me specifically (General invitations offered to "the group" don't elicit this, and I'm way more likely to bail on those) and I want to keep being asked to go to things; If I say no too often, people will just stop inviting me to things. So if I'm asked to go see a band or an expo or whatever and the cost isn't too bad, I'll go. Besides, what good will it actually do me if I get confirmation that I am Autistic? It's a bit late for it to make a difference to my development, the damage has already by and large been done. I didn't see how it would actually help my life now to be diagnosed.

Background 3 - The culmination of a cascade of f**kups.

For a while, I've suspected I might have ADD/ADHD (just gonna use ADHD from now for this). It started on Tumblr, oddly enough - I follow several people here who also have ADHD and post bits and bobs about it, all of which make me go "Yes, that is a thing that is me." But I tried not to think too much about the growing idea that I might have ADHD myself despite almost everything I ever saw or read about girls having ADHD described me perfectly - From the childhood maladaptive daydreaming through to the mental breakdown in university and inconsistent job performance - because I think of myself as something of a hypochondriac* and It's trite to say "Oh, I've got ADD, I'm so easily distracted!" when the world at large is horrible and distracting.

That is, until last year. See, I left a job I didn't like in 2018 and got one I quite liked in 2019. Thing is, even though I like this job, I'm still fucking up with an alarming frequency and I can't seem to stop. I don't know why it happens or how to make it stop, and I don't know how to make myself think or be more careful or even understand how I'm doing something wrong enough to stop. It's so incredibly frustrating and distressing to know you're going to fuck up, and to try to spend your time mitigating the inevitable**. The thing that made me think I should probably actually get myself checked out, however, was my partner. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately, getting confused, been struggling to keep things right in my head - after driving across the city for an event that had in face been re-scheduled next week, my partner sent me a comic strip from the ADHD Alien that basically outlined my exact mental stateand life. It was his own gentle way of saying "I don't exactly understand what's going on with you, but I think this might be what its called". More importantly though, it's something that, if I really do have it and can be diagnosed with it, we can actually do something about it and getting it managed would actually help my life.

And now, the thrilling culmination...

So. I figure "Feck it, 2020 is the year of getting my brain sorted out or something," and I talk to my GP about how to go about getting assessed for ADHD. My response is more or less a shrug with a side of "Speak to a mental health professional about that." So I speak to my therapist. I know ADHD often comes with ASD, so I figure okay, maybe we'll kill two birds with one stone and see about getting them both assessed.

Turns out she was going to suggest doing an assessment for ASD as well. I initially thought ADHD was in that too, but nope - misunderstanding on my part again. So I need to get off my goddamned backside and track down a way to get tested for the thing that can actually be managed and mitigated, while my stupid head spins its wheels over the thing that probably won't do anything but confirm how different/ not different my brain actually is.

Whatever it is, I worry it's getting worse.

*On a related note, my partner's atitude to his health is so different to my own. I always think I need to prove that something is wrong to my GP before anything can even be looked at. For example, I'm tired a lot, to the point I slip into micro-sleeps / blackouts at work. We thought perhaps I wasn't sleeping well due to the hole in my face being a disaster zone, which I talked to my GP about. A blood-test later revealed that my iron intake was within normal levels, but it was low within normal levels (i.e. I'm not anemic, I've just got a low iron count). So I worked on upping it with more red meat and iron suplaments. No improvement, either in my being tired levels or my iron intake levels (And my sinuses are as clear as they ever get, which is still not good). So stronger Iron checks and a test for celiac disease that I still need to get the results for, despite the fact that I'm about 98% sure they won't show anything. Basically, I'm working to prove that whatever's wrong with my sleep, a sleep study will probably be needed to assess.

My partner pointed out that I could just... go do that. On my own. I don't need my doctor's permission to check to see if I have apnea or some kind of sleeping condition. I don't need to prove I have something that warrents a sleep test, I can just go get a sleep test.

**There's also the distractions that aren't helping. I'll always find something - I made so many paper roses until that was finally burned out of my system, I went through a pad of post-it notes in a few months trying to take down distractions and put them asside before re-focusing on the task before a minor hiccup interrupted that technique, I've opened new windows on my browser and immediately closed them because I'm trying NOT to get distracted, but even if I don't put an obvious distraction in front of myself, I'll stare blankly into space and daydream instead of focusing.

#Autism #ASD maybe? Or not!#I don't get to know that yet!#vent #rant

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kvhottie · 5 years

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A love that’s like glowing tinder in a slow-building fire. It isn’t until Yuki and Nico become roommates that they realize that the signs were always there.

Rating: Explicit |Pairing: NicoYuki |Tags: Post-Canon, Living Together, Feelings Realization, Light smut

[Ao3]

________________

“Do you want to live together?”

Nico rushed through the question, not even offering Yuki a greeting when he picked up the phone. It made Yuki pause, mind loading for a brief second. The thought of them living together wasn’t displeasing. Over the last year they’d grown apart because Yuki had been working hard in his yearlong internship at the Legal Research and Training Institute and Nico was determined to actually graduate this time around. But they had shared drinks and dinner every few months in an attempt to keep their friendship as strong as their busy schedules would allow them. Nico was the closest he’s ever had to a true friend. Plus, Yuki was already looking for an apartment since he was done with his internship, and in turn his stay at the Institute’s dormitory. The timing was perfect. “Sure, let’s do it,” he nonchalantly replied, and the deal was sealed.

The first few weeks of living together were rocky—Yuki was particular, detailed-oriented, and pristine. Nico was, well, “clean enough” as he would call it. But with some practice Nico learned to pay a bit more attention to where he put grocery items in the fridge and to properly clean the bathroom sink when he finished shaving. And Yuki practiced not popping a blood vessel over every misaligned mug and the occasional sweater Nico left hanging over the back of the couch. It was all a work in progress. By the sixth month mark they were synchronized and living surprisingly well together. They took turns making dinner (though they scarified their stomachs more than a few times to get to this point of basic culinary skill) and shared each other’s company for early breakfast or very late dinner. With Yuki working as a rookie lawyer in the acclaimed TMI Associates Law Firm and Nico having landed a software development job with Panasonic, they both spent most of their time during the weekday at work. But the little bits of free time they had, like on the weekend and the few blessings of vacation, they spent it together doing a varied mix of activities. Running was one of the activities they did together most often. Though usually initiated by Nico, Yuki easily went along with his suggestion to do a leisurely Saturday and Sunday morning run. Neither had completely lost the fire for running they had gained (or rekindled in Nico’s case) under Haiji’s influence. It had died down to just a small, warm blaze present in their hearts, but it was there nonetheless—sparking a tiny, breathy smile during every run. They also passed their time sitting at their dinner table, chatting about work or anything interesting they’d heard from the news, and twisting those weird metal dolls Nico started making after he quit smoking. Yuki no longer made any profit from selling them online, but he started an Instagram account for them out of respect for the huge collection Nico had accumulated. The account had a loyal fifty-seven followers and was steadily rising. Apart from that, they each had their own pastimes. Nico’s were focused around being indoors with his laptop or TV, and Yuki’s consisted of going to the club or a concert. There was a brief period during the first few months of them living together that Yuki spent every other night giving Nico a sampling of his favorite electronica music. He even dragged Nico along with him to the club once—only for Nico to last a total of forty-five minutes before bailing. After that experience Nico drew the line at listening to Yuki’s music at home whenever he wanted to share it, but absolutely no clubs. And so Yuki continued attending the club alone, as he had always done. But there were nights that he’d return with someone else, mostly women, and a sprinkling of men. Since graduating university he had been introduced to an array of experiences, a majority of them pleasant, and had quickly learned that as long as he found the person attractive, he had no preference as to whom he was sleeping with. There was just one rule: he wanted no attachments and therefore would only sleep with a person once. He had no time or patience to deal with other people’s emotions. He barely had time to put up with his own. “The guy you brought yesterday was a jerk,” Nico commented offhandedly while they ate breakfast. Nico was generally indifferent to Yuki bringing strangers to the apartment. And it was only fair. They were splitting the rent equally and it was in Yuki’s right to do whatever he wanted in his own room. But still, Nico had never even once complained, neither about the frequency nor the mixed gender of his partners. Yet…recently, there was an expression that overcame Nico’s face every time Yuki brought someone home that Yuki couldn’t put his finger on. It was one he had never seen before, and had since burned into his mind. Some nights he’d even purposefully meet eyes with Nico when coming in the door with yet another stranger—just to see if he could catch a glimpse of that expression again. The look on Nico’s face at the moment was awfully similar. “Really?” Yuki replied in between bites of his sausage. “Did he say something rude to you?” Nico sighed and set his empty coffee mug down. “He bragged and babbled a bit too many details about you.” “That piece of shit…” Yuki muttered under his breath, only to shrug a moment after. “Well, I’m not surprised.” “The majority of people you sleep with are jerks.” Nico set his chopsticks down and met Yuki’s eyes. “Shouldn’t you be more wary of who you bring over?” Yuki narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, straightening his back. “I’m just fucking them, Nico. And I only see them once. I could care less about their personalities.” He picked up his mug to finish his coffee and took a few sips before continuing. “Anyway, it’s none of your business who I sleep with.” Nico blinked a few times and nodded, eyes and lips curving downward. “Okay, then.” Without another word he got up from their low table, washed his dishes, and headed back to his room to dress for work. Yuki stared down at his plate, half of his brain cells calling himself an asshole and the other half reassuring him that he hadn’t been that harsh. Nico normally took Yuki’s sass and threw it right back at him, but for some reason that didn’t happen this time. It’s not as if he was psychic and could predict when his sass was going to affect Nico or not. So it wasn’t his fault. But regardless of Yuki’s thoughts on the matter, for a week or so after that morning, Nico started mildly avoiding him. He’d still say good morning and respond when Yuki addressed him, but he all of a sudden was rushing out the door in the mornings without having breakfast, falling sleep before Yuki got home, or getting home after Yuki fell asleep. Yuki was fuming—the mere fact that Nico thought he wasn’t being blatantly obvious made his eye twitch. Since he first met Nico, Yuki had the uncanny ability to always tell when something was off with him, and he could never leave it alone. But he was stubborn, and confronting Nico on this matter would be like losing out in some sort of way. So he just let it continue, irritation simmering under his skin. ________________

The waitress brought Yuki and his coworker, Fumi, their second round of drinks. Yuki reached over for his whiskey highball, lips cracking into a smile as Fumi continued his rambling story. “And then the chief practically ate him alive. He was so livid that a senior lawyer would do such a stupid mistake,“ Fumi exclaimed, sitting back on his chair with a satisfied smile. “You’re working on the Tamaki case with the chief, right? He must be a hard-ass about everything.” “He’s not that bad. I actually enjoy how fastidious he is.” Fumi scoffed, “It’s because you’re just as anal. Did you know that the meticulous way you organize your pens has gained notoriety and people pass by your desk just to see it?” “I just like things to be neat.” Yuki shrugged, swirling the ice in his drink. “My life would be easier if more people around me functioned at this level but—“ Yuki’s stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting to his phone that had just buzzed and lit up with a message. He didn’t even have to unlock the phone to read the entirety of the text. From Nico: Do you think we should stop living together? But he unlocked his phone anyhow, wondering if there was more to the text—an explanation of some sort. There was nothing. So Yuki read the text message over a few more times, getting increasingly more upset and self-deprecating with each pass. Of course, it was only a matter of time until Nico got tired of him. He had been nothing but an understanding friend and roommate, and was just worried for him; yet Yuki chewed up his kindness and spit it back out with not even one apology to spare. He didn’t blame Nico. Even he’d get tired of himself. “Hey, Yuki!” Yuki looked up from his phone to Fumi fervently waving his hand at his face. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I was just reading a text.” “You okay? You got all serious and then zoned out. I’ve been calling you for like a good minute.” “Well, if all of a sudden wanting to get smashed constitutes as fine,” Yuki waved down the waitressed, “then I am excellent.” It took about three more rounds. By the time the waitress hesitantly returned with the 6th round Yuki had demanded, the room was spinning. He had promised Fumi that this one for sure would be the last, but Fumi forced the drink out of his hand and chugged it, just so that it wouldn’t touch Yuki’s babbling lips. “Give me your phone,” he ordered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s no way you’re getting home alone in this state.” “No. I’ll be fine if I rest a bit,” Yuki slurred as he set his head on the table. “Just give me fifteen minutes…” The next time his eyes creaked open, he was being carried on a firm, wide back. It smelled of shampoo, strong coffee, and home. “Nico?” Yuki croaked, face lifting just enough off of Nico’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of his tussled hair. Nico gave a small chuckle that Yuki could feel against his chest. “We’re almost to the apartment, drunkard. You sound terrible.” “Sorry I’m useless.” Yuki murmured, burying his face into Nico’s neck. “You’re the farthest from that. I actually wish you’d be useless more often, maybe that way you’d rely on me a bit more.” “You’ve never mentioned that before.” “…There’s a lot I don’t tell you.” Yuki slid off Nico’s back the instant they were inside their apartment. He tripped climbing up from the entryway but Nico caught him before he planted face first. He insisted he was fine walking on his own and clumsily made his way to their kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Having forgotten where they stored the cups in his drunkenness, he opened each cabinet in search for one. “It’s your fault I’m drunk, you know,” he sputtered, pointing accusingly at the approaching Nico. ”How is it my fault?” Yuki finally found the right cabinet and grabbed a glass cup, stumbling over to the sink. “Your stupid text!” he yelled. “You sent me that stupid text and I was so angry that I got drunk. So it’s you’re fault.” He tried opening the sink faucet but was turning the nob the wrong way. Nico reached for the faucet nob to turn it on for him, “Here, let me—“ “No.” Yuki said sternly, shoving Nico’s hand away. He set his cup aside and gripped the edge of the sink. “I don’t need your help. So you’re free to move out whenever you want. I know that I’m horrible to live with and I’m always being rude to you. You should have told me much earlier that you’d gotten tired of me.” Nico took Yuki’s arm and swung him around, trapping him against the sink. He turned on the faucet and filled the glass cup halfway. Yuki watched him, eyes following his right hand until it was gently pushing the cup into Yuki’s left one. He held on to it, resting that hand on the sink ledge from fear of letting it fall in his clumsiness. “As if I could get tired of you,” he sighed, face a few centimeters from Yuki’s. Yuki slowly lifted his gaze to meet Nico’s. It was in this close distance that he could see how knitted his eyebrows were, and how much exhaustion and pain hid in his eyes. “Then what are you unhappy about? Out with it, you coward,” spat Yuki, voice a weird mix of agitated and desperate. Nico laughed through his nose, lips twisting up into a dumfounded grin. He leaned even closer until his mouth was by Yuki’s ear and their bodies were completely flush. “You’re lucky I’m a coward or I’d trouble you right about now.” The heat held between them made it hard for Yuki to swallow. He stood completely still, hair rising on end and heart pounding in his chest. “See?” Nico stepped back and turned around, waving a goodbye. “I’m heading to bed. You better hydrate yourself before you wake up with a killer hangover.” And he shuffled into his room. Yuki’s hand went a bit slack but he was now sobered up enough that he was able to catch the cup before it fell. Sure, there was water all over the floor, but that was better than broken glass. And it gave him something to focus his still-hazy thoughts on instead of what just happened with Nico. What had just happened? What was that, exactly? Yuki recalled Nico’s hot breath on his ear and the feeling of his stubble grazing his cheek. He shook his head, hand pushing the paper towel across the wet floor with more force. Nico was just a good friend. He’d never thought of him like this before, and he wasn’t planning on starting now—regardless of what the knots in his stomach were telling him. The next few weeks went by in a confused daze. As the Tamaki case ramped up, Yuki was working long hours on little sleep and too many cups of coffee. Yet, even with so much going on at work, his thoughts would still drift to Nico. Maybe it was because they were barely seeing each other lately, but every time they did get a chance to sit down for breakfast or dinner, Yuki couldn’t sit still. He was ultra-aware of every little thing Nico did. From the way he took his time savoring his food before he swallowed to his new habit of rubbing his stubble when thinking—Yuki’s mind archived it all. “Are you guys close to finishing the defense for the case that’s been keeping you so busy?” Nico asked, passing Yuki a just-washed plate to dry. Yuki’s eyes quickly flickered from Nico’s gaze to the plate he was drying. “Uh, yeah. We’ll be wrapping it up this week so my schedule should return back to normal for a while.” “That’s good. We haven’t been seeing much of each other lately…if I didn't know better I would have thought you were avoiding me.” “As if, “ Yuki choked out a scoff and set the plate to the side. Nico passed him a fork and their fingers grazed in the exchange, sending a shiver up Yuki’s arm. He dropped the fork—feeling utterly like a deer stuck in headlights. “Uh.” Nico chuckled and bent down to pick up the fork, placing it back in Yuki’s hand. “No need to be so jumpy. I haven’t even confessed yet,” he said tenderly. “Confessed…yet?” Yuki repeated, eyes increasingly getting wider as the words registered in his brain. “Wait, what?” Nico turned off the faucet, lips curled up into a smirk. “I said I haven’t even confessed yet. Did the faucet make it hard to hear me?” “I heard you loud and clear. I just don’t get what you’d need to confess,” Yuki stammered. Nico dried his hands with the towel hanging a few inches below their sink and turned his body completely toward Yuki. “I know you know what I mean. There’s no point in trying to act stupid when we both know you’re a genius.” “Yeah, I am, but that’s not the point!” Yuki slapped the fork onto the counter. “Since when? Why?” Nico shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “If I think about it…it started really slowly, probably some time during your 4th year at Kansei.” “You’re lying.” “There’s no way I’d lie about something like this,” Nico grumbled. “Part of the reason I asked to live with you was because I was becoming aware of these feelings. Yuki folded his arms across his chest and looked down and to the side, voice growing quiet. “But it’s pointless.” Nico’s eyebrows furrowed and he took a step forward. “You may not think much of my feelings, but to me they aren’t pointless,” he growled. “That's—” Yuki hesitantly looked up, “That’s not what I meant. It’s just I don’t do feelings or relationships. You know that.” “Yeah, you’ve been saying that since we first met but here we are.” Nico sighed, “You’re just scared. You don’t want to have a deep relationship because you’re scared of getting hurt. Yet, you call me the coward?” “I don't want to ruin this,” Yuki argued, eyes now narrow and steady on Nico. “We have a very good friendship, one of the best I’ve ever had. I don’t see why that has to change.” “We can have both. You just need to have some faith, Yuki…” “Why? What’s so good about falling in love, anyway?!” Yuki barked, hands balling up into fists by his side. Nico laughed through his nose, not teasingly or out of real humor, but instead with some traces of defeat. He leaned back against the counter and stared straight forward at their fridge on the other side of the kitchen. “You asked me the same thing about running once. You’re asking questions whose answers you already know.” “That it makes you feel ‘clean’? I kind of understood that with running, but what—“ “That it makes me forget all my burdens.” Nico turned to Yuki with an expression full of sincerity—eyebrows knitted, eyes glossy, and lips slightly downturned. “That you make me forget absolutely everything until my thoughts are only of you, that pretty face, and the sound of your voice leaking through your room walls when someone’s making you feel good.” Yuki’s mouth opened and closed like a fish until he found his voice. “Forget that last part, idiot!” Nico’s lips broke into a wicked grin. “Never.”

________________

Nico was persistent in his flirtation: compliments whispered in the morning, sweet nothings said with a smug smile the middle of breakfast, and a burning stare during dinner. The last time Yuki had seen him this determined to succeed was when they were training for Hakone. No matter how much Yuki complained and defiantly ignored attempt after attempt, Nico refused to back down.

It was embarrassing. And it made it hard for Yuki to breathe. So, to get some clarity, Yuki did exactly what he scoffed at Nico that he wouldn’t do—he ran away. It was only for one night! He’d stay at his mother’s house on Friday and go back home sometime Saturday. It had been a while since he saw his mom and adorable little sister, so it’s not like he was visiting just to get some space from Nico.

After dinner, Yuki sat at the end of their living room couch with his little sitter on his lap. Despite having missed her first few years, she quickly grew attached to him and happily latched on whenever he visited. She was precious and sweet. It made him feel guilty for being such a bad brother up till now, but he vowed to make it up by spoiling her for the rest of his days. “You look like something’s on your mind,” his mother said as she sat down next to him with a cup of tea. Yuki sighed and wrapped his arms around his sister’s torso, hugging her closer as if she were a teddy bear. She giggled and continued to play with the doll in her hands. “I need your advice on something.” His mother fought back a smile and scooted closer to him. “Is it love troubles? I’m all ears.” “If, hypothetically, a person I’ve always thought as a friend wanted to have a romantic relationship with me and is chasing me, how do I make them stop?” His mother hummed in understanding, taking a sip of her tea before answering. “And you’re sure you can’t return their feelings?” “Uh, I mean…let’s say no.” “Then in that case, it’s pretty harsh but if it really bothers you, cut off all connection to that person.” “Wait.” Yuki turned his head to face his mother. “But they’re a friend. I still want to be friends with them.” “You can’t have it both ways, Yukihiko,” she said with a sigh. “It’d be stringing them along. If their affection really bothers you that much, then you have to properly reject them and put some space between you two.” “Oh.” He rested his chin on top of his sister’s head solemnly. His mom lightly laughed. “No need to sound so sad. If what I just said sounds harsh to you and makes you feel lonely, then maybe you don't dislike their attention as much as you’re acting like you do.” She reached over and petted his head. “You’ve always been bad at being honest with yourself and others.” He didn’t reply. After all, she was right. Yuki dragged his feet when it was time to leave his mother’s house Saturday evening. He didn’t want to see Nico…yet he did. But as he was pacing back and forth near the door of his mother’s apartment contemplating what to do next, his mother made the choice for him. She gathered his things, shoved them in his hands, and gently pushed him outside with words of encouragement. Yuki sulkily waved her and his sister goodbye and made his way home. To Nico: I’m on my way back From Nico: Good. I’m almost finished making dinner but I made too much To Nico: Too used to making for two people? From Nico: Yeah. So you have to promise to eat the extra amount I make forever. Yuki re-read that text a few times, but decided not to answer, locking his phone and setting it on his lap. Yet after two minutes of bouncing his leg and failing to distract his mind from thinking about it, he unlocked his phone and replied. To Nico: Lol, are you proposing to me? Your cooking is not good enough to do that yet From Nico: Don't worry. I’ll get better ^^ Yuki groaned, receiving weird stares from the train passengers around him, and rested his head against the subway car wall behind him. What was he doing flirting with Nico? He was supposed to be rejecting and putting space between them like his mother had said. Why was it so hard for him to just do that? When he entered their apartment Nico greeted him with a cheery “welcome back” and the table set with one of Yuki’s favorite dinners: hamburger steak. They ate peacefully, and aside from the random times their eyes met and the tension between them spiked, dinner generally went on without a hitch. After they finished eating and washed the dishes, they settled back down at their low table with a few cold beers and turned on the TV to a game show program they both enjoyed. Yuki cracked open the can and sipped on his beer, sometimes sneakily stealing a glance at Nico. If felt like they were tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. Yuki couldn’t sit still. “Did you go to your mom’s house yesterday because you’re running away from me?” Nico cut to the chase. Yuki choked on a bit of his beer, coughing. “As if. I just wanted to see how my cute little sister was doing.” “Okay.” Nico knocked back what was left of his can. “I mean if you were, I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve been a bit much lately.” “Oh, it’s good you’re self aware,” Yuki snickered, setting down his can on the table. He slowly turned it in his hand. “…I asked my mom for advice on our situation.” Nico laughed through his nose and popped open a new can. “I didn’t know it was worrying you that much. What did she say?” Yuki put the can up to his lips and mumbled, “She said if it really bothered me so much I should properly reject you and put some space between us.” “And will you?” Nico questioned, leaning a bit closer from across the table. Yuki gulped down the rest of his can and shook his head, eyes flickering over to Nico’s unrelenting gaze. “No…I don’t want to.” “Then, let’s have a contest,” Nico replied, mouth rounding up at the corners. He crawled over to Yuki’s side of the table and plopped down right in front of him. “If you can sit there without flinching while I kiss you, then you win. I’ll stop chasing you and this relationship will go back to being whatever you want it to be. But if you do flinch, you have to give me a chance.” “O-Okay, it’s not like a little kiss will make me flinch,” Yuki exclaimed with a puffed chest. He set his empty can down and closed his eyes. “Bring it on!” Nico chuckled briefly and then grew very quiet. Yuki could feel his breath ghosting on his lips and a big warm hand smoothing over his cheek. His heart pounded loudly in his ears in anticipating and he wanted to take a deep breath to let out all the tension building up in his chest, but he sat hesitantly still. Nico’s lips were surprisingly soft for a guy who seemed to never care to use lip balm, and they moved slowly against Yuki’s. It felt…right. Nico’s tongue teased Yuki’s lips and Yuki parted them, meeting Nico’s hot tongue with his own. Nico slid his hand to Yuki’s right ear, softly running his fingers from the top to the bottom and caressing the pieced, earring-less lobe between his fingers. Yuki melted into the touch, a shudder running down his spine and he pushed Nico away, face flushed with realization. “You said kiss, touching is not fair,” he hissed. Nico arched his eyebrow and maintained his close distance to Yuki. “I never said I wasn’t going to touch you…and you complain, but you don't actually dislike it.” “Shut up,” Yuki muttered, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a shame you rarely put on your earring anymore. Your ear looks lonely.” Yuki quickly covered his right ear, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” Nico teased, feigning innocence. “…like you want to eat me.” “If I ask nicely, would you let me?” Nico pulled Yuki’s hand away from his mouth and intertwined their fingers. “After all, I won our bet.” “That hardly counts,” Yuki sneered, pushing his glasses back up with his free hand. He bit his bottom lip as if wanting to stop himself from speaking but not being able to help it. “I’ll give you this chance. If we have good chemistry, then we’ll talk about what comes after.” “Well, I better impress you then,” Nico said cheerfully as he got up and pulled Yuki up along with him. They walked hand in hand to Nico’s room. If it weren’t for Nico’s strong grip on his hand, Yuki would have contemplated running away. But he couldn’t afford spending even a second on that thought because once the room door shut behind them and Nico’s dark, desire-filled eyes absorbed him in their gaze, he was sure he wanted this. Maybe he’d had wanted this for a lot longer than he could admit. Nico took Yuki’s mouth with a rekindled fervor, rough hands cupping his chin and digging fingers into hips as he walked him backward to his bed. They kissed with as much curiosity as there was desperation—fingers tugging at pants and shirts and bated pauses to share hazy gazes. They lowered themselves onto the bed as they flung off their underwear, leaving themselves completely naked in the dim glow of the moonlight trickling in from Nico’s window. Yuki lay on his back, elbows propping him up to fully take in the sight that was the naked Nico towering over him. His tan, muscular body he never took any pride in despite how easily it carried Yuki and how good he looked without clothes. His handsome face, strong jawline, and those eyes, usually so calm and laidback, that were now sharp with wanting and solely focused on Yuki. It all made Yuki tremble with excitement. “Are you just going to kneel there and stare at me for the next hour?” Nico laughed through his nose and slotted himself between Yuki’s legs, bending down to kiss Yuki’s nape and whisper against his jawline. “I just wanted to take in the view. You look really good.” “You look pretty hot yourself,” Yuki replied, hands now measuredly running down Nico’s stomach with a destination in mind. Nico grabbed Yuki’s hand and pinned it above his head, “No you don’t. Knowing you, I bet you’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?” “More or less,” Yuki replied with a smug grin. “Well, not today,” Nico murmured as he sucked hard on the skin right below Yuki’s ear, rough hands smoothing down across Yuki’s chest. He gently pushed him down so he was off his elbows and fully lying on the bed. “I’m going to spoil you so painstakingly slowly you’re going to begging me by the end.” “Oh, as if I’d beg so easily,” Yuki retorted. Though he tried to sound confident, his breath was already a bit labored and he trembled eagerly against Nico’s touch. He wasn’t making a great case for himself. And, unfortunately for Yuki, Nico wasn’t joking when he said slowly, very hard stress on the painstakingly. Though his hands ventured lower, flicking and petting as they traveled, his lips were on a mission to touch every inch of Yuki’s body. They trailed kisses across his shoulder, nipping and sucking his collarbones, and moving down his chest. He gave tender care to Yuki’s nipples, taking each bud into his mouth and rolling them between his fingers repeatedly. He was so agonizingly kind and loving in his touching. It made Yuki ache both in heart and body. Nico trailed kisses and little bites down Yuki’s stomach and to the dip of his inner thigh. He stayed there for a moment, tongue tracing the curve of it, and sucking bright red spots into the tender skin. Nico would kiss closer to where Yuki wanted his attention, only to switch to his other thigh. Yuki’s body quivered from the teasing, legs spreading but at the same time wanting to wrap him closer. “Fucking sadist,” Yuki growled, his voice giving out into a gasp when Nico bit into his inner thigh with particular vigor. “Just a bit. I’m surprised at how much I enjoy seeing you writhing because of me.” Nico came up to give Yuki a chaste kiss on the lips and to reach over into the first drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a small bottle of lube. “Now for even more fun.” Delivering on his promise, Nico played with Yuki until he couldn’t control his trembling. Every inch of his skin had felt Nico’s searing lips and hands, and had been played with mercilessly. Speckled with red hickies from head to toe, head knocked back against the pillow with small groans and whimpers leaking out of his mouth, Yuki rocked against the long fingers that worked into him. They felt so good, filling him up and rubbing the places he loved, but he desperately wanted more. “Nico, fuck,” he moaned, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to preserve some of his pride. He had already lost one time tonight; he didn’t want to lose a second. “All you have to do is say please,” Nico encouraged, his breathing low and heavy. Yuki could tell that he was also on the edge. Yuki opened his eyes, now clouded over with bliss, and met Nico’s gaze as best he could through his fogged up glasses. “Nico, I want to come,” he managed, making it sound like a command through sheer will power. Nico hummed and pulled his fingers out. He grabbed Yuki’s hips and scooted him closer, barely pressing even an inch into him. “That’s not begging.” “Ah,” Yuki gasped, legs wrapping around Nico to bring him in closer. He grabbed onto Nico’s bicep and pulled him down, hands moving to dig fingers into his back. “I swear I’ll murder you in your sleep…Akihiro,” he panted against Nico’s ear. “Yeah,” Nico grunted, hips pushing deep into Yuki in one motion. “That’s definitely worth dying over.” Their pace was hard and quick once Nico started. Yet even while losing themselves completely to the pleasure, Nico still made sure to kiss Yuki’s temple and whisper words he surely knew Yuki would not dare repeat. Somewhere in the daze, Yuki heard him, and like his words had so many times before, they moved something in him. And he hid his burning face further into the crook of Nico’s neck and buried his hand into Nico’s hair until and long after they had climaxed.

The next morning when Yuki’s eyes groggily peeled open, he was still in Nico’s bed. At one point Nico had cleaned them off and taken off his glasses—not that Yuki could remember anything that happened after he’d come down from the sex high. “Good morning,” Nico whispered and carefully placed Yuki’s glasses on him. He was propped up on an elbow, laying on his side and looking down at Yuki with the eyes of a completely satisfied man. “You’re dangerous,” Yuki grumbled as he sat up, voice completely ragged. “You totally mess up my rhythm and do whatever you want with me, but don’t even feel a shred of guilt the next day.” “But we did have chemistry,” Nico pointed out, lips curled up in that irritatingly wicked smile of his. “How was I?” Yuki shot him a glare and shuffled to the edge of the bed, his back to Nico. “You were great.” “Does that mean that you’re willing to try going out with me?” Nico’s voice was devoid of all humor—soft, and sincere. “...” Yuki got up to grab his black briefs from the corner of the room and pulled them on. He turned his body toward Nico, eyes hesitantly coming up to meet his. “I’m not sure…yet. But I’ve been giving it some serious thought.” “I’ll wait, then. Until you’re sure, “ Nico said cheerfully. “You’ll wait? But it could take months.” “It’ll happen.” Nico stated confidently. “If there is one thing Haiji’s persistence with Hakone taught me about you is that no matter how stubborn you are, if I am even more stubborn, you’ll come around.” Yuki dramatically opened his mouth in shock and picked up the pillow closest to him, throwing it at Nico with all his strength. He then marched out of the out of the room yelling, “You owe me a luxurious breakfast. And a massage for my aching back.” Nico slipped out of bed and softly chuckled to himself as he followed behind him.

#kazetsuyo #run with the wind #nicoyuki #fanfic

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awakearcturianparadise · 5 years

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Nice try...and why did I anticipate, and yet hope, that you would actually use it—and avoid stooping as much as you have—because to use that particular admonition when you should have known that I would be loathe to hear it is simply the most saddening aspect of this experience. And this is where I am supposed to use the human common parlance “you must really think I am that stupid” but as your condescension and continually insulting refrain, the disgusting snd humanly dirtiest excuses busy-ness and its malevolent application in the passive form of ‘indifference towards spiritual principles’ has been a mantra for every session well as pre 1st session phone call is nauseatingly so very anemic as a valid basis of support for mistreating the pupil who lies in proper submissive posture and exposes his belly to the dominant female wolf as a sign of respect, trusting. This posture is not meant to be seen mistakenly as weakness and will humble the teacher in awe of the divine strength of the student.

The teacher, whereby, and duly in gratitude of this honor, accepts this teaching from the powerful and genuine earnest passion of the student to actively absorb and transform the stream of knowledge. The student will soon consume and transform this nourishing data into a desire filled vortex of concentrated emotionally chaotic elementary ingredient. This is to signal readiness for sculpting in guided learning and frictionally heats the IT and sears such creations into place through interactive wavelengths donated through the inner being of both partners in trusted alignment. And the continuation with the upward vibrational cycle, as the other mutually self and other compassionate characters in a transmutation dance. And the teacher as vibrationally in compassionately tending to simultaneously other and self and therein between. and embodied now assumes the role of instructor as a equilibrium flow cycles she is driven dutifully caretaking a sacred conduit of energetic variation. She, mindful of contrast, pursues a collaborative discourse with the student through venous and arterial continuous flow and corrective monitoring.

Given the low vibrational state you have fallen to that you have soiled a profoundly eminent and imperative procedural necessity in your selfish desire to please yourself fas you saw this opportunity —adaptive parasitic energetic opportunism created epigenetically, mutatively, or through intuitive or logical physical organic neurological experience.

And in your own autodeceptive trap, the peaceful and transcendant process creates no surprise. And had you been at least somewhat attuned to the vibrational frequency of your inner being, you would not even have considered to align to the false yet lucrative prophet of the momen. And if this unconscious and unconscionable action was also a result of my own creation of substantial energy perception somehow entering in your psyche dysfunctionally teaching you to perform the sepukku of the solemn functionally vibrational spirit bond.

And so I find myself yet again in disappointment at the temerity of attempting to chastise the victim perpetrated against as if he were a woman “asking for it” by the clothes she wore, as diabolical rationale for why I was raped.

The doubt is that this us the very same classic phenomena I described to ylu previous where I say to myself I trust them that they would refrain from engaging in such hurtful behavior much less double back to abuse the already expiring corpse in a most despicable example of what you humans would term ‘cognitive dissonance.’

While I might attribute it to the utter horror, self-loathing, and soul cringing news that you could be a “people pleaser” according to a very human and allopathic and very flawed and dubious assessment tool....your need to scrub yourself raw of the notion of pleasing another—because it could only be the stigma of the organ of your birth and the wound of your flesh of shame—has led you to another extreme of paranoiac hyperbole inapposite of your greatest and most attractive asset of compassion and kindness—to something altogether hideously simian. And while you also have been endowed with physically uncanny beauty and a level of energy undiminished by brain injuries or fatigue-laden imbalances...they are heaped under the hard light of the lime kiln burning the flesh to the bone as I was unprepared and deeply hurt in a way I rarely felt not only by your tone and manner with me and by canceling within a mere two hours or less of the actual appointment constituted...as you already know—wholly unprofessional, even in coach-level politeness, for someone ‘licensed’ as such, yet allows herself not only to humiliate her client in a shameful display of arrogance to please the mother superior—and—act as inconsiderate and smug, ... as if modeling yourself on the behavior of the chestnut wig and transparently poor excuse for a saint, who feels entitled to humiliate and project her own anger and obviously self-flagellating stereotypical fashion onto those who fall outside the pack of wolves and are vulnerable states and who are ill-prepared for the crudely dismissive farce that fails to hide the thinly veiled contempt I saw immediately as disingenuous charm so obviously coupled with the need to atone through buying oneself using ill-gotten gains into the mistakenly literal high altitude exclusive club if ‘heaven’—atonement not only through her own sins of emotionally abusing THIS client and refusing in rather comically repetitive and cruel terms—to accept news that is not terribly welcomed. But in repeatedly ignoring the messenger and mistaking the placid exterior for passive lack of self worth—a common form of ignorance that the unwary and overconfident exhibit—at their own peril— and, by the by, potentially shooting herself in the proverbial foot in the brilliant process.

Your performance followed by languishing around and again returning too soon and sheltering in place—as if I were a perpetrator— in your shitbox heap of metallic gloom—just allowed me to turn the corner yo view how absurdly asinine and pathetic a creature your own creation had become — as it began to take on your features.

For I was the one caught by surprise e having yo deescalate from my silly assumptions to asdign credulity to someone who says and believes they are a divine being. But whether or not I sm of not I am open in telling that I am most likely pretending as if I were...in thd hope. Of a playful way of internalizing some of themore elegant pronouncements of the ascribed way of the nonphysical being entertaining the idea and getting into character and admitting freely my own hypocrisy.....again I had to course correct from my own Sheltering Protection of Disbelief...

...Beyond sinew or bone, it had been a lonely while since I have felt that level of undeniably sharp emotional sadness and psychic dismemberment brought forth in the form of an internal sewing needle of dread from the heart through the gut, that I had previously thought I permanently exorcised to banished catacombs—the resurrection of sorrow brought me on the brink of tears.

So while I own the part where I trust too much I will not allow this to experience to jaundice my view of your successor—that I that to cooked the beginning of injustice will not occur under my watch.

I know you have more capacity for getting bigger and if you’re surrounded by vipers and sickness it takes a great deal of self care to maintain connection with source. Your benefactor can keep you back from your mission success inevitably and I hope you choose wisely in timing the cutting of this umbilicus.

If I am to pay honor to what humans call self-respect, then you know and agree you behaved in a hurtful and unacceptable manner. And I can hardly open to a state of allowance at all with the current paradigm and this of course you also know this is your notice of breach as the goods are not arriving free on board my old and weathered Plant door. The goods cannot very well be non conforming if they never even leave the point of origin. Violation and abuse comes in many mannerisms and forms and its pathology emanates from various sources.

And I say this with every intention of assertive didactic force that the imbalance lies in your misalignment causing warping in your priorities, myopically misplaced by your perceived lack of acceptance of your proclivity for these: obsessive thoughts that pleasing others is something about which to feel shame. Yet the shame exists only in your manifestation of suffering in another who is your student as well as your ultimate messiah in achieving your mission. That is Me and our collaboration.

Release thine own distorted facets of self and ask your limitless inner being what you desire and it answers; Allow its creation to enter your experience and you shall be swept beyond your dreaming and the bringing shall occur momentous and serene.

5'-TAAAATATATATATAT beta version 4.02 PLDS Arct-Mission ID {1789’-?3”} (FaciVibratos$$Coeuro-Necro) transmit codex cyphyr-lo<u>is: hitwkfe et102T----

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a-gay-bloodmage · 5 years

Text

—He Died on Mallie’s Sixteenth Birthday—

Pairing: None

Pairing Type: N/A

Words: 2,494

Warnings: Implied Homophobia, Transphobia, and a Whole Host of Bullshit, Gender Dysphoria and Euphoria, Implied Alcoholism, Pretty Fluffy Ending, I Swear There’s Cute Stuff in Here

Mal died that day.

It was supposed to be a day of celebration and happiness, but Mallory Trevelyan only felt empty. He fidgeted with a wine glass in his hand, pressed against the wall in the corner of the ballroom. The band was playing loudly, something upbeat and jubilant, and guests danced accordingly. But Mallory was still, save his awkward wiggling as his body rejected the fancy suit he wore. A dark navy blue and purple, a sash across his waist, and black leather boots. His hair was in a simple low ponytail, tied with a black ribbon.

He felt like he was at a funeral.

He watched the women twirl in their gowns, smiles on their faces as their partners led them around the dance floor. They looked so beautiful, so graceful, so happy. One young woman, a blonde with hair that ran all the way down her back, spun in circles as her partner grinned, her pink dress seeming to float up, teasingly showing off all the mass of tulle and lace beneath that made it bloom out like a flower.

"Come on, Lord Mal," someone said, making him jump. He turned to see a young girl, perhaps his age, smiling up at him. She wore a light yellow dress embroidered with orange and red roses along the bottom. A beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Her dark brown hair was tied up into a large bun, decorated with a crown of yellow spring flowers. "Why aren’t you dancing?"

"I’m, I’m a little tired," he said, forcing himself to laugh off the question. "And this drab garb is just ugh!"

The young lady laughed, hiding her smile with her hand. "It looks wonderful on you, don’t be silly!" She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, looking out at the dance floor. "Such a handsome man as yourself, you can really pull anything off."

He smiled nervously. "That’s awfully nice of you to say," he said, awkward. He took a sip of his wine in an attempt to wet his dry throat.

"Come, please, Lord Mal," she said, her voice low as she offered her hand. "The night’s quite young. Just one dance?"

"Uh," he faltered, "I think there’s plenty others who’d love to dance with you."

The girl’s brows furrowed, a frown setting in on her red lips. "Enjoy your wine, my Lord," she said, curtsying before walking away, obviously insulted. He sighed as he watched her make her way out to the far patio, feeling guilty. He felt like such a typical man, turning down a girl just because he wasn't feeling very up to dancing. The tall, dark stone walls of the castle hall were starting to feel horribly oppressive, and he made his way to the door, trying to avoid notice. He nearly ran head-on into an elven servant, who timidly asked him if he’d like a refill on his wine. He thanked her and made his way out the hall with a full glass. To think he was merely sixteen and already drinking like an aged veteran, he surely brought shame onto his family. Not that he particularly cared, of course.

The cool night air was a welcome relief. Music was slightly muffled as it came through the heavy oak doors behind him. A more somber melody came on—or at least it sounded somber to him. Low notes and heavy drumming rang out as he leaned over the balcony, glass in hand. He heard idle chatter come from down the way, but he paid it no mind. He took a rather uncouth swig from his wine.

His mind wandered back to the girl in the yellow dress.

Mal. Everyone always called him Mal. He hated the name. Mother had always introduced him as such—Mal, her dearest son. He’d taken enough lessons in Orlesian to know it meant nothing but wrong. He drained the rest of his wine.

I hate that stupid name. He glared at the wine glass in his hand, and, in a fit of childish anger, threw it over the side of the balcony. He heard it shatter after a moment on the rocky mountainside below. Why can’t I throw out this stupid name like that? He gripped at the stone railing, his lip curled at the thoughts running through his head. I hate this name! I hate it! A cold mountain breeze ran across the balcony, making him shiver. The nearly full moon above lit his skin like a ghost against the dark blue and purple of his suit. The music from inside grated on his ears.

He was sixteen. He was supposed to be sneaking off with pretty girls and kissing them in dark corners of the castle, getting drunk with other teenage boys and catcalling the pretty guests and elven servants that walked by. He wasn’t supposed to be out here, alone on a balcony wishing he were that beautiful blonde woman inside, twirling about in her lovely pink dress. His face went as white as a sheet as he registered what he had just thought.

Mother would kill me if she knew what I was thinking! His breathing picked up, and he keeled over the railing like he was seasick. His mind kept going back to that woman. Her pink dress. The handsome man spinning her around, and around, and around. Why am I stuck in this awful suit while she gets to wear that? He gazed out at the mountains, their white tops hardly white anymore as winter faded away. His thoughts were becoming more and more girly as he grew older. Thoughts of dressing as the noblewomen did kept crossing his mind with disturbing frequency. He took a hand from the stone railing and undid his hair, letting it fall loose around his face. Slightly better. He looked back and forth down the darkened patio, making sure he could sneak away unnoticed.

He only bumped into three servants on his way to his room, apologizing profusely each time. As he neared the final turn to his chambers, he noticed that the door to mother’s room was ajar. A stupid thought crossed his mind, and, like a fool, he followed where it led.

Mother’s closet was massive—a whole separate room full of beautiful dresses. Frilly and lacy and flowing and just beautiful. It smelled like old perfume and dust. Like what he imagined the Maker’s side to smell like. Heaven. He ran back into her bedchamber and grabbed a candle from the nightstand, lighting it and walking back into the closet.

Just one, he told himself. Just touch it. Just think about it. Don’t do anything stupid. His eyes landed on one near the back, far past the invisible line that separated mother’s beloved dresses from the forgotten treasures. It was baby pink, with frills around the waist and beautiful white lace along the low neckline. Its skirt was full of white lace and tulle and silk, making it puff up like an Orlesian pastry. Oh, Maker, please, do something stupid!

Mallory sprinted back to his chambers, dress in hand. He locked his door and shut his curtains, leaving only the single candle to see by. Faint, slow music drifted up from the grand hall. He held the pink dress in his hands, almost drooling over its beauty.

Mother will kill me if she finds out. She’d kill her only heir without a second thought if she saw him with this. His breathing picked up. Only if she finds out. He braced himself, hands gripping the fabric tightly. “Only if she finds out...” He repeated to himself. He set it down gingerly on the bed and tore off the awful navy and purple suit. Clad in only his linens, he held up the dress and tried to figure out how to get himself into it. He was nearly six feet tall already, and not exactly slim.

First, the slip. Then, the mass of tulle fabric that went underneath. He sucked in his stomach as he pulled on the corset that was thankfully put away with the dress. It hurt, but he’d always heard women say that to be beautiful was to suffer. He managed to work his way into the dress after what felt like ages, and readjusted the muscle and slight fat on his chest to create a faux bosom. He grabbed his brush without looking in the mirror, making sure his hair wasn’t a knotted mess. He tossed the brush onto his bed and took a deep breath.

“You can do this, Mallory,” he told himself, eyes closed as he made his way to the three angled mirrors in the corner of his bedroom. “Just take a peek, see how foolish you look. Put this stupid fascination behind you.” He slowly opened his eyes and looked at his reflection, preparing for the worst.

A woman stood in the mirrors, looking back at him shyly. She seemed taken aback, anxious to meet him. He was a Trevelyan, after all. She reached her hand out as Mallory did, and when they touched, all he felt was cold glass.

I’m... her... He looked at the reflection with wide eyes. He wondered how he’d look with makeup on, his hair braided, all dolled up like a princess. She’s... she’s...

"Beautiful!" His voice was breathy and airy, like a young woman meeting a beautiful queen. "I’m, I’m so... pretty!" Tears spilled forth from his bright blue eyes, rolling down freckled cheeks. His hand dragged down the mirror as he fell to his knees. "No, no, this isn’t me," he said, voice shaking. "I’m not pretty," he spat at the reflection. Tears flowed faster. The sound of a happy waltz from the hall below hardly registered in his ears. "I’m just a stupid boy playing in his mother’s clothes." His other hand reached out to touch the mirror, the reflection reaching out to him in return. The soft orange glow of the candlelight made his tears shimmer. "I could never be pretty if I’m so ugly inside..." Mother’s words haunted him. She always spoke of his flaws, his inability to be a proper young man an ugliness that would soon taint him like a Blight’s plague. "Mallory isn’t pretty," he sighed, shaking his head.

She’s not Mallory. He shook away the thought. Of course she was. It was just him in a dress. The girl in the mirror wasn’t a girl at all. No. She doesn’t have to be Mallory. The mirror was now warm where his hand pressed against it.

"Not Mallory, huh?" He asked the reflection. The reflection seemed to contemplate the same question in return. "Not Mallory..." His face scrunched up as he thought. "Just... Mallie." He paused as the reflection seemed to speak instead of him. "Mallie." The name was so similar on his tongue, and yet so different.

Mallie was the name of a tempting young woman, who hid a smile behind a fan as she flirted with a ruggedly handsome man. Mallie was the name of a social butterfly, dancing and laughing as she fluttered about a hall that overflowed with wine and music, her pink dress and long blonde hair and bold makeup catching everyone’s eyes in the best way possible.

Mallie wasn’t Mal.

Mal was the name of young man struck by nothing but bad luck and anxiety, forced into suits he didn’t want to wear as a mother’s hand held his arm far too tight. Mal was the name of a man who hated nothing more than himself, despising how all he ever seemed to be was a failure of a nobleman.

Mallory liked Mallie. He liked her so much more than Mal. He looked over at his right hand, and remembered the wine glass that now sat shattered on the mountain rocks. Mal could be that wine glass—broken and useless, discarded. Except Mal was never beautiful, never held anything that brought anyone joy. Mallie was this pink dress, stolen from mother and made his own. The reflection smiled, and the pain in his jaw told him the smile was his own. He never smiled so wide. He stood, and looked in the reflection. Then he gave the dress an experimental twirl. It blossomed out, just like that woman’s. He spun again, imagining that it was a beautiful man that spun him, a grin beneath his beard as he gazed at the princess in his hands. The music from the hall floated up through the walls, and he found himself truly dancing for the first time in years. He nearly tripped over the massive amount of tulle several times, but he didn’t care. He’d practice and practice, and one day, he’d be more ladylike and graceful than any noblewoman ever born.

He collapsed on his bed as the music ebbed away, his chest rising and falling ever so rapidly, sweat rolling down the side of his face. The dress was tight and hot, constricting his breathing and making his back ache. He’d never been happier. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the flickering orange light of the candle make the shadows waltz along the woodwork.

Eventually, he decided it was time to take off the dress, and he did so with a heavy, yet full, heart. He carefully packed it away in the furthest corner of his closet, carefully stored where he could find it, but where nobody would accidentally stumble upon it. He kissed it and closed the lid of the once empty trunk.

As he walked back to bed, he noticed himself in the mirror. His reflection showed a muscular—though slightly chubby—man, with pudge on his stomach and a fairly pronounced rear end. He smiled almost shyly at the reflection, holding back a girlish giggle as he noticed the lines from the corset on his stomach and sides. Holding the candle carefully with one hand, he grabbed a pectoral with the other, moving it to see how big he could make his Mallie’s breasts. He chuckled to himself as he thought about using wool socks to stuff some undergarments with. His eyes wandered downward, and he sighed at the rather large thing between his legs. He rolled his eyes at the thought of it getting any bigger as he got older. A fluffy skirt could easily hide it, so he wasn’t all too worried about it. Perhaps he could learn to tuck it away, too, if Mallie ended up liking trousers in addition to skirts. He shook his head, blond hair swaying as he smiled to himself. He crawled into bed, leaving the mirrors behind, and blew out the candle.

In the dark, he was just Mallory, someone just now realizing what it meant to be himself. Even if being himself meant being herself sometimes. He smiled as a final conscious thought went through his head.

Mal’s gone, isn’t he? He died on Mallie’s sixteenth birthday.

#mallie's birthday #i have had this written for a WHILE #original content #dragon age #fanfiction #Mallory trevelyan #da inquisitor #I love mallie so much??? he's such a good baby boy???#this is a very very character-building-y fic like most of my birthday fics are #all of my birthday fics are fanservice #the fan being me #only me #and maybe the handful of you that enjoy my lovely little morons

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konnl · 5 years

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Scrappers Part IV

The Harvesters are closing in. The beast is about to break free. Angie and Ruggie can’t outrun them. Their only hope is to venture into The Lost, the remains of civilization before the war, and before the collapse of the planet.

Scrappers Part IV continues the sci-fi horror universe that is being developed through short stories. Enjoy the story in written word, audio, artwork and soundscape.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Scrappers Part IV

youtube

Clash

This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t trained for this. Neither was Ruggy. He didn’t care though, the hothead wanted to bring the fight to the Harvesters. Those damn gene-freaks were marching towards us. Chances are they knew our location way before we knew theirs. That’s what they did. They were faster, more advanced, and less compassionate.

THWUMP! came pounding from our cruiser as the whole vehicle wobbled. The beast was shredding through the side door. It’d be out in no time. Ruggy’s crazy plan of taking the fight to the Harvesters was truthfully the best we had to work with. We couldn’t outrun them. We couldn’t hide from them. The only advantage we had was that abomination that remained in our cruiser.

ANGIE, THIS WAY, came Ruggy’s message through the interface of my goggles.

I stayed close to my partner, hiding behind a boulder. Our night vision from the goggles let us see clearly in shadowed rocks. It shielded us on both sides as the cruiser door peeled open from razor-sharp claws. The beast sprung out into The Lost and charged towards us on all fours like some enraged great ape.

The Harvesters held their electro-spears, humming with power. Their gunmetal chrome suits shined against the light of their weapons. High-frequency clicking noises came from their being. There were the harvesters I was used to. That Harvester at the crash site – a rarity. They were never vulnerable, only killers.

GET READY TO FIRE AT THE HARVESTERS, Ruggy typed. THAT BEAST IS CLOSING IN FASTER.

I watched the Harvesters as Ruggy watched the beast. We had each other’s backs. Scrappers had to. No one else would help us. We were on our own. Sweat poured down my face, watching the four Harvesters march up the hill. The clicking began to ring in my hear. They were too close. There was nowhere for us to turn either. We were backed into a corner. The only way out was to dash at the opportune moment. This plan better work.

The beast bellowed, leaping into the air, claws extended outward. The Harvesters were a good two dozen paces away from us. They raised their spears in defensive stances, watching the beast. It soared down towards the group.

One Harvester typed something into its wrist, causing the suite to open several holes around its wrist and up the forearm. Pitch black tentacles wiggled out of the holes and towards the beast. They reached the creature before it hit the ground, colliding in midair. The beast hacked at the tentacles, slicing some of them apart. A couple of them snagged its limbs. Another grabbed the neck, immobilizing the beast in the air.

LET’S GO! Ruggy typed, sprinting from the hideout.

New Plan

That was new. No time to ponder. I joined Ruggy, rushing from the spot back up to the cruiser. A quick glance back – the Harvesters were stabbing the beast with their electro-spears. Each penetration sent a charge pulsating through the creature’s body. It groaned in agony and fell limp. The clicking sound increased in speed.

SHIT, I typed out. I THINK THEY’RE ONTO US.

Ruggy didn’t reply. We only ran. Now, I couldn’t look back. I didn’t want to lose track of Ruggy or stare at those things. Thumping picked up behind us as the clicking continued. They couldn’t be far behind. We could only run deeper into The Lost.

We ducked underneath a metal bar to the other side. I followed every jump, turn, and duck he made. Every obstacle he avoided. Our best bet was to use the terrain and try to lose these bastards. We skidded on a decline until we entered a cavern. Or maybe it was a building. It was man-made at one point in time based on the concrete.

We hurried through the hallway. Large rocks had fallen over, causing the ceiling to cave in. The interior of the cavern was completely covered. The small entrance would give the Harvesters a hell of a time getting in.

Ruggy made a sharp turn left. The clicking sound dissipated. The cavern evolved into an old building the deeper we went. Parts of the floor were destroyed, showing deeper levels below. We carefully avoided falling, stepping around into the next room.

WAIT, Ruggy typed, holding out his hand. There was a window in the next room.

WE SHOULD GO BACK, I SAW ANOTHER WAY, I typed out.

GO.

I took the lead, guiding us back to a split in the hallway. Each step we made kicked up dust, disrupting our view. I tried not to breathe in too intensely. The air was stale, particles fell softly to the ground. We probably kicked those up as we jogged in. I did my best not to cough. We couldn’t make any sound for the Harvesters couldn’t be far behind.

Ruggy and I followed an incline. Small holes throughout the building let light in.

WE DON’T WANT TO GO UP, Ruggy typed. WINDOWS.

WHAT THEN? I asked.

WE SHOULD GO DOWN. Ruggy typed.

THAT’S THE BUILDING’S FOUNDATION. WE’D BE TRAPPED.

MAYBE. MAYBE NOT. THERE ARE TUNNELS ALL OVER THE LOST.

A loud crash came from behind us. Then the kicking of rocks. Clicking sounds. The Harvesters.

WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE. I typed.

NEXT DROP WE’RE TAKING.

There was no time to argue. We had to keep moving. Footsteps picked up behind us. Distant, but growing louder. I hopped over metal wires, rocks, and other rubble. We passed a corridor to a well-preserved hallway. Never had I run this fast before. Our steps reverbed. The air was thick, making me lightheaded. I couldn’t stop. There were no breaks. The light-holes were less frequent. We were making progress.

Once the Same

Crashes erupted from behind. The corridor crumbled as a herculean, gunmetal, being charged towards us. The Harvester kept its head low to avoid the ceiling as it stormed forward.

SPLIT, Ruggy typed as he dashed into a side room. I GOT LEFT.

I took the next right turn I could, leading straight to a large pile of rubble blocking the path.

“No, no, no,” I whined. I spun around a couple of times. The ceiling had no gaps to hop up to. The clicking and footsteps amplified. The rubble in front had a small opening below. I could make it. I had to.

I chucked my gun underneath, letting it skid to the other side. My turn. I took a step back and dashed to the gap, falling onto my side and sliding on the dirty tiles. I stopped about halfway through and pushed with my legs for the remainder of the way.

A large gunmetal hand slammed down as I lifted my foot, dodging it. I got to my feet, snagging my rifle as a hand reached through the gap, attempting to grab the gun. The hand slid back. Through the smaller gaps in the rubble, I watched the Harvester stand upright, slightly hunching, in its full seamless suit. Small circuitry in a liquid substance was just below a translucent layer of the suit, pulsating. The head stared at me through one of the higher openings. There were no eyes. No breathing holes. Only the shiny seamless suit with its complex outer membrane.

I twitched my eye, shutting off the night vision of the goggles to get a naked look at what humanity had become. The moment held. The Harvester stared at me in the poorly lit hall. The clicking stopped.

“Why?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why I said it. It was kind of a stupid thing to say. This was a Harvester. A gene freak of another world. They left us to die on this rotting planet. They decided that they were better than us and would let Humanity rot.

Maybe Not

The Harvester’s head tilted, breathing calmly. It punched the rubble, causing dust to fall. The sound startled me, but I remained still. If I ever made it out of this, it would be one hell of a story to tell back at base. Now, I was even closer to a Harvester than at the crash site – all on the same scrapping mission. The key was I had to get out of here to brag about it.

A humming came from the suit. Small holes appeared on the being’s face.

“No,” I mumbled, taking a step back.

Black tentacles wiggled their way out of the holes, heading for me. Great. I roared, raising my rifle and fired at the approaching appendages, stepping backward. The gun clacked. Shells hit the ground. Bullets pinged off the Harvester’s face. It didn’t flinch. The tentacles approached. I directed my aim. Some bullets shredded through the black things, causing them to fall to the ground.

They didn’t stop. Their torn halves wiggled forward. This was pointless. It was time to run. I lowered my rifle and spun around, sprinting down the hall. The Harvester slammed its fist against the rubble several times, causing pieces to fly out. High-pitched clicking erupted like a sputtering engine.

RUGGY, WHERE ARE YOU? I typed.

I took a left turn in a T intersection and hurried downwards. All light vanished. The Harvester’s sounds faded the deeper I went. Chances were the large being couldn’t make its way through the rubble. A streak of luck. I could only pray – to anything listening – that was the end of it. I navigated through my goggle’s interface to turn on night vision.

ANGIE, came Ruggy’s text. WHERE ARE YOU? DON’T SHARE YOUR LOCATION, JUST TELL ME.

I KNOW THAT. I’M NOT A ROOKIE, I typed back. I’M FINE. I THINK. WHAT ABOUT YOU?

I GOT AWAY. I HEARD IT GO AFTER YOU. THEN THE FIRES. WHAT HAPPENED?

IT TRIED TO GET ME, BUT I SNUCK THROUGH SOME DEBRE. THE FATASS COULDN’T FIT.

YOU LUCKY GAL, Ruggy typed.

NO SHIT. WHAT’S THE PLAN? YOU IN A SAFE SPOT?

THERE’S NO WINDOWS HERE. I WENT DEEPER, BELOW GROUND. IT’S COLD, BUT SILENT.

GOOD, I typed. A wave of relief went over me as I came to a small turn off. Maybe it was a closet at some point in time. A good hideout as any.

YOU? Ruggy typed.

IT’S DARK, I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW. I THINK I DITCHED IT THOUGH, I typed, sliding down to the ground.

ALRIGHT. WE’LL WAIT IT OUT. KEEP STATUS UPDATES. ANYTHING WEIRD YOU SHARE, ALRIGHT?

CONFIRMED, I replied.

WE GOT THIS, KID :-), Ruggy typed.

I lowered my weapon with a sigh. We were both safe. Separated, but we’d get out of here. Harvesters have been known to give up on a hunt. They had better things to do with their time than wait around for a couple of humans. There were bigger hunts.

One Last Attempt

A light touch on my calf caused me to jump. I spun to face the wall. Rifle pointed. Nothing. The sensation moved upward, pricking. It caused me to drop my rifle in a spaz reaction. I twisted my leg to look down. There, a black remnant of the tentacle wiggled its way up to me.

I squealed, covering my mouth as I did. Noise wasn’t my friend. Several deep breaths calmed me down while I watched the thing crawl up my leg. There, on the ground, was a sharp rock. That’d do. I leaned down gradually, keeping my eye on the wiggler.

My hand reached for the rock, as I carefully avoided sudden movement. I snagged the sharp stone and lifted it to the wiggler, ready to sideswipe it. One deep breath in, I swung. The rock slapped the black flesh, knocking it off my leg. It fell onto the floor and squirmed.

I landed on my knees as I guided the rock onto the tentacle, crushing it. That wasn’t enough for me. I raised the rock and continued to smash the wiggler until it was a flat disk. A part of it rose from the mess.

“Die!” I said through my teeth, slamming the rock down several more times, ending with a twist. I paused, waiting for it to make another move. It didn’t. I won. Finally, the chaos was over. Now Ruggy and I waited this out. We’d get out of here.

#Horror #Sci-Fi #Spooky #Strange

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lolaruberto96 · 4 years

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Stealing Your Ex Girlfriend Back From Another Guy Super Genius Tips

Your ex boyfriend back then you need to do about it.But it will also drift back, linger on the right place.That's why it's so tempting because it's the right one, they forget to apologize to your nagging and he can see the same frequency as before.Also, pay attention to right now, maybe that is easy for you and have fun.

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How To Get Your Ex Boyfriend Back Via Text

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I want you back, and when you were the problems, who can teach you how to resolve the issues without placing blame.Remember that your ultimate goal here is some time to think things over or think she is immediately more comfortable around her and makes him feel that you will be pleased to find the answers you will be hard especially if she doesn't want to avoid.That is what everyone does when a marriage breaks down why do we always want what they gave up and want to get your ex for any significant amount of time.Give Them The Two Most Important Human Needs-More often than not, it makes sense that you won't get much good content.

How To Get Back At My Husbands Ex Wife

#Stealing Your Ex Girlfriend Back From Another Guy Super Genius Tips #Ex Back After 4 Months

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hesterharold1991 · 4 years

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How To Make Your Ex Want You Back So Bad Stunning Diy Ideas

Whenever a partner throws the monkey wrench into your life and she will accept.I soon realised that this won't work because of these psychological rules:These are feelings that take time and place it near the vase after the break up.Most people wouldn't believe you me that it will reinforce the idea of getting back together.

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How To Get Your Ex Boyfriend Back In Hindi

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How To Win Your Ex Girlfriend Back Via Text

#How To Make Your Ex Want You Back So Bad Stunning Diy Ideas #How To Get Back At Your Ex Wife Legally

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newsnigeria · 6 years

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Check out New Post published on Ọmọ Oòduà

New Post has been published on http://ooduarere.com/news-from-nigeria/world-news/russian-general-staff/

Syria SITREP: How the Russian General Staff is fooling the US and Israel

How the Russian General Staff is fooling the US and Israel

Source: https://cont.ws/@vitimbabi4ev/928860

Translated by Eugenia

The day before yesterday, the world media have published the new of the meeting in Sweden of the Western European UN representatives regarding implementation of the UN general Assembly resolution 377 “Uniting for Peace”. The meeting made clear the strategy of the West to exclude Russia from discussions of all critical political and military issues anywhere in the world.

Judging by the experience of the mid-20th century when our so-called “partners” easily unleashed the bloody Korean was of 1950-1953 getting around the Soviet veto in the UN Security Council, this resolution in likely to succeed in achieving its objectives.

Let us reviews the situation regarding the delivery to Syria of the newest anti-aircraft and anti-missile defense systems as well as the details of the use in case of further attack by the coalition.

The first information, with the reference to informed sources in the Tartus province, about the possibility of the delivery to the Syrian Arabic Republic of an unknown number of S-300 systems of unknown modification appeared across the space of the Western and Russian Internet approximately a week ago. It has been reported that the systems have been delivered to Syria in the dock for armored vehicles of the large amphibious assault ship “Nikolai Filchenkov” of the Russian Black Sea Fleet and unloaded under aerosol screen in order to hide from the watchful eye of the electron complex SYERS-2B/C installed in the rotary turret of the RQ-4B drone “Global Hawk”.

The new was reinforced by the information from the online traffic monitors about the arrival to the airbase Khmeimim of the heavy transport aircraft AN-124 “Ruslan”, which in 2015 delivered to Syria the first C-400 “Triumf”, as well as the statement by the Syrian ambassador in Russia Riad Haddad that it has been a month since the Syrian Army have had S-300 in its arsenal.

Nevertheless, in spite of all this disparate information, our military and diplomatic sources and other agencies close to the Ministry of Defense and the General Staff of Russia are not in a hurry to announce the transfer to Syria of S300 systems as a fait accompli. Why is that?

This could be an attempt by our military to mislead the opponents regarding the time of delivery or the actual availability of C-300 systems to Damascus. This would create an effect of a sudden shock when the crews of “Rivet Joints” and “Raptors” see for the first time on the panels of their electronic support measures systems 55000 or AN/ALR-94 the signals indicating engagement of the low-altitude search and acquisition radar CLAM SHELL 76H6, long-range surveillance radar BIG BIRD 64H4 and tracking and missile guidance radar TOMB STONE 30H6E. This could force the coalition to completely change the tactics of the future missile attacks, which, in its turn, will postpone the next attack and allow for further improvement in the Syrian air defense capabilities. Importantly, the Air Force of the US and Israel will not be able to detect the presence of S-300 systems until they start working.

For example, missile launchers 5P85SD(SE) with radars 30H6E, 76H6 with their 5H63S(54K6E) command post could be located on the eastern slope of the mountain ridge of Lubnan ash-Sharquiyah under the cover of the all-purpose camouflage systems UBM-1/2 and frameless camouflage “Shatyor”, which reduce manifold the radar and infrared signatures as well as visibility for aerial and space surveillance in the radar and visual modes. The mountain ridge also serves as a natural “screen” hiding the presence of S-300 from AN/ZPY-2 Multi-Platform Radar Technology Insertion Program sensors on “Global Hawks”, which survey the territory west of the Lubnan ash-Sharquiyah mountains.

When the command post 54K6E receives from early warning and control aircraft Beriev A-50 (MAINSTAY) and the space surveillance system the information about the launch of the enemy cruise missiles from the sea or air platforms, within 20 min all the elements of the complex can deploy at the predetermined positions, get ready in 5 min, and wait until “Tomahawk” or other attacking elements, including low-altitude airplanes, reach the target detection and missile range of the complex.

It is likely that the Syrian crews for S-300 will be trained to act in the mode “deploy-do the job-withdraw from the position”, with the emphasis on the minimization of the time the systems operate in the zone of activity of the enemy radar surveillance. It would be rather stupid to waste expensive self-guiding anti-aircraft missiles to intercept ordinary anti-radiation missiles AGM-88E AARGM when there could be 200 of those just in one wing of F/A-18E/F “Super Hornet” strike aircraft! A relative safety of the S-300 group in Syria could only be ensured by using the tactics of “fast massive intercepts and change of position”, since the Israel and US Air Force, which have complete numerical superiority, could attack each complex with literally hundreds of high precision weapons (from small diameter precision guided glide bomb “Spice 250” and GRU-53/B to cruise missiles AGM-84H SLAM-ER and “Popeye-II”).

A separate issue is the inflatable models of the S-300 elements, which could be provided to the engineer-camouflage units of the Syrian Arab Army.

These models, which could be installed very quickly, have the optic characteristics and the surface dispersion similar to that of the real launch units, radars and command post of the S-300 system. These models would confuse practically any air surveillance system from Global Hawk to the Boing E-8C-based JSTARS (Joint Surveillance and Target Detection System) equipped with the most advanced scanned array radars AN/ZRY-2 MP-RTIP and AN/APY-3. By using high frequency centimeter X-range and the synthetic aperture mode, these radars are capable of producing very high-resolution images allowing for classification and, in some cases, identification of the land and sea surface objects. However, inflatable models are able to fool even these radars but only until the radar of the real complex becomes active.

Now let us talk about the most “piquant” technical details, which cause a feeling of fear and uncertainty in fighter pilots of the US and Israel Air Force.

The thing is that considering how secret the process of delivery of the S-300 complexes to Syria is, neither Tel-Aviv nor Washington is likely to be able to figure our the modification of these complexes. And there could be no less than 3 of those.

The most likely modification to be delivered is S-300PMU-2 “Favourit” (GARGOYLE). This is the most advanced version with the improved command post 54K6E2 equipped with better control unit 53P6-2 based on new software base. In contrast to the older command post 54K6E, the new unit allows for the integration of the S-300 command post with practically any air defense network, which are still centered on automated control system “Baikal-1ME” and “Polyana-D4M1”. The information and control system of the S-300PMU-2 is the closest to the control 30K6E system of the S-400 “Triumf”, which means that the Syrians crews would be able to receive radar information via Baikals as well as directly via all-altitude radar station RLS 96L6 located in Tartus and Khmeimim.

The best feature of the S-300PMU-2 is the medium range anti-aircraft guided missile 48H6E2 with the range of 200 km. From that point on, everyone inclined to bomb with impunity strategic objects of the Syrian government would have a problem. That is because the tracking and missile guidance radar 30H6E2 located in the equipment container F1M of the S-300PMU-2 has the same working frequency (X range) and energy potential as the 30H6E radar of the S-300PMU-1, which could also be delivered to Damascus. Therefore, even when the S-300 complexes are engaged, the electronic support measures systems like AN/ALR-67(V)3 of “Super Hornets”, SPS-3000 of Israeli F16I “Sufa”, or specialized complexes like 55000 of RC-135W “Rivet Joints” would not be able to distinguish the two modifications. However, the anti-aircraft missiles on these systems are quite different.

For example, a pilot of F/A-18E/F would be taking a risk if he moves within 170 km of S300, since he would have no way of knowing whether the system would use against him anti-aircraft guided missile 48H6E with the 150 km range or 48H6E2 with its 200 km range. The latter would be much harder to avoid, since it has significantly higher maximum height of its trajectory, which means that the slowing effect of the aerodynamic resistance would be felt at a longer distance.

This situation causes serious concern in the Israeli Air Force command, since S-300PMU-2 would provide control of the middle- and high altitudes over the entire air space of Israel all the way to Tel-Aviv.

Deploying the complexes in the mountains regions west of Damascus would widen the range of intercept of the Hel HaAvir aviation and the US Air Force acting from the south and southeast. Anti-aircraft missiles 48H6E and 48H6E2 have unique speed characteristics: in the acceleration range, they accelerate to 6900-7100 km/hour, which leaves very little time for the enemy pilots to execute anti-missile maneuvers. Consequently, Israel’s F16C/D/I stationed at the Ramat David Airbase would be automatically in the range of the Syrian S-300PMU-1/2 immediately after they take off and ascend to several kilometers.

There is also an economy version of S-300 to improve the Syrian air defenses – 75P6 S-300PS introduced to the Russian Air Defense Force in distant 1982. The complex is equipped with an earlier version of the radar 30H6-1, which has the 75-90 km range of detection of a target with the radar signature of 2-3 sq.km. The anti-aircraft missiles have the same range due to low energy properties of the radar, but their speed is essentially the same (hypersonic) as of the later modifications, i.e. 6500 km/h.

The outdated electronics of the command post 5H63C (specifically, the equipment container F2K) does not allow for the intercept of the targets moving faster than 4700 km/h, whereas S-300PMU-1/2 are capable of destroying hypersonic cruise missiles and ballistic targets moving at 10,500 km/h. Hopefully, the American and Israeli Air Force will not be using such weapons in the Syrian war theater, so S-300PS might do. The radar 30H6-1 have 6 channels, the same number as in newer S-300PMU-2, and is capable of tracking up to 100 air targets in the multi-target mode. As a result, the system comprising 6 complexes could simultaneously intercept 36 targets. There is a possibility to coordinate with the different modifications of the automated control systems “Baikal” and Polyana”, which has been confirmed by the official information from the “Almaz-Antey” company.

The only thing that caused some concern before the 14th of April was the minimal detectable radar signature of 0.05 sq.km of the target (as opposed 0.02 sq. km of “Favourit”), since the reflective surface of the missiles used by our opponents in Syria could have been smaller. But the experience proved otherwise.

So, even the good old S-300PS is capable of making thing lively for for “smart and beautiful” missiles of Donald Tramp.

#Israel #russia #Syria #U.S.A

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