#i should never have gone against my own intuition and let you have access to me.

[fieldbones]

Nigga.......fuck you.

[incorrectnessduskwood]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Part two of the story I posted here (I guess I should come up with a title for it, huh?) There a few hundred words less than the other one but I liked the way it ended and I decided to go with it. I still have ideas to keep it going so let me know if you're interested in it. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Jake x MC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: spoilers for ep. 8 (still), a little jealous!Jake, and you can see some of my own theories there but nothing much

Falling asleep was never something that came easily to Jake; the constant fear and anxiety of being found were always in his head and every little noise outside of his room would startle him awake, no matter how long he had been sleeping. Even when things were relatively safe and he knew there wasn’t anyone after him, sleeping was something Jake rarely did. He would sleep as little as humanly possible and usually only when he couldn’t bear to be awake any longer.

So it was a pleasant surprise when he quickly fell asleep by MC’s side. She had asked him to lay with her so she wouldn’t be alone because she was afraid of having more nightmares and Jake could never deny MC anything if there was the possibility of saying yes. They laid side by side, MC resting her head on his arm, her own over his waist, one leg between his, and her face mostly hidden in his chest. Jake had threaded his fingers through her hair, heard her sigh and relax against him, and she was asleep within minutes. She looked like the most gorgeous person he had ever seen and he was more than content in watching her throughout the night, to just keep her safe.

Still, Jake’s eyelids got heavy half an hour in, his hand tiring and resting on MC’s shoulder just before he finally gave in and let himself fall asleep, not wanting to fight to stay awake one more night.

When he woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and food, two things Jake wasn’t used to. His heart beat fastly as he sat up, looking around the room with wide eyes until he spotted MC sitting on the table with a mug in her hands and her tablet in front of her, and he remembered her showing up there the last night. She only raised one questioning brow, taking a sip from her mug as Jake finally breathed out, allowing himself to relax, and laid back on the bed. He heard MC chuckle and he only waved her off, closing his eyes and placing his arm over them. The bed was soft and still warm and Jake wouldn’t say no to getting some more sleep, even if he felt more rested than he had ever felt in years; he also wanted to bask in the feeling of being relaxed for a while longer.

A few minutes had passed when he felt the bed weigh down by his side and Jake felt MC’s hand in his hair, so he moved his face until her hand cupped his cheek. He took his arm off his face to look at her, smiling when he noticed the soft blush that covered her cheeks and placing one of his hands on her knees, running his fingers in random patterns.

Neither of them said anything for a while and Jake was more than content to just watch her, to memorize the soft lines of her face, the way her hair fell over her eyes, making them slightly darker but all the more beautiful. Her presence still didn’t feel real and Jake was afraid of it all being a dream—even if he wasn’t creative enough to come up with all of that—so he would take all the chances of having the reassurance that she was indeed there, he would take all the touches she deemed him worthy of having, he would enjoy all the looks she would spare him; anything that would allow him to have her as close as possible. He’d be happy to just look at her from across the room, to just know she was there with him and that she was real and safe and—

“Jake?” MC’s voice broke through his concentration and he blinked a few times to focus on her face again, finding a smirk on her lips.

“I’m sorry, MC. You were saying?”

“I just asked if you were hungry,” she answered through chuckles. “I made breakfast with some of the stuff you had in the fridge. I’d guess you’re just as hungry as I was when I woke up.”

Jake smiled, nodding before sitting up again. “Starving, actually. Do I smell coffee, too?”

“Of course you do. What do you think I am, a savage?” she pointed at the coffee pot on the table she was sitting at. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take your coffee and I didn’t try and guess it either.”

MC stood up and offered him one of her hands. Jake took it and let himself be pulled up by her, finding it all the better when she didn’t let go of his hand and walked with him to the table. She sat at the chair she was before, grabbing her mug once again. Jake poured himself some coffee on another mug and slowly sipped it as he watched MC read something on her tablet, her brows furrowing as she went along whatever text she had open. She would sometimes write something on the piece of paper she had by her side, then she would stare at it as she tapped her pen on the table, her lips moving as she reread some sentence or tried to make sense of something.

Jake realized he could stare at her all day, just watch as she did nothing out of the ordinary but still looked like the most amazing person in the whole world. That was until his stomach growled and he realized he actually needed to eat something and that he should get back to work. MC smiled at him when he raised from the table and walked to the kitchen. She had managed to put together some eggs with what seemed melted cheese and tomatoes, and Jake would be lying if he said it didn’t smell amazing. He took the whole pan and a fork with him before walking to his computer and turning it on.

There were a bunch of notifications from the group chat, mostly everyone keeping each other up to speed about how they were doing and that they were okay. MC had answered for both of them without actually saying they were together, but it seemed to be good enough for the rest of the group; she never ceased to amaze him with how well she dealt with people and how quickly and strongly she had managed to earn the trust from the group. Not that it should surprise him so much when he was also between the ones that had started to trust her so easily.

He hadn’t gotten any notifications about his persecutors nor any news about the police. Apparently, they were still investigating Hanson’s house and trying to find anything because, unsurprisingly, everything was gone by the time the police had gotten there. Good thing Jessica thought of taking pictures of everything so they could at least have some kind of proof; Jake wouldn’t be surprised if the police tried to turn it around and blame it all on the group. He opened Thomas’s videocall to try and see if anything stood out, if he could better the image of the kidnapper’s physique or face or anything that could tell them who it was behind the mask.

Sadly, there wasn’t much he could; even his extensive knowledge couldn’t magically unblurry the whole video or get rid of the mask. There were a few things he could take from the writings and pictures on the walls—not everything because it moved too fast—and he could say for sure that the kidnapper was strong and quick. Thomas had a hard time holding him when he yelled for Jessica and the kidnapper ran almost as fast as the two of them. Even if Michael had kept up with taking care of his physique and trained, he still would have a hard time keeping up with Thomas and Jessica.

Staring at the better screenshot he had managed to take from the kidnapper, he called out, “MC? Could you do me a favour?”

There was no answer and Jake turned his head to look at her. MC seemed deeply concentrated on whatever she was writing on the paper, her hand moving quickly and her head moving from the tablet to the paper and back to the tablet. He quietly stood up and made his way to her side, looking over her shoulder at the paper. Her handwriting was messy and things didn’t seem to follow an order Jake knew about, so he had no idea what she was writing. On the tablet, however, she seemed to be going through some police reports and their discoveries from the cloud. The only thing that stood out to him was the name ‘Phil Hawkins’.

Jake sighed, sitting on the chair next to her and placing a hand on top of the paper she was writing. MC pushed his hand enough so she could finish writing whatever she was writing before raising her head to face him, placing the pen on the paper.

“Everything okay, Jake?”

“I called you and you didn’t answer, thought I could take a look at what you were doing.” She dropped her eyes to the tablet and seemed to realize Jake knew she was searching for something about Phil. “What are you looking for, MC?”

“I’m trying to find out what they arrested Phil for and if we have anything that could prove his innocence.” She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes darting down to her tablet before focusing on him again. “And I actually wanna ask a favour from you. Could you give me access to Phil’s phone?”

“Why?” Jake heaved a heavy sigh out his mouth, pulling his hand closer to him and staring at her. “Why are you so worried about him?”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, straightening her back before looking back to him. “He trusted me enough to call me for help, Jake. Not a lawyer or his sisters, me. We still don’t know for sure what his connection to Michael is or how much they actually knew each other back then, but I believe him.” MC sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know you don’t like him and I truly appreciate the fact that you want to protect me, but there’s a reason why you trusted me to help find Hannah.” She turned fully to him, placing a hand over his, her eyes soft and caring. “But you also have to trust my intuition. We both know it’s been right when you weren’t and I truly believe Phil is innocent concerning Hannah and Amy.”

“But you don’t know the whole truth either, MC. How can you be so sure you can trust him and that you won’t be helping a murderer get out of jail?”

MC smiled sadly, her eyes dropping to their hands. “You know, a while ago, when we first started researching about the man without a face, Richy asked me to be careful and not to turn it into a bigger thing than it was and I told him that I’m looking for facts and not monsters, and I am. I won’t get Phil out of jail by my intuition only. I need proof for the police to actually let him go and for me to be right. But I also need to look for the proof, I need to go through everything I can to make sure I’m right and for my conscience to be clean about freeing him. And if we’re going for not knowing the whole truth about something or someone,” she raised her eyes to him and Jake had never seen her look so serious before, “I also don’t know the whole truth about you but that doesn’t stop me from trusting you, does it?”

Jake didn’t have an answer to that and he couldn’t take looking at her eyes and seeing the hurt there. He knew she was right; he was, indeed, hiding things from her and, even if it was to protect her, it didn’t make it any less of a lie or an omission. How could he judge someone about hiding something when he was doing exactly the same, especially to her?

“Hey,” she placed a hand under his chin and raised his head so she could look at him. “I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I’m sure you have your reasons to be hiding things from me, even if it’s just because of your hero complex, though it doesn’t make it any easier. But I also know everyone in the group is lying about something to me, too, just like you and Phil are. No one is one hundred percent honest all the time and I can’t force anyone to be. It just doesn’t stop me from wanting to help any of them or you. None of them have given me a bad enough reason not to try to help or to trust them. Even Lilly did her best to show she’s trustworthy. I don’t see any reason why it should be any different for Phil, especially if your only excuse is not liking him. As much of a flirt as he can be, it’s not enough for us to just let him rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, don’t you think?”

He sighed, nodding against her hand before turning his head to rest it on her palm, her thumb caressing his cheek. “Would you believe me if I said I’m actually feeling slightly guilty of going against proving Phil’s innocence, now?”

She chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Of course I believe you.” MC’s fingers trailed over his arm, leaving goosebumps in their trail, her eyes soft as she stared at him. “Will you give me access to Phil’s phone, then?”

“That’s not fair. You know I couldn’t deny you that, MC.”

“I know you can’t but it doesn’t mean I can’t ask nicely. Me proving Phil’s innocent isn’t about choosing between him and you, Jake. Believe me, Phil may be nice and flirty, but he’s not my type. I’d rather keep insisting on this stubborn hacker I know.”

Jake chuckled, placing his hand over MC’s and turning his head so he could kiss her palm. “If he’s as stubborn as you are, I’m sure you’ll have a hard time getting through him.”

“You have no idea.” MC smiled, tilting her head. “Will you do it?”

“Of course I will, on one condition.” She sighed and muttered something Jake couldn’t make out, though he was sure it was something sarcastic. “Promise you won’t put yourself in danger over this. Or in any more danger than you already are. Freeing Phil will never be more important than keeping you safe to me.”

“I promise. I mean, if we’re both careless, who the hell is going to make sure we’re not caught?” Jake laughed and shook his head at her. MC leaned closer to him, their foreheads touching, her other hand sliding up his arm until she placed it on his shoulder. “Jake?” He hummed, not being able to look anywhere but her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you first.”

But MC was faster in closing the distance between them and Jake got caught in how soft her lips felt under his and in how her hands moved to wrap around his neck and play with his hair. He moved one of his to MC’s waist and the other to her cheek, wanting to pull her as close as he physically could, wanting to share the same space with her, to keep her from moving away from him.

Sadly, his lungs didn’t seem to get the memo and they soon burned and forced him to part from her. When they broke apart, Jake panted a little, letting his forehead rest against hers and keeping his eyes closed. It took a few seconds before MC talked again, “You know, making out with me won’t rid you of hacking into Phil’s phone for me.”

Jake chuckled, opening his eyes to stare at MC, and he thought he had never felt as happy as he did at that moment.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Revised Manga chapters 99 - 100 Review: Not today, Satan

Hoo hoo hoo.  When Murata said he had a bit of work to do for the volume, we had no idea just how extensive it was!   There isn’t a single chapter appearing in volume 22 that hasn’t been edited or reworked.  And the mighty struggle between Child Emperor and Phoenixman has changed unrecognisably!  Shall we go?

A bit of a difference, yes

Story: forget what you thought you knew

The first change comes nearly right away.  Rather than leaving Waganma behind, Child Emperor keeps him in Brave Giant’s backpack, freeing both hands to fight.   The fight between Phoenixman and Brave Giant is interesting, but it’s much lighter going than before  for a very specific reason: the monster sees a connection between himself and Child Emperor and is hoping to keep the costume the hero is wearing intact so he can recruit a fellow costumed monster.

And now it gets freaky.  Phoenixman can summon another costume-wearer to a timeless spiritual space in which they can talk.  Don’t ask me how!   Phoenixman latches onto Child Emperor’s desire to find someplace where he’s trusted and his efforts are appreciated right away,  coming terrifyingly close to converting him into a monster -- until he harshes the vibe with a terrible name for the monster he’d like Child Emperor to become.  It made my skin crawl, how close he came.

what a terrifying monster!  Had he stopped speaking with the above words, he’d have created a monster indeed!

They resume fighting, and eventually Child Emperor smashes him through the floor as in the previous versions, which doesn’t have the effect of killing him so he can reincarnate.  Instead, it ‘just’ launches them both through several floors, through the lake of death, and down lower still. The water sweeps Saitama along as well, and all of them fetch up in a charnel house, where all the dead Subterraneans have ended up.

Phoenixman makes a second attempt to persuade Child Emperor. This time he gets closer, sowing seeds of doubt about the goodness of the Hero Association higher-ups into Child Emperor’s head quite directly -- there’s no need for them to talk.  Whatever it is he reveals to the boy, it is quite grisly.  Thankfully, the spell is broken by Saitama who just bashes into their spiritual realm to declare his disapproval of what the monster is doing, which breaks the spell.

no traumatising children on my watch!  Trouble is, Child Emperor isn’t going to forget whatever it is that he’s been told -- this is going to be trouble later.

Just as they snap back to the real world, another wonderful intervention occurs.  Zombieman calls, ostensibly to tell Child Emperor about his speculation about the possibility of the Monster Association using the Metal Knight to build robots of their own proving right,  but really to thank and encourage him.  Giving him the very thing he’d been so desperate to hear from the start.

Since he’d been unable to persuade Child Emperor to turn into a monster spontaneously, Phoenixman tried the other way: by dropping a monster cell into the machine so that all the boy had to do would be to take a bite. It’s a good thing that monster cells cannot work unless they’re consumed of one’s own free will.   Despite the pressure being applied to him by the monster cell trying to crawl into his mouth,  the zombies trying to tear Brave Giant apart, and Brave Giant’s own time limit,  Child Emperor holds firm and finds at heart what’s really important: that heroism is an inner quality, not an external one.

And then the true nature of Phoenixman comes out:

don’t be fooled: you can only trust a monster to be a monster

In keeping with his inner self-reliance, Child Emperor destroys Brave Giant himself, immolating the zombies along with it.  Phoenixman tries to take advantage of the situation to kill Child Emperor, being fouled by Saitama long enough for the kid to slip a ticklebug into his costume.

I totally wasn’t expecting this to happen as a result!

the most pathetic monster ever -- please nobody kill him in case he can resurrect stronger

I was irrationally pleased to see Underdogman 24 come find his master, still functional enough to get them out of there (with a subtle push from Saitama).  On we go!

Okay, Saitama will be back soon to find where the rude monster that tried to grab them en route came from.  He still needs to find those noisy neighbours! 

Meta: Not today, Satan

I get two big things out of this story.

First, at the beginning of the year, I mused that OPM wasn’t at heart a battle manga.  Rather, it was a manga that had battles (link).  Core is the relationship between the small jihad (the struggle against external enemies) and the big jihad (the struggle with oneself to be a better person and lead a good life). I’d used Saitama as the examplar of this struggle.

I was a bit (a lot) confused by the changes at first, but I think that fundamentally,  the changes are so as to come back to that important inner struggle that so much of OPM is about.

I thought that Child Emperor's struggle is appropriate to a ten-year old. He's old enough not to have blind faith in adults, but young enough to really need good, reliable ones around and to know that his efforts are truly appreciated.  It’s been an issue for several chapters now: right from the first time we saw Child Emperor, being told he was still a child was a great way to piss him off.

Phoenixman sensing that, worked so beautifully and sweetly on his insecurities that he seemed almost a friend.  Surely no one could resist...

Thankfully, Child Emperor does have good adults in his life, ones who show up when most needed.  Saitama shows up in the spiritual world when Child Emperor feels most cornered by Phoenixman’s spiel and lets him know that he sees what’s happening and it’s not okay for Phoenixman to be pressuring a child so -- giving him strength to resist without taking the struggle away from him.  Zombieman called to thank him, and let him know that his efforts were seen and appreciated.  Reminding him too, that there were adults he looked up to.  It’s so awesome to see that even though he’s blindingly smart, Child Emperor still has some things he aspires to be.

ah, how much your divinely-timed words meant, Zombieman!

Previously, Phoenixman had been mocking Child Emperor for being a kid, for being misled by the adults,  and had been fascinated by the possibility that he too could get stuck in his costume, but those were secondary themes against a backdrop of the terror of an ever-growing monster that just would not die. Fortunately, this rewrite, Child Emperor could only push Phoenixman to the point of death that first time, so he never got access to those bigger, scarier forms and thus the fight to keep one’s soul human could take primacy.

Too, I think that Saitama’s presence, lending the boy hero a subtle hand when he most needs it, was very important in grounding the story.   Rather than being an all-but-perfect person who already had all the answers and has all the toys needed to enact them, Child Emperor may still need a hand, without it being a discredit in any way to his intelligence, determination, courage, or inventiveness. The threat posed to him by Phoenixman is just that potent.

whoops, can’t let you do that -- you won’t be eviscerating children on my watch

Second, the story has gone almost Buddhist about the sin of attachment.  So many monsters are about the thing they're obsessed with.  Even if it's a good thing (like justice -- eh, Amai Mask?), that attachment is what warps them.  Phoenixman refusing to take off his Birdbrain costume because he was so invested in the character he couldn't accept it was over, literally refusing to take it off even if it killed him.

It's putting into context the thing I intuited about monsters (link) -- that they get rid of conflict and regret.  It feels good to be a monster. Being human means feeling the pain, the regret, the conflict, accepting loss, and moving on.  Monsters don’t have to do that.  They get to get all that they want, at the expense of their humanity.

unhealthy attachment -- literally

Other Business

1. The Monster Association really does have scientists.  Whether with Machine God G5′s help or not, they’ve wasted no time in finding out how to make Metal Knight-based robots.  Thankfully, they’ve also copied the machine’s weak spots and don’t seem to have the super-resistant materials the original would be made of.  Still... that’s worrying.  Are the minds and hands that worked on this really dead?  What else have they learned?

2. It was so wholesome to see Saitama provide support and encouragement to Child Emperor, stepping in whenever the boy was about to be overcome but otherwise letting him use his wits and courage to deal with the situation.  How I wish he’d do so for his disciple!  It’d mean so much!  Even if it’s just to give an encouraging smile.

3. It took me a couple of rereads to see it, but the ninja duo have been strapped to the side of Underdogman 24.  Saitama means to collect this bounty! More bbq meat for him.

4. Gosh, it’s going to be positively crowded at the surface!  We’ll have two evil ex-zombie monster ninjas, the support heroes, Waganma, Child Emperor, Saitama, the mercenaries and the disciples all having a fresh air party.   Doubtless various people will be departing for various locations soon enough, but this should be a fun mix.  

5. Saitama is so absurdly over-powerful that even when he does his thing right in front of people, they can’t understand what happened.  No wonder he gets no credit.

6. I really, really, really appreciate getting to see more of Waganma’s thoughts.  Yes, they’re selfish, but his desire to keep quiet in order to not be plunged back into the hell he’s grateful to be leaving are very understandable!  Previously, he’d seemed sociopathic.

7.  So Child Emperor thinks that most of his fellow Class S heroes are either evil, evil-looking, evil-acting, or just plain weird?  Not nice at all.

he still has some way to go in learning how to not judge by appearance

8.  But Zombieman is just wholesome.  Especially his promise to treat Child Emperor to milkshake afterwards.  Let it happen!

[wildroseofarran]

Looking for Kelly || Leslie, Cameron, Pete, Henry, & Kelly || February, 2020

Cameron: Cam stared at his phone for a moment, debating if he should send the text he'd typed out. He'd sent Kelly a few texts since their last meeting, some pretty nature pictures and a selfie where he grinned from ear to ear while some geese clearly chased him in the background, but there was no response. He'd thought their last encounter had gone well, but Kelly was such a hard man to read that there was a chance he didn't enjoy himself as much as Cam did that day. He wasn't sure if this was a hint he should be taking, but he decided to send the text anyway.

{Text to Witchy Bitch} Hey Leslie, any chance you've heard from Kelly at all? I haven't heard from him in a while and just wanted to make sure he was okay.

Leslie: Leslie felt his phone go off, but chose to ignore for the next ten minutes. Customers were in a positive flux, and Myrtle's niece was stumbling. Ten minutes became fifteen, became thirty. When he finally had a moment to himself, his first response was an apologetic explanation. Then finally, to actually read the message.

{Text to Incredible Hulk} I haven't, but I've been meaning to look in

{Text} Wanna come with me to the pub tonight?

Cameron: Cam had to resist the urge to pace as he waited for a reply, and after about 20 minutes he tossed his phone to the side and decided to take Zeus on a run to burn some energy. 40 minutes later he returned, panting and a little less high strung as he picked up his phone. He was relieved to see Leslie's text and quickly responded.

{Text} Yeah sure, I'll feel less weird going with you than I would going by myself  we haven't spoken since we last hung out so I didn't want to bother him if he wanted to be left alone.

Leslie: Leslie didn't want to tell Cameron about his feeling. It could have been due to a number of things, but his stomach only churned with thoughts of Kelly. He trusted his intuition above all else.

{Text} I'll be off work in an hour. Meet you there?

Cameron: {Text} Okay! I'll meet you there

Cam waited about an hour before he hoped on his bike and drove to the pub. Once there, he removed his helmet and leaned against his bike as he waited for Leslie to arrive.

Leslie: Leslie was waiting outside. The weather did not permit his usual jacket, which he had brought to work. Now tied around his waist in a bulky mess.

The witch looked up from his phone with a diluted smile.

Cameron: Cam pushed away from his bike when he saw Leslie arrive, and approached him with a smile.

"Hey stranger, you alright?"

Leslie: "I'm alright." Which was not a lie. He was alright, but still...

"Have you ate?"

Cameron: Cam tilted his head, taking note that Leslie's response lacked the usual enthusiasm, but he decided not to question it at the moment.

"Nah, wanna grab food after we're done checking up on him?"

Leslie: Leslie remained oblivious of Cameron's notice.

"Have you tried the food here? Almost never fried food." Which was something around here.

Cameron: "I haven't, I'd be down to try it! I just had a couple drinks the last time I was here."

Leslie: "There's some people I need to introduce you to." The owner, for one. Quite a fetching man to anyone with eyes. A voice to make the blind swoon. Not his sailor, but perhaps someone Cameron would spare a wink.

Leslie headed for the bar, pausing only for a moment to cast a quick glance. No Kelly in sight.

Pete: Kelly Rose was indeed noticeably absent from the pub tonight. In his place was Pete himself, serving drinks alongside June while a heavily pregnant Stella sat drying off glasses.

"Oh hey," Pete called when he spotted Leslie. "Fancy seeing you here. Whatcha having?"

Cameron: "Alright," Leslie had a habit of introducing him to the most interesting people, so suddenly he was a little more excited than he should be.

Once inside, his initial glance around did not spot Kelly, and he tried not to look as disappointed as he felt.

Leslie: "Um." Quick introductions. He waved a light hand over the eager-looking Cameron.

"We'd like Kelly. The other half of this ‘we’ is Cameron. Cameron, this is Peter." One of those names which highlighted his unusual accent.

Pete: Pete smiled warmly at Cameron, though some of the brightness had gone. "Nice to meet you, Cameron. Welcome to my pub. As for Kelly, things seem to be about the same, I haven't heard anything different from Bridget. Can't tell if the whole no news is good news thing applies to a situation like this."

Leslie: Leslie blinked. "What - What do you mean? Bridget? Kelly's in hospital?"

Cameron: "Leslie, you gotta start telling me when the friends you're introducing me to are so attractive," Cam offered Pete a playful wink, thought his smile was more warm than flirtatious as he nodded in greeting. The smile quickly faltered and he looked between the two, suddenly worried. Kelly was in the hospital? He yearned to ask questions, a lot of them all at once, but knew the answers would come on their own.

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "You didn't--? Oh. Ah..." He looked around for a moment before feeling his sister's hand on his shoulder.

"Go on up," she said, casting an apologetic smile at Leslie and Cameron. "June and I got it."

"Are you--?"

"Yeah, go. I'm fine."

"Okay. Why don't ya'll come on up?" Pete said to them, nodding toward the open side of the bar. "We'll talk in my office."

Leslie: Leslie looked between them. Offered a subtle greeting smile to Stella.

"Hey, Stell. Thanks."

Pete: It was returned. "Hi, Leslie. You and your friend go ahead and follow Pete. There's no privacy down here."

The office was on the second floor of the pub, accessible only through the door behind the bar. It was warm and comfortable and distinctly masculine, decorated with dark wood and rich earth tones.

Save, of course, for the light grey cat tree in front of one of the windows, which currently held two sleeping cats.

"Have a seat wherever," Pete would say once he closed the door.

Cameron: "Thanks," Cam nodded to Stella as his smile sombered, and he followed Pete to his office. When he saw the cat tree he drifted towards it and its occupants, and he made a soft clicking sound with his tongue to get their attention. Whichever cat roused he let sniff his hand before giving it a gentle scratch, if they seemed amenable to it. Then he turned to look at Pete, happy to stand for now. If he sat the anxiety would set in, because he could sense something was off.

Leslie: Leslie followed behind Peter and took the offer of a chair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, giving his full attention. A lesson in various coping mechanisms before Peter's very eyes.

"What happened?"

Pete: It was the orange and white cat who roused from his nap to greet the visitor. He sniffed the hand, rubbing his squashy face against it once he deemed it safe and worthy.

Pete smiled briefly. "He likes you," he said to Cameron as he sat on the edge of his desk.

He had no idea how to approach this. How much should he say? How much could he say? Kelly was such a private person, the last thing Pete wanted to do was overstep or betray his trust.

Then again, these were people who cared about him enough to come look for him and check on him; Pete couldn't leave them with nothing.

"I got a text from a friend one night after closing time telling me that they'd heard something weird coming from this direction. Sure enough, when I came to check on the place, I found Kelly collapsed in the alley. He was in a very bad way."

Leslie: "He was assaulted?" Someone as strong as he imagined Kelly to be, beaten to the point of collapse put a cold brick in his stomach. Was his wound so great, he wondered, and felt a tinge of guilt.

And then he wondered something else.

"What night was this?" Because, without any doubt in Leslie's mind, there was only one type of creature capable of rudely handling a Fera.

Cameron: "He's got good taste," Cam smiled as his fingers moved to scratch at his new friend's chin. His fingers stilled for a moment as Leslie said what they were both wondering out loud, and then they resumed their pets as he listened quietly from where he stood.

Pete: "It's looking that way, yeah. Sheriff's looking into it." Which made him feel twenty kinds of terrible. He hated having to lie but what other choice was there? He couldn't very well tell Peabody or Parker that Kelly was a werewolf.

"It was this past weekend. Saturday night." Not quite the truth, not quite a lie.

Leslie: Peter didn't have to lie. Leslie's eyes were planted on the ceiling, putting forth a calendar in his distressed hasty thoughts.

"...I see."

Cameron: Cam felt something in his chest tighten.

"Is he hospitalized?" Cam finally asked, unaware of what either of the other men might be thinking.

He didn't know Kelly was a werewolf, so to him, his friend had simply been attacked. He always had a feeling that Kelly was more than he said, and regardless he was huge, so it made Cam wonder what had happened to overpower such a man.

Pete: Pete nodded. "I took him and they admitted him right away, rushed him into surgery. He was in the ICU for a couple days. As far as I know he isn't anymore."

Leslie: Leslie forced himself back to the room and those within it. While he was quite fond of Kelly, he well aware of Cameron's budding relationship, whatever it was shaping into. Cameron was in this room, not Kelly.

"I'll see to visiting hours." Henry Brozek would be his first call walking out of Peter's office.

Cameron: "I want to go with you," Cam said quickly, and he paused in his pets of the friendly cat. He turned to look at the other two, his expression almost forcibly blank.

Pete: He offered Cam a reassuring smile. From what he'd been told Kelly wasn't quite out of the woods yet, but having some visitors that weren't him would do him good. Even if he wasn't awake.

"Ya'll go on."

Leslie: "At this hour?" Leslie hadn't stepped foot in a hospital in years. Ignorant to what was and wasn't allowed. He'd assumed visiting hours would have been midday.

Still, he got to his feet. "Thanks for this. I'll see you real soon."

Cameron: Cam could easily sneak them into the hospital, but perhaps he'd save that for a time when he was alone.

"Thanks," Cam nodded to Pete. He gave a slight smile in return and then held the door open for Leslie to step through.

Pete: “Bridget isn’t working today. Whoever’s on duty will let you see him for a second if you say I sent you.”

Pete nodded. “No problem. Sorry I couldn’t give you better news.”

Leslie: "I've got someone in mind. Thanks again, Peter."

Leslie took the stairs at a gallop pace, screen between him and a clear view as he searched for Henry's number. Had he kept it? He never threw away a number, not even those he should.

The phone was pressed to his ear, looking over his shoulder for Cameron as he exited the front door.

Cameron: Cam kept his eyes forward as he followed Leslie, very obviously deep in thought. It was hard not to let the twist of anxiety grow to something more, but he knew seeing Kelly would help him figure out how he felt about... Whatever this situation was. He had so many questions, and knew he'd probably get no answers as quickly as he wanted them. He followed Leslie out the front door and took a slow breath, letting the burn of the chilled air settle in his lungs.

Henry: It would take a good number of rings, but eventually Henry Brozek would answer his phone.

"Leslie?"

Leslie: "Hey, Chippy. Are you at work right now?"

Henry: "Uh, yeah, why?"

Leslie: "My friend and I want to look in on Kelly Rose."

Henry: "Okay, um, visiting hours ended about twenty minutes ago but I'll tell you what. If ya'll can get down here quickly I can let you see him for a little bit. Just ask for me when you get here."

Leslie: "Is he - nevermind. Thanks, Chippy. We'll see you soon."

Cameron: "Could I ride with you?" Cam asked quietly once Leslie hung up the phone. He glanced over at it bike to avoid looking at Leslie. "If you don't mind dropping me off here later to pick my bike back up? I just.... Don't want to drive at this exact second." He clenched his fists to hide the slight shake in his hands. He hated hospitals, but he wasn't about to let that stop him from going to see Kelly.

Leslie: Leslie looked back at Cameron as he pocketed his phone. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." Keys were absently-mindedly tossed between hands.

"He's alright," he said, climbing into the driver's seat. "He's going to be alright." It would appear he was speaking more to himself than to his passenger.

Cameron: Cam followed Leslie quietly, and when they reached the car he took his seat on the passenger side. Cam's hands curled tightly back into fists and he nodded as he stared out the front window.

"Yeah..." But there was no confidence in his voice.

Leslie: As much as Leslie wanted to, he would not reassure beyond the hopeful sentence. Whether Kelly was in recovery or not mattered less than what could potentially be done in his aid.

At least, that was the repetition of Leslie's thoughts as he threw the Jeep into park. As expected of a tourist fishing town, the hospital was all but vacant.

"As it should be," he muttered under his breath, stepping out into the unwelcoming February night.

"You alright, Cam?"

Cameron: Cam listened to his own repetitive thoughts on the way to the hospital, and it wasn't until the car came to a stop that he returned to himself. With a blink he jumped from his seat and tried to use the bite of the cold air to stop himself from trying to will his mind to be somewhere else.

"Sorry- I'm... I'll be alright. hospitals- or parts of them- I hate hospitals, let’s just go with that," it was all too much to address right now, and he didn't want to make this about him. They were here for Kelly. He'd figure out how to process this when he saw Kelly.

"I'm good, I'm good," he tried to give Leslie a half smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He nodded towards the doors. "Lead the way."

Henry: With visiting hours over, the hospital was even quieter than it normally would be this time of year. The waiting area was empty. Only the rare page broke through the quiet.

But even so, the receptionist was sitting at her desk, chatting with a nurse and ready to help anyone that might come in.

When the two men entered, they would be given a friendly smile and asked, "Good evening, can I help ya'll?"

Leslie: Cameron was given a soft pat to his elbow. "We won't be long." He could have said more. 'I'm with you. It's for a good cause.' It seemed enough of a given.

Leslie approached the desk with the best smile he could muster. Honest in its intent at the very least. A glance of regard to her name plaque. His smile widened enough to crease the corners of his mouth.

"Hi, Tiffany. I'd like to know if Henry Brozek is available."

Cameron: Cam took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine," he gave Leslie a smile, this time with a little more confidence. "I just want to see Kelly. I can definitely endure a hospital for anyone I care about." His smile warmed as they approached the receptionist and he stopped beside Leslie, and looked between the two as they talked.

Henry: Tiffany smiled and nodded. "I think so, yes. Have a seat and I'll page him for you."

It being a slow night, Leslie and Cameron wouldn't have to wait long for Henry to appear. Even so, he looked a bit more somber than he usually did.

"Hey," he greeted.

Leslie: Leslie took to leaning against the nearest wall. Silence filled what normally would have been pleasantries until Henry's arrival. Climbing his thirties and still he looked just like a boy scout.

"Chippy," he greeted. "Hey, thanks for this. This is Cameron, by the way. Cam, this is my buddy Henry."

Cameron: Cam took a seat and stared at the ceiling until Henry arrived, and then he rose quicky from the chair when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Nice to meet you. Thank you for letting us do this." He offered a hand in greeting.

Henry: Henry smiled and shook Cameron's hand. "Nice to meet you too, man. Sorry it's not under better circumstances."

Speaking of which....

"Before I take you to see Mr. Rose, I've gotta ask. Has someone warned you?"

Leslie: "We just came from Peter's. We have the bare minimum of information. How bad is he?"

Cameron: Cam felt his heart sink at Henry's words and his expression returned to the blank one from earlier. He shook his head slightly.

Henry: Henry blew out a long breath. "I can't give you specifics, it's against hospital policy. All I can say is he's stable for now but he's, well. He sustained significant injuries."

Leslie: "Is he conscious?" At this point, that's all Leslie needed to know; the rest he could sort himself.

Cameron: Cam simply stared at Henry, and let Leslie ask the questions for them both.

Henry: "Right now he's sedated to keep him comfortable."

Leslie: "Is it alright if we look in on him? We won't disturb him."

Cameron: Henry's words rang hollow in Cam's ears. For a moment it was as if someone were shouting them down a long, darkened tunnel in Cam's direction.

Sedated. To keep him comfortable.

Cam swallowed, and, with a snap, he was back in the waiting room with Henry and Leslie.

"Please?"

Henry/Kelly: Henry glanced over at Tiffany. She was focusing very intently on her screen and pretending she didn't hear a single word that was being said. Sweet girl.

He looked back to Leslie and Cameron and nodded. "Just for a minute, or we'll all get in trouble. Follow me."

They would be led toward the elevators and taken up to the third floor.

It was even quieter and emptier than downstairs, due both to the hour and the time of year. Without the tourists in town getting themselves into trouble, they had more empty beds. Less strenuous shifts. Less staff on call. It was as close as a hospital could ever get to peace.

Kelly's room was halfway down the hall to the right, door open. Inside, a bedside lamp served as the only source of light apart from the glow given off by the various monitors surrounding the bed. Their beeping was the only sound apart from Kelly's soft labored breathing. As for Kelly himself...

A week's growth of beard covered a face that was noticeably more gaunt than the last time either would have seen him. Scars that he made an effort to conceal in his everyday life were thrown into stark relief by the low light. The same light also helped mask, however marginally, the myriad of bruises in various stages of healing all over his body. Some were all but black, some starting to inch toward healed yellow.

An IV kept him fed. An oxygen mask helped him breathe.

Leslie: Leslie reserved his feelings for the time being. The last thing Kelly needed was thrown emotion. Still, turning into the room, the sight caught him off guard like a forgotten stair. Someone or something had managed to inflict such damage to a credible creature. It was humbling, infuriating even.

"Thanks, Chippy. We uh, we won't be long."

Cameron: Cam was completely silent as they entered the room. The last time he'd seen someone in a bed like this, he didn't want to think about what had happened, or send that energy to Kelly.

Instead, he focused his energy on the present, and wordlessly moved to the side of the bed after a grateful nod to Henry.

"Who did this to you...?" Cam whispered softly, and his fingers curled into fists at his side to resist the urge to reach out and touch Kelly's hand. They'd promised not to disturb Kelly, and he meant to keep that promise as well.

Henry/Kelly: Henry nodded and clapped a hand on Leslie's shoulder. "Don't mention it. Seriously. I can give ya'll about five minutes then ya'll are gonna have to say goodnight for now." He left them to it.

There would, of course, be no answer from Kelly. He was lost to peaceful unconsciousness, aided by the medications being used to manage his pain. There was nothing Leslie and Cam could do to disturb him unless it was magical.

Leslie: Leslie circled the bed to the opposite side. His first thought was consciousness. Wondered if Kelly was aware at all of his situation; wondered if he could feel their presence. Some function of his species.

"I'm gonna put my hand on him." For some opaque reason, it seemed necessary to state his intention. A slow hand came to rest on Kelly's forehead. Eyes closed with a wince.

Cameron: Seeing Leslie reach out made Cam's resolve not to touch Kelly waver, and he reached out to gently touch Kelly's hand with the tips of his fingers. He noticed the wince and bit his lip as he looked at Leslie with concern.

"What?"

Leslie: "Just...feelings." He didn't want to elaborate. The utter mangle of Kelly's body, the invasiveness of surgical tools, knives, threading. So far away from everything familiar and harmonious. He wanted to hear Kelly's disapproving voice again. To see him as far away from this place as possible.

He pushed his intent into his hands. What meager little wounds could he discreetly heal he would tend to. It was not enough, but he had to do something.

"I'm helping with - where I can. Not much, but..."

Cameron: Cam crouched down next to the bed and slipped his fingers into Kelly's hand to gently hold it. It made his heart ache with the lack of reaction to his touch. Not that he expected any, but it still hurt.

"If I find out who did this..." he murmured quietly, more to himself than the other two, "...I promise to make sure they can never do this to anyone again."

His thumb traced a small circle on the back of Kelly's hand.

"At least...  at least you can do something. No matter how small..." He said to Leslie, and looked up to give him a half-hearted smile.

Leslie: "Don't let that be what you walk out of this room with," murmured Leslie. "That's not the kind of energy he needs. Remember how we met. What you said to me."

He could feel every little tear. Horrid scar tissue. There was no belief in this hospital. His magic was dim. If only he could bring Kelly home.

Cameron: Cam opened his mouth as if to argue, but slowly closed it as he thought better of it. While he thought this was different, this wasn't an accident but an intentional and malicious act of violence- this wasn't the place. Leslie was right, Kelly didn't need that. He needed positivity. He needed support.

He stared down at Kelly's hand in his own and gave it a smallest of squeezes.

"Alright Kelly," Cam tried to imagine Kelly upright in the bed, giving him that subdued half smile Cam had grown used to. "You'd better get better..." He swallowed, "... I know you will. I'm going to visit you every day until you do." Even if the future didn't hold what he wanted, Cam wasn't psychic after all, he had to believe there was going to be a Kelly there- free of this hospital bed and this place. He focused all of that hope into his touch, squeezing again as softly as he dared. If Kelly couldn't hear him or respond, Cam hoped he could feel it, somehow.

Leslie: Leslie opened his eyes and waited. He understood how defensive someone could be under such strained circumstances. Felt similar disappointment and anger with reckless people. Cameron had been there for him. Charles and Tristan gentle anchors. Support which needed to be paid forward.

"How much do you believe in what I do?" A pause, checking the door for Henry. "These places are suffocating, sterile. I need your assistance, love."

Cameron: "I believe in your magic as much as I believe in my own powers. I've seen you at work," Cam reminded, and he looked to Leslie as he stood up.

"Of course, what do you need?"

Leslie: "Just talk to me. Tell me the first time you witnessed magick."

Cameron: Cam paused and tried to think back to the first time he witnessed magick, something not based in a mutation or specific power.

"Before I could heal myself, my friend- who is basically my mom- I stopped by her place since she invited Lucien and I over for family dinner. I got into a tussle on my way there, and showed up beat to all hell. I had a black eye and a fierce road rash from getting tossed down a street- I wasn't wearing my usual gear, and had bandages up my arm. She used this ointment and worked her magick on my wounds when I showed up, she didn't even hesitate to help me. She basically healed me to almost good as new. I was sore, but that was it... It was amazing."

Leslie: Ointments? Interesting. Leslie gently smiled, squeezed Kelly's hand and slowed his breathing. Cameron's belief was strong. Even Kelly, despite unconsciousness, was a node against the consensual reality. Just a little more...

The prickling at the back of his neck warned him. He could offer nothing further. Not here.

"Is she a witch? This woman?"

Cameron: Cam shook his head. "She's a Druid."

Leslie: His brow furrowed. "Are you... Was that Bronwyn?"

Cameron: Cam gave Leslie a confused frown. "What?"

Leslie: "The druid. It was Bronwyn? From the Charles' Christmas party?"

Cameron: Cam nodded. "Yeah, that's her."

Leslie: "I could really use her help in this matter. My mother... perhaps both. He just shouldn't be here."

Cameron: Cam nodded. "Do you want me to call her? I can try to reach her now...?" He wanted Kelly to be free of his place as quickly as possible.

Leslie: "Tomorrow. Henry will be back any moment. We'll come back tomorrow. We'll think of something."

Cameron: Cam looked down at Kelly, and as soon as his thoughts dared dip towards the negative, he instantly chased them away. He gave Kelly's hand another squeeze.

"We'll be back tomorrow for you. We're gonna get you out of here," Cam whispered, and tried to focus all of the positive energy he could into his touch. Tomorrow. There was hope for tomorrow. Then he released Kelly's hand and turned to Leslie. "We should get going then, yeah?"

Leslie: "Yeah." But not before whispering a blessing in Kelly's ear. May your dreams be peaceful. May you find the strength within yourself to heal, as is your nature. Luna will not turn away her child. You are not alone.

They needed to leave. Henry didn't deserve trouble on their behalf. Still, the nurse would be given a quick and fierce hug of gratitude.

Cameron: Cam offered an awkward hand to Henry once Leslie was done with his hug. "Thank you, for letting us see him."

Henry: Henry had been about to go get Leslie and Cam when they came out of Mr. Rose's room and saved him the trouble.

He returned the hug and accepted the handshake. "No problem. Sorry I couldn't give you any longer. You should be good to come back tomorrow during visiting hours. You'll be able to have more time."

Leslie: "Thanks, Chippy. I'll give you a ring tomorrow."

The walk out of the hospital was slower than he would have liked, but he couldn't bring himself to quicken the distance between himself and Kelly.

"I miss my coven," Leslie said to the stars. "I don't - I don't like this feeling."

Cameron: Cam was quiet until the automatic doors of the hospital closed quietly behind them.  He inhaled the evening air in slow, even breaths, but despite this, he could not stop the bought of nausea that swelled in his chest and pressed at this throat.

He hated hospitals. Hated how sterile they smelled, how cold and empty they felt, how the bland walls and white tiles and pressed scrubs and- all of it- bolstered memories that clawed at him and crawled just beneath his skin. He was going to have nightmares tonight, and an intense wave of guilt washed over him as he felt relief- relief that he no longer had to walk those halls tonight, yet his friend remained trapped inside.

"Would your coven help with this sorta-"

With a sudden turn, Cam nearly ran into the alley beside the hospital, doubled over, and vomited onto the pavement with a heave that brought tears to his eyes.

He quickly wiped at his eyes, and then his mouth with the back of his hand, and he straightened up to try and collect himself.

"Would they- would they have helped with something like this? Why- why aren't you around 'em?" He asked, keeping his eyes downcast as he hoped to avoid the subject of his current nausea.

Leslie: His mother's coven, without a doubt would have come to his aid. His creation with Belmira, that was a different matter.

But that conversation was pushed to the side as Cameron fled for privacy. The unsavory sound which followed swelled his concern.

How could he ignore that?

"Let's...get us home first. Come home with me, okay? I'll get you some tea."

Cameron: Cam suddenly felt tired, and a part of him wanted to refuse Leslie's request. It'd be easier just to get shit faced, pass out, and hope the nightmares don't take him. Unfortunately, he knew that wasn't the right way to do things, and he was fairly sure Leslie wouldn't let him.

He could taste bile on the back of his tongue.

"Alright..." He said quietly, and he rubbed a hand over his face as he returned to Leslie's side.

Leslie: "Okay?" Just an extra confirmation. An arm wrapped around Cameron's shoulders for comfort or steady. Whichever Cameron needed more would be the excuse.

"To answer your question, yes. A gathering of awakened can resist the strength of consensual reality. I'm not with them anymore because I chose to leave."

Cameron: When Leslie touched him, Cam couldn't control the way his body flinched. His skin crawled at the contact, but another part of him knew he didn't need to recoil, that there was comfort there. So he forced himself to lean in, to gently grip the back of Leslie's shirt so he wouldn't pull away.

"No..." he answered honestly, but he didn't have the heart to elaborate. He could walk though, and started to move in the direction of Leslie's vehicle.

"What's awakened mean? Why did you leave?" Anything to keep Leslie talking so he didn't have to.

Leslie: "People that are aware of... their capabilities. Of magic. That the world is much bigger than what the majority believe." There was no sense in subtlety with Cameron. He had nothing to hide from him.

"I left because I needed to find my way again."

The passenger door was opened, waiting for Cameron to settle before closing.

Cameron: Cam settled into the seat, and as he waited for Leslie to jump in the driver's side, he scrambled for more questions. "Where you lost with your magic or something?" He asked. He had no idea how any of it worked.

Leslie: Here, Leslie would wait until the engine warmed. Some answers required a moment to breathe.

"Or something. Some in my coven were going down a dark path. I was among them."

Cameron: Cam stared out the front window, and quietly debated his next question. "How'd you know it was a path you didn't want?" He asked finally. "Do they just... Let you leave?" He could remember when he left the Brotherhood, it didn't go over well.

Leslie: Leslie started down the parking lot and out onto the small road leading out of town.

"It wasn't a - a greater good path. The ones in stories, where the villain does what he thinks is just for the better of humanity. It was viciousness for the sake of progress. It was wrong and it felt wrong."

A moment of silence stretched, caught up in memories. "Sorry, uh, I didn't give them any choice. I just packed my things and I left." Not a lie, but more a paltry summary of the experience. "I had a run-in with just one."

Cameron: Cam nodded. He could understand that too. When he was told to let children die in a burning building, he knew in that moment that it was wrong. It all felt wrong. He wondered what kind of strength it took Leslie to leave, and it made him admire his friend that much more.

"So... They don't normally just let you leave then?" Was what Cam assumed Leslie meant by that answer. "How'd... How'd that run-in go?"

Leslie: "There's no crime in leaving a coven. A real coven. That is, it's not a cult." Fingers rubbed against his lips. "I'd say poorly, for both of us."

Leslie turned his smile on Cameron. One for the sake of a pleasant atmosphere. "Enjoying the interview?"

Cameron: Cam felt a pang of guilt at that.

It wasn't hard to tell he was steering the conversation away from himself, but he knew that Leslie was also extremely perceptive. Cam wondered if that was a part of his abilities as a witch, like when they'd first touched.

"Sorry..." Cam said softly, and looked down at his upturned hands, laid limply in his lap. "I do actually want to know about you, and witch stuff- your coven..." which was all true, Cam found witches fascinating. In his avoidance he didn't mean for his questions to seem disingenuous, or like he was trying to grill the other for information.

Leslie: "You can ask me anything." Simply stated, but honest. Eyes fixed to the road while feeling for Cameron's knee to squeeze.

"Do you need a distraction? A uh, story?"

Cameron: Cam reluctantly reached out and gave Leslie's arm a squeeze, making sure to avoid direct skin contact. If he was going to tell Leslie what was on his mind, he wanted it to be out loud.

"Sure, a story would be great," Cam nodded.

Leslie: Leslie considered the possibilities. Opened his mouth, closed, tried again.

"When I lived in Charlotte, I met a girl named Belmira. Told ya about her, I think. She became my best friend overnight. Could hardly understand her through her accent. She's Portuguese. I was just a kid, but I was obsessed. I wanted to speak to her in her language. She's Verbena, like me. Dabbles in Matter as well. Makes her far more special than me. Can turn a rock into a tomato, and vice versa. Never has to want for anything. It... It'll go t'your head, that combination. Did go to her head. But when we were kids it was fun! So much fun. But, heh, when spells didn't go our way, I can - I can still remember the sound she'd make when she was frustrated. This little... like a squeal? A sound like what you'd imagine Barbie would make, kicking her foot out."

Cameron: The further into the story Leslie got the more the little smile on Cam's lips grew. It was a good distraction, and with it came more questions.

"Sounds cute..." Cam hummed, and from his past he remembered a few little ticks like that from people who made him smile.

"You said it went to her head... did something happen to her? Or just... magic like that is easy to... let change you?"

Leslie: "Power changes people, even good people. It doesn't have to be a negative change, but change is inevitable. Could call it growth." As though alone, he nodded to himself, shook his head. "Maybe it's the application. My father said it would go to my head when I produced my first flame. Said I was toying with one of the most dangerous spheres."

Leslie took a breath, took a left turn. "Some people can alter time. Go back, forward. Set themselves on repeat. Takes a toll in their body and mind, makes them feel godlike and behave the same. Some people have luck in the palm of their hands. Cockiest sonofabitches you'll ever meet. But...combining Life and Matter, living and inanimate, it did something to Belmira. That was her deadly combination. When she realized she could hurt someone without any obvious consequence, that was it. In an instant she was someone else."

Cameron: Cam slowly brought a leg to his chest and perched his foot along the edge of the seat. His arms wrapped around the leg and he leaned forward so he could use his knee as a place to rest his cheek while he listened to Leslie talk.

"Magic sounds so..." he wanted to say 'dangerous' but with the nature of his own life, that seemed a hypocritical statement, "alluring. In some crazy ways...." He frowned a little. "I don't know anything about magic but... it sounds like application. It's like mutants and their powers. You might be able to do something dangerous or hurtful, and your choice not to do that, or to use your abilities to help others, is what determines whether or not you're a hero or a villain. Or just- someone tryin' to live your fucking life. Doesn't have to be as dramatic as all the stuff I do..."

Leslie: "My father, Clive, builds houses for a living. He blesses every home. He brings tonics to work for his employees. Ones for health and good energy. He cares. My mother, Hazel, owns a tea shop. About the oldest form of the craft there is. What ails you? She's got a potion for that. A prayer. She could easily brew a potion to maim, murder, spill secrets. My parents never went down that path."

Cameron: Cam's smile softened.

"They sound lovely..." He squeezed his leg just a little bit and relaxed again. "Like the kinda witches I'd like to meet. Like you." He sighed and let his eyes close for a moment. "I wish I had abilities like that. Stuff that helped people directly. Stuff that was more than just me... I dunno, physically altering my surroundings." Stuff that would let him help Kelly. "Dunno why your dad said fire was a bad path to follow. You helped with that car when we met..."

Leslie: "You can do anything, Cameron. If you believe in the magic, you can use it. It's that simple. I'm a witch. If you believe anyone," he chuckled.

Cameron was given a quick glance. Almost home.

"You're a hero, love. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. What Clive said is true, or can be true. I suppressed the fire, but had that been an enemy? Could I have enraged it?"

Cameron: "Wouldn't that be a sight huh? Seein' me do some magic..." Cam laughed a little, and he quietly wished the weight on his shoulders would ease.

"I try to believe that," he said with a nod as his eyes opened again, and he gave Leslie a small smile. It was hard to believe, when there were plenty of things he'd done what weren't very heroic.

"Probably... coulda tried to hurt the guy responsible, but you didn't," Cam pointed out, and he gave Leslie a curious look. "Any particular reason you call your dad by his name?" Cam did the same thing with his own father, but it was because they were estranged.

Leslie: "Just something we've always done. Father is his title, but it's not a name. He's Clive. She's Hazel. Feels more personal."

Cameron was given a gentle smile in return, one with sympathy and restraint.

Finally, his dirt road. His little A-frame to the left. The crunch of gravel like a welcome home chorus.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I dunno about you, but I'm beat."

Cameron: Cam nodded slightly.

"I guess I could see that. If it already has that positive context, I could see how that'd work," He could never see himself using his father's name in a respectful manner.

"I... I dunno how long I should stay. Unless you've got something to knock me out cold into a dead-ass sleep, it's probably not wise for me to stay...." He could just picture himself accidentally destroying one of Leslie's rooms mid-nightmare.... and with a churn in his gut he realized this might not have the smartest of ideas. He was exhausted, but this feeling in his chest usually meant he was in for a bad night. He could pull an all-nighter, they had to get Kelly tomorrow, he had to contact Bronwyn...

Leslie: Keys were gently rolled between his hands. "Can I let you in on something? I have a little... gift, you can call it. People sleep better next to me. I promise you, for what a promise is worth, it's not sexual. I'll stay up if you'd prefer, or outside of the covers, or under them. You look a foot in the unconscious door."

Cameron: Cam stared at Leslie's hands, and for a moment debated turning down his offer.

"I'm not worried about it being sexual," Cam shook his head. He'd sleep with nearly any of his friends if asked, if only for the fact that it'd mean more to him than the experiences with the random men he usually invited into his bed.

Not that this would happen with Leslie, and in a way that was a different kind of comfort.

"I dunno how potent that ability is... but, if I do start to have a nightmare, can you promise to leave the room until it's over? I don't want to accidentally hurt you," he'd never be able to forgive himself if he did. He stared down at his hands. "You don't have to stay up either. It's just- if it starts to happen it'll start slow so you'll probably wake up before it gets crazy. I can fix the room after I wake up."

Leslie: Leslie watched, wishing he could understand what he was feeling, why he was feeling it, what was it about the hospital. He had his own reasons, but no reason was enough to make himself sick.

He pulled himself from his thoughts, shook his head as he asked, "You wouldn't rather I wake you?"

Cameron: Cam rubbed at his arm.

"You could try, but depending on where I'm at in the nightmare- waking me up only means I'll be conscious, but most likely not able to recognize where I am... basically a PTSD flashback." He explained quietly. Now was the time to tell Leslie why he was so uncomfortable. Now would be a good time to explain why he threw up once they left the hospital. He just had to....

"I... spent almost a month in a mutant experimental facility. It's like... a fucked up science lab where they abduct you, and run experiment after experiment on you. You don't exist to the outside world, so they... literally do whatever they want. There were no windows, so I measured time by when I was conscious and was, or wasn't, in pain.

It was perfectly white. Perfectly sterile. The doctors wore lab coats. The attendants wore scrubs. I wore scrubs when I wasn't being ripped open. The machines they hooked me up to beeped in the same ways. It smelled just like a hospital."

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"I haven't been in a hospital since then. Leaving Kelly there..."

Leslie: Leslie turned to press his back against the Jeep door, giving Cameron his full attention as he explained what he'd been wondering. Not a mind reader, just decent at reading the atmosphere. Another of Cameron's talents, perhaps.

What followed sickened him, and it showed in his eyes, the wince of his cheeks, the stillness of his hands.

"Those places diminish faith, belief in anything other than what they can offer. It kills my magic. It's why I needed your help. You're strong, Cameron, despite what's happened to you."

Leslie offered his hand. "He won't be there long. We'll find a way."

Cameron: Leslie had become a trusted friend. He had an energy about him that made him easy to trust, despite the short time they'd known each other, and at this point, with the night that could be ahead, he deserved to know what was on Cam's mind.

Cam nodded in silent agreement, but in moments like this, when something dark and uncomfortable clawed just beneath his skin, it was hard to truly believe it.

He reached out an took Leslie's hand to give it a squeeze.

"Logically I know it's not the same place. I know the intent is different and he's not going through some... fucked up testing- it's just... the similarities..." he shuddered, and his grip tightened on Leslie's hand for a moment. "I just reacted, and it's hard not to go back there, to be right back on that table- to feel like I'm betraying Kelly somehow. I always end up with nightmares when I go back to that place..." He shook his head and took a slow, deep breath.

"We'll get him out. We'll find a way," he nodded, as if trying to convince himself of Leslie's words by saying them out loud, and then he let go of Leslie's hand so he could pop open the door beside him.

"Could- do you have any tea- or something? Something I could drink before we sleep?"

Leslie: Leslie remained still, offering a calm energy as Cameron continued. He could squeeze his hand as tightly as he needed; aware the intent was connection, not pain.

"You're reacting to trauma. That's natural. Please don't be ashamed. You understand what's happening."

He took a deep breath for measure, something for Cameron to imitate by will or subconsciously.

The Jeep locked behind them, Leslie headed around to the backyard. Motioned for Cameron to follow.

"Of course. Regular tea, or my kinda thing?"

Cameron: Cam shrugged at that. It was hard not to feel... shame, or embarrassment, over not being able to sleep around others for fear of hurting them in his sleep.

Cam slipped from the Jeep and followed behind Leslie.

"I mean... what do you recommend?" He didn't drink tea often, but it sounded really nice at the moment.

Leslie: His pace slowed, waiting for Cameron to join him.

"On average, how many hours of sleep do you get?"

Cameron: Cam moved to walk with Leslie, and he shrugged.

"Depends. If it's a good night, maybe 6 hours. Bad nights mean I get like 2, if I sleep at all, and there's no nightmares." He shrugged again. "So I guess, 4 or 5- on average."

Leslie: A nod. "And do you have a preference in tea at all? Peppermint, earl grey, chamomile?"

Cameron: "I love mint, and chamomile is good too," Cam took a step towards Leslie as they walked, and he leaned into his friend.

Leslie: Leslie thought nothing of draping his arm around his shoulders. Just smaller, and yet Cameron felt so tall.

"I have just the thing. Valerian root. Smells, so you'll drink that, first. Hazel has just the recipe. Then some...mm... passionflower and lemon balm. I can make you a peppermint and chamomile tea in the morning."

The backdoor was unlocked. Opal yawned and stretched from her bed. Greeted with a soft hello.

"So tired you are. Want my shoulder?"

Leslie knelt, waited patiently as the little white ferret climbed his shoulder and around his neck like a breathing scarf.

"Opal, meet Cameron. We're gonna help him sleep."

Cameron: "You're the expert, I trust your judgement," Cam conceded.

As soon as he spotted Opal, Cam's eyes lit up, and when she finished settling into Leslie's shoulder he slowly approached and offered her his hand to sniff.

"Hello! You are adorable, my god. If you're helping, I'm guaranteed to sleep through the night."

Leslie: "She's a good girl. Wants under the covers and on my chest. Unless Tristie's with me. Then she wants his hair. That man is a sea creature."

Leslie slowly turned back to the small kitchen, taking a few tins from the shelf as he passed. One in particular not so pleasant. A smell one might consider very good cheese or very bad feet.

Even Opal grimaced from her perch.

"A spoonful to put you to sleep. Two spoonfuls for pleasant dreams."

Mixed with a small squeeze of lemon and warm water from the tap.

"Give that a minute and sieve with this." For now, he'd put the kettle on.

Cameron: "I have seen his hair, and that is completely understandable Opal," Cam greed with a nod, and he gave her a tiny scratch between the ears.

He grimaced with her at the smell, and he gave Leslie a look that clearly longed to ask if they could skip that one. "I gotta ingest that?" He asked in a soft whine as he waited.

Leslie: "Here." A slice of lemon was offered, gestured to his nose. "Trust me when I say this'll help. Hazel made that brew concentrate so you don't have to suffer an entire cup."

Cameron: Cam pouted, but he followed Leslie's instructions, and quickly ingested the glass with the lemon poised under his nose.

"Ugh..." Cam grunted once it was over, and he set the glass down. He ate the piece of lemon, and set the rind beside the cup.

Leslie: His host chuckled sympathetically. "I know. But the benefits outweigh the unpleasantness. Now, the reward of tea." A far superior aroma to replace what lingered in Cameron's mouth. Passionflower and lemon balm for two. Given what they'd seen, a night of peaceful rest was little to ask for.

"Want to shower while this steeps?"

Cameron: Cam could smell the tea as it started to steep, and he greatly looked forward to the point they could start to drink it. The tastes battling in his mouth were... unpleasant. At the mention of a shower, he nodded. Maybe the water would help wash away the way his skin felt like it was crawling.

"Yeah, a shower would be great."

Leslie: "I'll get you some clothes. Towels are folded under the sink. Really, make yourself at home, sweetheart. Tonight this is your home."

Cameron: Cam nodded and then pointed at the entry points leading to the kitchen. He tried to ignore the weird little thought buzzing around his head about 'home'.

"Which way to the shower? This is my first time in your home..."

Leslie: "That wall right there. This is the easiest house you'll ever be in," he chuckled.

Cameron: "It is a lovely home," Cam hummed, and he slipped into the bathroom to start up the shower. It took a moment of fiddling with the faucet to find the right temperature, just hot enough to make his skin tingle, before he stripped and slipped into the shower. He didn't spend long in the shower, just long enough to scrub at his skin and use a bit of whatever shampoo he found there, and he slipped back out of the shower to retrieve a towel and dry himself off.

Leslie: A green flannel henley was unearthed from the trunk. Gray sweatpants and socks, not sure their sizes mattered considering it was just the two of them. Still, boxer briefs to accompany. Not long for the scent of sweet sandalwood to fill the small space.

Leslie knocked his knuckles against the door. "Got some clothes here."

Cameron: The smell of sandalwood, combined with the tea and the shower, all helped to soothe some of Cam's nerves. As the hot water washed over him he started to zone out, only to be brought back to the present when he heard the knock at the door.

"One sec," Cam shouted as he turned off the water. A quick tousle of his hair with the towel before Cam wrapped it around his waist.

"Thanks," he opened the door and held out his hand to accept the offered clothes. He kept his torso behind the door in an attempt to hide the rest of his scars. He couldn't hide the ones down his outstretched arm, but he really hoped to avoid any questions about them tonight.

"I'll be just a sec," he closed the door behind him so he could quickly change, and when he was finished he hung his towel on the nearest hook before stepping back into the kitchen.

"That was... needed," Cam sighed as a little bit more of the tension seeped out of his shoulders.

Leslie: Questions would be avoided. Cameron had explained his past, which Leslie would base those scars upon. Their night was already heavy without adding another burden of confession. If Cameron wanted to give, he would take. No more than that.

Leslie smiled upon his return. Hip against the counter, arm hugged to his ribs as he sipped the last of his tea. Ugly yellow jacket and shirt hung and tossed respectively. Standing in bare feet, jeans, and white tank. Shoulders low with fatigue.

"You look better already. Want some more tea, or some sleep?"

Cameron: "I think a little more tea might be nice, if you don't mind? You don't have to though, you do look like you're about ready to pass out." Cam was sure he could too, within a few minutes of resting his head on a pillow. He just didn't want to. It felt silly to delay the inevitable but, more tea couldn't hurt, right?

Leslie: Another tea, then. Water still hot from the kettle. Less sugar this time.

"There's spare brushes under the sink. Feel free to pick one and leave it here." Because he doubted this was going to be the one and only sleep over.

Cameron: Cam nodded and grabbed one from under the sink so he could brush his teeth. He stared at himself as he brushed, and briefly wondered why he felt so... calm. He was still- off, but usually he felt... worse, when these things came up. He ran his hands through the damp hair clinging to his forehead, and sighed.

"I just left it on the counter," Cam explained when he returned again, and leaned against the counter beside Leslie.

Leslie: A fresh cup had been made. Set aside near the sink, just above the tiny fridge.

"Can drink it now or toss in the fridge." The stove was double checked before excusing himself for the bathroom.

"Bed's just up there. Won't be long." Just a quick rinse and a brush of his teeth, returning minutes later in black and blue checkered pajama bottoms and blue shirt. Wavy ash blond hair clung stubbornly to his ears and forehead. A quick shake of his head like a dog did the trick.

Cameron: Cam sipped a little of the tea and tried to enjoy the quiet moment to himself. Instead, it made him anxious, so he set the tea into the fridge before heading up to the bed. He stopped at the edge and stared down at it for a moment before taking a seat on its edge.

"You feelin' any better after a shower?" Cam asked when he returned.

Leslie: "Showers make everything better. At least by a small margin." Torc bracelet and leather cuff watch were removed and placed on the chair. Braided leather necklace and piercing remained as he climbed into bed.

"Are you still comfortable with this?"

Cameron: "With what? Sleeping in the same bed- snuggling?" Cam asked as he watched Leslie finish his prep for bed. "Yeah. Are you comfortable? If this isn't okay I didn't think you'd offer, but - if it's not - I'll be okay." He shrugged. He craved physical contact, and he trusted Leslie, so he hadn't really questioned the offer up to this point. It sounded nice to be able to share a bed with his friend. And if it meant he had a chance of sleeping through the night? He wanted to try. Getting to cuddle with his friend was just a bonus.

Leslie: "Mhm." The white comforter and tan sheet were pulled out as invitation to his guest. "Just double checking." This was about Cameron, after all, and he wanted this to be a positive experience.

He rolled himself onto his back and stretched. Arm spilled over Cameron's side of the bed. His chest wide and inviting, pale and just warm.

Cameron: Cam paused for a moment at the edge of the bed, before joining his friend beneath the covers. With ease he nestled against Leslie's side, and draped his arm over the other's waist. "This okay?" He asked, his head against Leslie's chest.

Leslie: "Comfortable? Been told the bed's too soft." His eyes were already closed. "If I grind my teeth too loud, just give me a shove." He gestured with two fingers off somewhere. "Mouth guard thing is somewhere."

Cameron: "I's perfect," Cam replied, his eyes already closed as well as he nestled in just a little further. "And if I start to toss and turn and talk in my sleep, if stuff starts to happen- just leave the room till it quiets down, I'll fix anything that gets wrecked when I wake up..." and already he drifted off to sleep, his body relaxing against Leslie's side.

Leslie: Leslie, well aware he was not a light sleeper, had half a mind to fight unconsciousness altogether.  By the sound of it, Cameron would need saving from himself. He wondered what nightmares were like, as he couldn't recall ever having one. He pitied those poor souls wracked by the terrors of their own mind.

But sleep took him. His face against Cameron's hair, held in a non-grasp. At some point in the night he began to grind his teeth. A small moan intended as words. He nuzzled himself in.

Cameron: Cam is a clinger in his sleep, so the further Leslie nestled in Cam naturally followed suit and nuzzled into the comfort his friend's embrace.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long until he started to stir. It might have been the grinding of teeth, or Cam had simply reached the turning point of his dream, but unrest quickly settled into his limbs. A crease formed in Cam's brow and his breathing changed from its even pace to soft, uneven exhales. He shifted against Leslie and his body suddenly went unnaturally rigid before he started to tremble.

Leslie: "Mm-mm." Still not awake, but Cameron was hugged to his chest. Too much movement. Had him assuming his heat source was on the move. Forbidden. He needed those snuggles, and nuzzled himself into that green hair and against his neck.

"Good sleep," he breathed.

Cameron: At first the affection seemed to sooth the disturbance in Cam's dreams - but it wasn't long before Cam began to struggle against the comfort- or the confinement - of Leslie's arms and affection. Cam's fingers curled into blankets and Leslie's shirt, pulling and twisting in short, jerky movements as his breathing quickened. He groaned and a deep crease formed between his brows. Then Cam writhed, arching and gasping as his nightmare took another dark turn.

Leslie: It was the tugging of his shirt which finally stirred the witch. A moment taken to gather his wits. Staring at his guest with blank, tired eyes before the rest of him caught up.

"Mm, sweetheart." He settled on slow circles over Cameron's chest, rather than aggressive shaking or taps to his body. In his tired logic, it seemed the most gentle method.

Cameron: Cam shuddered, but his movements slowed, then stilled, until only labored breathing remained. The gentle touch eased the sense that he was 'confined' - and finally Cam's breathing evened until his eyes fluttered tiredly open. He stared blankly at Leslie as his own mind tried to wake up, and Cam reached up to rub a few stray tears with the heel of his palm.

"M'sorry..." He breathed softly, and he glanced around them. He was startled to find the room intact, and nothing appeared to have moved. "I didn't.... I didn't break anything?" He asked, and then it occurred to him that Leslie was still in the bed with him. He stared at Leslie, confusion obvious in his expression. "I didn't- you- you woke me up?"

Leslie: For a moment, it looked as though Leslie had nothing to say. Watching Cameron carefully, from his teary eyes to his hands wiping away what had slipped from his lashes.

"Remember what you dreamed?" Words slurred with exhaustion. He repositioned himself flat on his back, reinviting his guest to settle where he pleased.

"Everything's fine. We're fine."

Cameron: Cam stared at Leslie for a moment, and quietly looked away as he felt shame creep up his shoulders.

"Normally, during those it's hard to wake me up. I had to start locking Zeus outside of my room on bad nights because I nearly hurt him once while asleep. He's a smart dog, he's tried to wake me up..." Cam hesitated to move. He wanted to nestle back against Leslie's side, but the terror from the dream, residual guilt, and guilt for waking up his friend made him unsure if he should.

He fell silent instead and tried to chase the fading remnants of his nightmare while he stared down at his hands.

"I always do, for the most part," he replied quietly. "But I'm normally more... "in emotional pieces" when I wake up. This is probably the first time in a while I didn't wake up screaming, or having trashed my room with my powers..." he glanced at Leslie. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he could tell his friend was exhausted.

Leslie: "Nope. No mess. No pain. No... nothing." He tried to smile through the sleepy, and it was mildly silly to look at, with eyes half shut and smile just a little too wide. If Cameron needed to talk it out, by all means. He watched and listened and waited until the apology, waving it off with a shake of his head and hand.

"Nah, s'fine." That same exhaustion was gripping mercilessly. "Make it up t'me n'sleep."

Cameron: Cam hesitated another moment before he smiled softly at his friend's goofy, sleepy look. Then he snuggled back up to Leslie's side and nuzzled his head into Leslie's shoulder. "Alright..." and a few minutes later his breathing evened out, and he fell back into a surprisingly sound sleep.

Leslie: Leslie joined in no time, turning to rest his cheek against Cameron's forehead. The occasional grind of his teeth, but nothing more harmful throughout the night. Still an early riser, Leslie replaced himself with a pillow, slowly wriggling from bed and the sheets tangled at his ankle. He needed water and a good long stretch. Time to himself to reflect the goings on last night and not - again - to forget his insulin.

Cameron: Cam was not a morning person, so while he whined when Leslie left the bed, he accepted the pillow replacement and dosed for a while longer. When he finally rolled out of bed and wandered into Leslie's kitchen, he still looked sleepy and a little out of it, with bed-head sending his green hair in multiple different directions.

He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck as he sent Bronwyn a quick text:

{Hey, are you free sometime today?}

Then he set to searching for Leslie.

Leslie: Leslie was outside, on the porch in his underwear and a plain blue shirt. Stretched long with his forehead to his knees, holding center to his feet.

"You're up earlier than I thought."

Bronwyn: {Text to Cam} I'm at the shop today but it's not too busy if you want to come by

Cameron: Cam quickly typed out another text in response.

{Yeah, if you don't mind? Leslie and I need your help to help out a friend in trouble.}

Cam tucked his phone back into his pocket. Then he yawned again as scratched at his shoulder, exposing one of the large scars that started at his collar bone and moved down to the center of his chest.

"Yeah, I don't usually get up this early, but it happens. It probably helped that I slept so soundly after I first woke up.... thanks for that," Cam reached up and arched his back, stretching his arms up to the ceiling with a grunt, and a small line of his hips was exposed above his borrowed sweatpants. Then he sighed and let his arms fall back to his sides. "You got any coffee by chance?"

Leslie: Leslie kept his eyes closed. Stretched with arms over his head, perfectly flat and relaxed.

He would never understand that habit, but, he supposed, that was the way of all habits.

A single eye opened. A quick assessment of his guest.

"We've got tea, chilled tea with lemon, orange juice, and carrot juice. So, no more nightmares?"

Cameron: "Orange juice it is," Cam nodded, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. He returned with a glass filled with the orange liquid in question.  "Nah. If I had any I don't remember them. I don't think I had any more, cause normally when I have a bad night I don't feel like I slept at all, but I don't feel that way today." He took a sip of his drink and leaned against the nearest wall. "Did you sleep okay? After I woke you up?"

Leslie: Leslie sat up, raised his knees to rest his forearms and simply watched Cameron as he spoke. Realizing some things about his new friend.

"Glad you got some quality sleep. Can always stay over when you need it."

He nodded, eyes falling to his toes. "Mm. Told I talk in my sleep. I don't even remember waking up, if I'm honest."

Cameron: "Thanks.... I'll letcha know if I need it, I guess,” he sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck and then bit his lip. It felt weird to ask for help in that way, but if Leslie was offering, and it seemed to work pretty well this time... he could try it again.

"Well, I'm glad then. I didn't hear ya talking at all, outside of the conversation we had."

Leslie: "Good! Might be surprised - or not? - how many people just go with it and just keep talking," he smiled. "So! Breakfast, and we'll make a plan for today. What are you feeling?"

Cameron: "Whatcha got? If ya don't have coffee I have a fear my suggestion for bacon, eggs and hashbrowns might go unanswered," Cam smiled in return as he teased, and he took another sip of his juice.

Leslie: "Oh ho. There's where you're wrong. What would you say to grits, eggs, and strawberry yogurt on toast?"

Cameron: "Sounds delicious, can I help at all?"

Leslie: "Can you poach or fry eggs?"

Cameron: Cam paused.

"Ummm.... I meant more with prep - I am... admittedly very bad at cooking."

Leslie: "Well, you've spent the night with a chef. We'll have you frying eggs in no time."

Cameron: Cam looked skeptical.

"Well I wish you luck, the last time someone tried to teach me how to cook didn't go the greatest..."

Leslie: "Did you burn a pan?" he asked, getting to his feet.

Cameron: "I burned the entire stove."

Leslie: "How... did you manage that?"

Cameron: "I'd... rather not talk about it." Cam sipped casually at his drink and avoided looking at his friend.

Leslie: Leslie tilted his head, nodded. He thought it would have been a funny story, but it seemed to be a source of embarrassment. He'd let it go.

"So, you're in charge of toast and strawberry slices. Watch me make eggs and grits. Do you want cheese grits or peppery?"

Cameron: Cam was grateful Leslie let it go, but for Leslie's benefit he added, "let's just say I wasn't paying a lot of attention to what I was doing- some things nearby lit on fire, and then part of the stove was on fire."

He shrugged and grinned at Leslie's question.

"Cheese please!"

Leslie: "Cheese grits coming right up." Cameron would be only mildly supervised. His tasks weren't difficult, and the kitchen small. The tiny cabin forced intimacy with every guest. Part of its charm in Leslie's opinion. Reminded him of Kelly's visit some time ago, and had him stirring the grits for a minute longer than necessary, just off in his own world.

"When are we seeing him again?"

Cameron: The tasks given to Cam were easy enough to handle, and he started with the strawberries.

"Well, when can we move him here?" Cam asked and he glanced over at Leslie.

Leslie: "You want him here?"

Cameron: "Isn't that what you said? Or were you thinking of somewhere else?" Cam couldn't remember, that portion of the evening felt like more of a blur than a real memory. "There's plenty of room at my place," he offered, although he wasn't sure how attentive he could be between kids and his night classes. "I just know we wanted to get him out of there."

Leslie: "Maybe he'd feel safer waking at his place, but I don't mind him being here. Don't mind at all. He just needs to be well enough to leave. Did you uh... message Bronwyn? I still need to call Chippy. Oh! Did you still want a peppermint and chamomile tea?"

Cameron: "We could take him to his place too, I just wanna make sure we can watch over him," Cam nodded, "I messaged her, she said she's at the shop but we can stop by. Yeah, I'll take some of that. Is there honey I could put in?"

Leslie: "Shop where?" he asked, adding water to a bright red kettle.

"Honey's on top of the fridge."

Cameron: "New Orleans," Cam explained as he glanced down at his phone. "I have a friend who can take us, unless you wanna use a porter?" He retrieved the honey and set it down on the counter.

Leslie: Leslie smiled to himself. There was something delightful in hearing familiar terms with trustworthy friends.

"How much does your friend cost?"

Cameron: Cam paused and thought to himself.

"One is free but will take longer to get a hold of - the other is very food motivated, so if I offer to get him some sort of sweet treat I'm sure he'd transport us. He knows Bronwyn too so that helps."

Leslie: Leslie smiled. "I love feeding people. Sorta my thing. Let's try him."

Cameron: Cam smiled in return and nodded. Then he sent Vincent a quick text.

{Hey bird-brain, you free by chance? My friend and I need a lift to Bronwyn's, and there's some delicious food in it for you if you don't mind helping us out!}

Bronwyn: {Text} Sorry, I got distracted!

{Text} I don't mind at all, I hope I can help. Do you need Vincent to come get you?

Cameron: Cam glanced over at Leslie and then the strawberries, and he grabbed one so he could take a quick bite.

{No worries <3 and yeah, I sent him a text but I figured he's not looking at his phone lol}

Leslie: Vincent's phone was somewhere in Bronwyn's house - or perhaps Adrik's. He couldn't keep track of that cumbersome device. At the moment, he was perched on Bronwyn's shoulder, oblivious of messages except those reading from his mobile seat.

Bronwyn: {Text} Nope, he’s looking at mine. He’s sitting on my shoulder

{Text} When should I send him for you?

Cameron: "When will we be ready for Vincent to come grab us?" Cam asked Leslie as he glanced up from his phone.

Leslie: "He can have breakfast with us." He vaguely remembered that name.

Cameron: {Now if you want, he can have breakfast with us}

Bronwyn: Bronwyn turned to her familiar. “Do ye want to have breakfast with Cam and Leslie in return for bringin’ them over?”

Leslie: "Food!" The bird chirped, hopping down from his perch to land on human feet.

"What do you think they want?"

Bronwyn: “Apparently a friend o’ theirs needs help. I’m guessin’ the friend must be hurt in some way.”

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 26)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2988

Warnings: dealing with animals(??)

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy​​​​. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​.

I had sent a floo message to Dumbledore, telling him I would be in later that day. I had some business to attend to. I stormed into the Ministry, going to Leta’s desk. When I found it empty, I turned to the person beside her desk, sitting in their own space. 

“Do you know where Ms. Lestrange has gone to?” I inquired.

“Um, no, Ms. Vaughan,” he answered, seeming a bit skittish. “Oh, I think she went to a bookstore, in Diagon Alley.” 

“Thank you.” 

I made my way over to Diagon Alley, and on the first bookstore I encountered, I saw Leta Lestrange through the window, near the cash register. I used a non-verbal spell to slam the doors open to the bookstore, causing everyone in it to look at me. Leta looked up, wondering what the sudden noise was. 

Everyone else in the bookshop seemed to curl in on themselves as my face held nothing but a beautiful rage. I walked over to her, my eyes burning with rage. 

“ Five minutes. It took you all of five minutes to show your face here and like a storm, you’ve destroyed every relationship in your path. You must be rather proud of yourself. New record, I supposed.” I scowled at her as I stared into her eyes. 

Leta shook her head and gave a bit of a smile. ‘I didn't commit a crime. I came back to my fiance."

With venom in my voice, I responded,  "But he's not your fiance, anymore. He hasn't been for quite sometime and it's characteristically selfish of you to assume the world stopped because you were gone."

“Me, selfish? What about that cousin of yours? She flirted with a man who was to be engaged. She seduced a grieving man, and what more? She’s gone off and made everyone worry for her. People assumed I was dead. I’m the one back from the dead and yet no one seems concerned with me. Tell me, Rosaline, which of us sounds more selfish? The one who turned up after being dead, or the one who ran off like a child because she couldn’t get what she wants?” 

I smirked. "This is eating you alive... isn't it?" 

Leta’s eyes shifted away as she tried to gather her books. She responded, "I don��t know what you’re talking about.” 

"You can't stand the fact that someone good is getting care, love, attention. That people are worried for her. That we have people all over the globe looking for her. And you no longer demand that kind of attention. No one cares where you were or where you are, now that you're back." I shook my head, a bit of a laugh escaping it. “Leta Lestrange gives up her life for the greater good, and the world is still turning.... imagine that..." I tsked and she seemed ready to cry, or hit me. "You no longer have the love and attention of Theseus. You don't get the anger that you want from me, or the devotion you've come to expect from Newt. You didn't know Nora. You still don't, and you never will, and that's exactly why you could never understand why Theseus is so worried. Why anyone could be more concerned with where she is than you reappearing. Simply put, she matters to us. To him. You don't. Not anymore, at least."

“I return home, after being presumed dead for a year, and instead of being met with open arms and warm smiles, I’ve been met with nothing but hostility and indifference. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe there’s a reason for that? And the reason is you?” I asked coldly. “Stay out of our lives. Theseus doesn't want you, Newt doesn’t want you, and I certainly don’t want you. Consider this the friendliest warning you can receive before it’s officially a threat.” 

“You don't have any power any more, you can't bully me into doing what you want, Rosaline." 

I took a step closer to her, narrowing my gaze at her, getting incredibly close to her face. “Don’t I? I have friends at MACUSA. I have friends at the Ministry. I am dating Theseus’s brother. and I was engaged to Grindelwald for a while and I've kept some of his secrets - I have allies all over the globe, in all sorts of pockets, with all levels of power...do...not...test me,” I challenged, malice in my voice before turning and exiting the shop briskly.

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

I went back to Hogwarts that night and checked in with my contacts all over the globe, no one had any news. I don’t think I’d ever felt more frustration in my life than at that moment in time. I kept up with the potions and spells to try and locate her the rest of the week, but nothing helped. Nothing happened. 

Newt retrieved me Friday evening and took me back to his flat. We had dinner at a restaurant, then we returned back to his flat and he bid me goodnight, telling me the guest room was set up. I thanked him and went to work. 

I began working on a new potion, having access to different potions here and ingredients. 

It was well past 1 am when Newt came down the stairs in his night clothes. “Rosaline?” he called, rubbing his eyes. “Rosaline, it’s nearly two in the morning? What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” 

“Trying to find Nora,” I informed, as if it were obvious. 

"You know you don't have to run yourself ragged to find her. You can do it. You always do," he encouraged but his words only sent anger through me.

“Really? Because i haven't found her yet, so what do you know?" I muttered in response, snapping at him. I sighed, dropping my ingredients and leaning against the counter in his kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Newt. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. I’ve never… I can do anything. You know this. And I can’t simply find my own sister. Not through tracking, not through intuition, not through magic. Not to mention, Dumbledore gave me this bloodpact to break and I haven’t made a dent in it. I’m a failure and I’m not used to that, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry. I'm just worried, and nothing is working. How can nothing be working? What if she's hurt? What if Grindelwald has found her? What if he tries to hurt her or use her to get to me?" I shook my head. “This isn’t about me though. I just don’t want her to be hurt somewhere. She hasn’t reached out to any of us. She didn’t leave a note. I know she left because of Theseus and Leta, but what if… while she was alone, something happened?” 

“Nothing’s happened. Nora is a strong woman. Perhaps nothing is working because Nora skillfully hid herself from us and she doesn't want to be found?”

I bobbed my head as he came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them. 

“Here, sit,” he coaxed. “How about you make yourself a cup of tea. I’ll be right back.” 

Weakly, I nodded before putting on the kettle and sitting down, rubbing my forehead. I made a cup of tea, and just as I was about to sip it, Newt came up the stairs from down in the creatures’ basement. 

“What’s that? A charm to make me the best tracker in the world?” I asked, a bit bemused and exhausted. 

He frowned, tilting his head to the side, indicating that’s not what it was. “This...is a boggart,” he said, his hands holding a small box like a jewelry box. “I think… we may need to revisit what your biggest fear is.” 

My brows came together in confusion. “Why? What will that help? It’s still time, and we’re running out of it by not--”

Newt put the box on the table, reaching over and taking my hands in his. “I think we should take a look,” he urged. “Please?”

I smiled at him, a bit resentful that he could get me to do anything with a simple request. “Very well.” 

He opened the box and the boggart swirled out, nearly faster than I could see. I braced, expecting to see Grindelwald, Nora hurt or worse, the hour glass, a clock -- but none of those things appeared. 

Instead, in front of me stood -- myself. 

A mirror image stood before me and I frowned, turning to Newt.

“I… I don’t understand. This is a boggart, is it not?” 

“It is,” he affirmed, stepping forward. “Rosaline, your biggest fear is you. You’re afraid you're not strong enough or good enough. You’re afraid you’ll disappoint yourself. You’re afraid you’ll turn into the darkness that Grindelwald made you while he had you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped it away quickly. 

“How did you know? I didn't even know,” I asked, perplexed. 

He said a quick spell and the boggart was back in the box, sealed tight. He let his wand fall into the pocket of his pants. “Because I’ve known you for nearly all of our lives. Is it that surprising that I’d know what it looks like when you’re so obviously loathing yourself? We shared the Hufflepuff common room for seven years. You were practically my assigned shadow for over a year. We’ve worked side by side for five years. I’ve befriended your sister in the time we weren’t working together. I spent months searching for you, and we have been romantically involved for months. It is not a stretch to say that I know you, and I know you very well.” He coaxed me to sit down at the table. “Rosaline, I love you, and I care for Nora. We will find her, but nearly killing yourself to find her will not do it. Nora wouldn’t want this. She left with a sound mind. I’m not saying to stop looking for her, but is it possible we could take a break? Or even ask for other help? Perhaps have Dumbledore look?” 

I nodded. “Yes. I don’t suppose it would hurt to take it a bit slower. I’m not used to anyone if I burn out. I just…” I bit my lip, never having admitted this to anyone. “My power is all I have, I don’t have any other redeeming qualities, so if I’m not the best spell caster or smartest one in the room, what can I possibly bring to the table?” I shook my head before my face fell into my hands, tears flowing freely now. I hadn’t cried in a long time. Not since I woke up from Grindelwald’s curse and before that, I was a young girl. “You’re so kind, intelligent, patient, hardworking, and just… everything Newt. Nora is witty, charming, sweet, always protective, business savvy, strong, independent. So I worry that whenever I run into something I can't handle, something I can’t do, I start to lose the little bit I bring to your life.”

He began to shush me. “Rosaline,” he started, his face and voice gentle, “do you really think I’m that shallow?”

“No, but--”

“But nothing. Rosaline, I don’t love you for the magic you can perform. Yes, it’s nice and i’m proud of you whenever you use it to help free an animal or heal a creature. But you’re so much more than just your magic abilities. You’re the woman who stepped away from a position that could be susceptible to corruption because you didn’t want to turn out that way. You gave up fame, fortune, and glory just to come work with me because you said my work was meaningful. My work as a measly little magizoologist. You protected me from other students at Hogwarts who wanted to tease me. You have continually attacked my brother’s ex-fiance, albeit that isn’t the greatest thing, you did it to help your sister and protect my brother. For as long as I’ve known you, Rosaline, you do everything because you have a heart of gold. Your magic is just one small tool you use to help make those things a reality, it isn’t the whole picture, and it certainly isn’t why all those children at Hogwarts adore you, or why those professors all praised your potential. You are good. More importantly, you are good enough, especially for me.”

This time, happy tears poured out and I got up and hugged him, wrapping him so tightly I wasn’t sure either one of us could breathe. 

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

I returned to Hogwarts and decided to talk with Dumbledore again. I went to his office, knocking on the open door before stepping in. “Professor?” I greeted, walking up to him. He was seated at his desk, reading. 

“Oh, hello, Rosaline. How are you?”

“Not too well since Nora is still missing. Have you heard anything?” I wondered. 

He shook his head. “No, but I feel it’s not my place to get involved. Nora is a very headstrong and independent woman. She clearly left intentionally, so who am I to question that?” 

I furrowed my brows at him. “She wasn't in the right state of mind. Leta turned up at Theseus’s doorstep and like all men, he had the good thought to say something stupid about it and she misunderstood, so she left.”

“Precisely. This all sounds like a lovers quarrel and I don’t feel inclined to interfere.”

I took a step forward, my hand going to my chest, balling a fist up over my heart. “My sister, while very adventurous and sometimes careless, has never just outright walked out on her life. Never. She didn’t even leave a note or sent word that she’s alright. I’m concerned about her, Albus. I’m asking for your help. Please. I’ve never asked for a thing from you except letters of recommendations.” 

“I want to help, Rosaline, truly I do. But I just can’t permit myself to do that. I can maybe try a simple tracking spell but there are no guarantees. Bring me something of hers the next chance you get and I will get started on it.” 

“Thank you,” I breathed out and he gave me a small smile and nod. 

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

Nora had been missing for two months. 

For two months, I’d used every ounce of energy and time to dedicate to finding her. Nothing was found though. I didn’t lose hope though, just sleep, and partial sanity. Newt and Theseus tried like maniacs to help. 

My threat to Leta didn’t go unnoticed. Leta told theseus about it, but rather than lecture me or give me grief over the matter, he took the moment to explain to Leta that she did in fact cause issues for him. He told her that he loved Nora, had for quite some time, and Leta’s return didn’t change that. 

I worried and worried every day, fearing the worst, wondering what happened to my beloved sister. I oftentimes wanted to scour the whole earth, but I couldn’t. Thoughts of her abduction ran in my head, but if they did abduct her, wouldn’t they reach out to me with the plans for a threat, or a trade? None of that had happened yet. I reinforced all the spells around my quarters at Hogwarts and Nora and my flat, just in case it was Grindelwald.

So logically, ultimately, I had to accept the tragic truth that Nora Vaughan just didn’t want anything to do with me, or the Scamander brothers, or even her own book shop. 

Theseus had been missing now for a week as well. He went off in search of Nora. I, nor Newt, had any idea of his whereabouts. We had no idea if he’d found her by now or not. We simply had to keep working to try and find her too, and hope we could get word to Theseus. 

After Newt and I went out for a bite to eat, he walked me to Nora’s flat, where I was still living. I touched the handle and it had alerted me, through a spell I put on it, that someone had entered the flat. I gave Newt a look of caution and pulled out my wand. 

I unlocked the door silently and came up the steps as quietly as I could while Newt searched the downstairs. I went to my room first, thinking it was someone to get me. Pushing open the door, my wand at the ready, it revealed my normal, empty bedroom. I walked over to Nora’s room, holding my breath. I sincerely hoped that she was on the other side, but I didn’t put a lot of faith in it. 

I clutched the handle, turned the knob,readied my wand, and pushed. 

The sight surprised me. 

But it was a happy, welcome surprise. 

Nora and Theseus were curled around each other on her bed, her old blankets covering them. All of her things were back in their rightful place. My fear, anxiety, and worry melted away in an instant. 

Newt was suddenly right behind me. “Did you find the intruder?” he asked.

“No intruder,” I whispered over my shoulder as I moved slightly so he could see as well. “They’re home.” 

“Ah. It’s so good to see them,” he affirmed. 

“Yes… it is.” I closed the door, letting them sleep. “But, that brings about a bigger  matter,” I said. 

“Oh?” 

“Things seem to be moving quickly with Theseus and Nora. I think it’s time I stopped overstaying my welcome and moved into a new flat.”

“Right, yes, that… yes, that might be wise.” 

“How would you feel about one that was closer to you?” I asked, both emboldened and slightly fearful of his response. 

“I think that would be quite lovely, actually.” 

I beamed at him. “I do too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[thedragonslibrary]

Is it possible to be blocked like magick or energy wise? I do not know how to put it in words but sometimes I feel like there is something that i should connect to or should be able to do but I am not. Maybe I am not idk well practiced enough but it sometimes feels like I am running against a glass wall. Maybe I Idk man. I am just really frustrated. I cant really give examples just everytime I do something magick related it feels like running against a wall and it makes me wanna cry. Sorry

Yes, of course it’s possible to be blocked!  

To clarify, your first statement about feeling as though you should be able to “connect” to something is a common beginner issue.  It may simply be that you haven’t found the thing you’re supposed to connect to yet - whether that’s opening your third eye and being able to talk to your guides, finding the deity and/or pantheon you connect most to in a religious manner, or simply opening your psychic awareness fully enough to feel the energies around you.  The best advice I can give is to experiment.  Try everything, and don’t hold yourself back!  

When I was a beginner witch, I tried everything from Wicca to demonolatry to Christian witchery, from reiki to hexing and cursing, from psychopomp work and shadow work and light work and everything you can imagine.  If you can think of it, I probably tried it in some way.  Only by putting yourself out there in as many avenues and paths as you possibly can, will you find what works for you.  If something doesn’t work, doesn’t fit or “feel right,” put it away and move on.  Read everything you can - on Tumblr, in books, in every single resource you can find.  It took me probably five or six years of exploration to figure out what generally “worked” for me, and I still feel like I’m learning and discovering new outlets for my magical expression.

An extra “something” is not for everyone.  Often in magical practices, you are the source of your own power.  Sure, crystals and herbs and grounding and gods help, but ultimately the magic is coming from you.  You might not necessarily need an extra “thing.”  Let your magic be intuitive, don’t let books or Tumblr bloggers tell you how to do your thing step-by-step.  Take spells or rituals and modify them to fit your needs - that is how they’ll be most powerful and useful for you.

But back to the topic of blockages, if you have already had magical abilities previously: I have gone through blockages myself, and they are exactly what you described here: frustrating, like hitting a wall.  Sometimes it feels as though all your “power” has been taken away, and you’re left without your previous magical agency.  You might have the thought that perhaps you were just making everything up all along, that maybe you’ve been deluding yourself.  Trust me, you didn’t, and things will get better!  

In my experience, there are two general types of blocks you can have.  I’ll outline them for you and how they can be worked through.  

The first is a bit simpler, and is more like an art block.  Lots of magic-users go through periods of this softer, mental blockage at some point or another on their path.  It can be sometimes referred to as a Fallow Period, which comes from a similar phrase in farming used to refer to when a partition of soil is meant to rest for a season or two to regain its fertility.  

A Fallow Period can arise from burnout, especially from outside sources creating stress in your life.  

Magic, especially psychic and spirit work, is infinitely more difficult when you are stressed, going through a rough mental health period, or when you are physically ill.  

Fallow Periods can also be caused through divine intervention - your spirit guides or deities may have decided that you need to take a break to focus on real life, or to focus on taking care of yourself for a little while.

Blockages of this nature eventually right themselves, but it can take time - it can last anywhere from a few months to over a year.

The best thing to do when you’re experiencing a fallow period like this is to not force it.  You are only going to frustrate yourself if you continue to attempt to perform magically and have little to no results.  Additionally, you’re going to create a deadly cycle of feeling disappointed in yourself, and eventually burn out so hard you won’t want to do magic at all anymore.

Instead, take some time to create: write poetry, draw, or paint.  Write devotional poetry.  If you want to do magical work, work on your grimoire or book of shadows.  Focus on practical magic you can do with your hands - cooking, creating items with intent, cleansing and clearing your home.

Take time to meditate and perform self-care.  Perform practical, easy meditations like the simple, free ones in the Headspace app, or find guided meditations for free on YouTube that bring you into fun, brightly colored astral spaces.  Take baths and imagine all of your troubles washing away down the drain when you’re finished.  Give yourself room to heal and just feel good about yourself.

When you feel ready to move out of your Fallow Period, it will come very naturally.  Like an urge to pick up a witchcraft book or to astral travel suddenly.  Don’t worry about easing back into it - while taking it slow might be good for some, it’s not for everyone.  If you’re really excited to get back into magic, and you’re being urged to do it right now, go ahead and do it!

The other type of blockage is a physical, energetic blockage.  These are usually sudden-onset conditions.  If one day you are performing just fine magically, and the next you wake up and you can’t feel any of your sixth senses, and you are not physically sick or particularly more stressed out than normal, you probably have a physical energetic blockage.

Ensure first that it’s an energetic blockage.  Perform a reading on yourself, check your energy centers, figure out how you’re feeling physically.  Meditation goes a long way here, as well as visualizing your energy moving through your body.  Does it seem to stop anywhere?  Likewise, do you feel extremely hopeless and drained energetically for no discernible, tangible reason (i.e. depression or a recent traumatic experience)?  Can you not even muster up the motivation to check yourself?  Then you probably have an energetic blockage.

Find an energy healer in physical proximity to you.  Trust me when I say that it is not enough to go to the local Hand & Stone and ask for a reiki massage (I have tried this for you already, and please believe me when I say it’s not going to solve your problems).  Distance healings do work and are worth it, but in my personal experience physical healings tend to be much more powerful when it comes to dismantling blockages in this way.

Ask around at your local metaphysical stores.  Find someone who is a reiki master or another type of energy healer, who has great reviews outside of what’s posted on their website and who has a great deal of experience.  Ask them if they have unedited testimonials anywhere they can share with you (such as Google reviews).  

Ask what their process is, ask to see their healing space, ask them what physical tools they use in their session.  Ask them if they’d be willing to charge a small fee for them to examine you and figure out what’s going on (don’t expect them to do something like that for free).  Remember that they should never suggest that they can heal physical ailments or claim that their services replace allopathic medicine - they should only focus on your energetic issues.  

Explain to them that you feel blocked energetically and that this is exactly what you are looking to be treated for - psychics and healers are not mind readers, and they cannot help you if they’re not told what they need to fix.  

Pay attention to your gut and what feels right.  Even in a blocked state, you always have decent access to your intuition.

I won’t lie, you will likely need to shell out a good amount of money for this.  A good healer worth their salt most likely won’t charge you less than $60 for an hour session.

If you don’t feel some kind of energetic release during your healing session, mention that to your healer.  Since you’ve already told them about your issue, they may be able to give advice as to why you didn’t feel any specific change, as everyone’s process is different and the healer you’ve chosen to work with is going to have the best understanding over the situation, after you.  Again, pay attention to your gut.  Give the healing a couple of days to set in, and make sure to drink plenty of water and pay attention to how you feel.

When I personally dealt with my own physical energy blockage, when it was finally healed it felt like a dam breaking and all of my energy flowing back into my body.  It felt like I had had one of my senses shut off, and for the switch to finally be turned back on.  Not everyone is going to feel this way, but if you’ve been blocked for a particularly long time, it may feel very strong and overwhelming to have yourself be un-blocked.

Whatever your situation is, I hope this post was helpful!  Good luck on finding your solution!

[jokerxreader]

INDISPUTABLE (Joker X Reader Part 8)

YOUR POV

You began shaking, more out of excitement than dread at the Joker’s promise to you. After all you had nothing left, Gordon had basically fired you and you had no idea where Harvey was, not that it really mattered to you. The only person that you knew would miss you if you decided to delve into the Jokers messed up universe was your mother, it made your heart ache to think about her and you resolved to call her as soon as you got to the new apartment that was meant to be safe from any Joker-related threat to your life.

The box of belongings felt like a tonne of bricks in your arms, all your hopes and dreams basically gone while the Joker was still at large as he seemed to be insistent on being a persistent threat to you and the people around you. For a second you felt the appropriate emotion of anger towards the man that was going to ruin your life in one way or another, but then thoughts of the way he held your head in place as he kissed you roughly and his other hand was left to roam your body invaded your thoughts and you could not deny that he knew what he was doing. You may even have admitted that you felt the tiniest of sparks but then you remembered that you were angry with him as he had not thought about what you might want and how much he was disrupting your plan for life.

You awkwardly balanced the box on your knee as you rummaged in you coat pockets for your apartment key, when you finally found it you sighed with relief and entered your apartment.

You could immediately sense that something was different as you walked down the corridor to the living room/kitchen. You tried to brush off this feeling as you reached your dining table and set the box of belongings down with a big sigh and a heavy heart.

“What’s upset you so doll?”

You spun around in shock at the husky voice that was coming from behind you, of course you found the Joker clad in his usual suit with curly that had been pushed back to many times that parts of hair stuck that way but the ends exploded in a curly mess around his neck. His face was serious as he studied you, for a moment you forgot that you were just scared shitless and that you were mad at him as you were trapped in his beauty.

“Doll?” he prompted as he inched closer to you and you instinctively stepped back.

“I was fired yesterday thanks to you coming after everyone I work with! You selfish son of a bitch! I had hopes and dreams and ambitions, in less than a month you have stripped me of it all” You did not realize how angry you really were until you had started talking about your job that you had wanted and loved very dearly. You did start to second guess your quick response as the Joker remained silent but kept on walking towards you, still observing, with a deadly serious expression written on his face.

“Now now,” he tutted as he cornered you against the table, “Everything I have been doing, I have done for you my dove. You have captivated me! Now why would you want to stay at a boring desk job where the work never ends because as soon as one criminal dies another takes their place when you can live with me, I can show you so many exciting things my little dove?” He bent his head down so that you could feel his hot breath on you neck as both of his strong arms trapped you as he gripped the table behind you.

“Do i not excite you little dove?” he purred into your neck making you whole body shiver and you craned your neck, allowing J more space, practically begging him to kiss you, touch you, anything He was driving you crazy. He chuckled and placed a light peck to the nape of your neck and then abruptly pulled away, you were no longer trapped but you missed his presence and felt slightly rejected by his movement.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden? Cat got your tongue kitten?” he smirked at you and you realized you had not spoken in a while.

“I’m angry at you, I don’t see why I should answer you” you pouted tying to cover up how he made your skin erupt in warmth and goose bumps every time he touched you. You turned away and looked into the box which contained the entirety of your short-liver career as a police officer.

“Cmon baby, did you get my rose? I kept my promise to you didn’t I?” he said, “I know you wanted me to” he whispered suddenly back in the crook of your neck which made you jump for the second time in 10 minutes.

You stiffened as you did not want to let him know the affect he had on you,         “I was not expecting you so soon” you mumbled.

Warm hands gripped your hips and you were spun around to face the Joker,  “Now how could any man resist such an enticing creature as you?” he purred as he again began to close the distance between you. You suddenly became self conscious about little you, you did not feel that you were as enticing as he made out.

“Come on J, be real with me” you mumbled, now not in the mood for his games as the weight of the day and you own self-doubt and hatred began to settle on you.

He growled and closed the distance between you, a hand buried itself in your hair as the other stayed firmly planted on your hips. He kissed you urgently and passionately and it was all you could do to keep up with his needy lips. He nipped your lower lip which made you moan and allowed his tongue access to you mouth. Your hands traveled up his clothed torso as the kiss deepened further. He lifted your legs and pushed you back so you were sat on top of the table and he was planted firmly between your legs. He pulled away, you both breathed heavily.

“You drive me insane baby. It is so good to hear my name come out of those sweet lips of yours” he hummed as he traced your bottom lip with a fingertip. You were too stunned to say anything, you had never been kissed like that before.

You placed your hands on either side of his face and he smiled brightly at you, something you had not seen from him yet and somehow it made you feel safe and happy despite your life having fallen apart.

“Are you going to say anything to me kitten?” he asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

“I’m still mad at you” you mumbled and he chuckled deeply, you could feel it vibrating in his chest.

“Well princess I am sorry to have been a part in making you upset. However if you would allow me, I would like to try and make it up to you?” he stared confidently into your eyes as of challenging you to say no. You mulled it over in your mind for a moment and eventually nodded in agreement. What was the worse that could happen?

You squealed as he grabbed your ass and lifted you from the table as you intuitively wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to your bedroom and laid you down, he hovered over you.

“You really are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen” he exclaimed making your blush and your heart race. You could sense that something was going to happen which would seal your fate forever and tie you to this glorious man looking down on you.

He ducked his head into you neck and began placing wet kisses down your neck and across your collar bone, he groaned as he quickly ran out of skin to assault with kisses. He went back to your neck and found your sweet spot which resulted in your back arching into his toned chest, he chucked and continued to suck and nip at this spot while he worked at bringing your shirt up your torso. He broke away from your neck to admire his work and smirk down at you and slip your shirt over your head. You were a whining mess, begging for more of his sweet kisses, yearning for the nips of his teeth against you soft skin that was sure to leave a mark.He went back down and started planting kisses down your chest as he worked on unfastening your bra.It popped open quickly which made you gasp and remove your hands from J’s soft hair to hold the bra to your chest and protect you dignity.

“My dove, put your hands down” he ordered with a warning tone, “or the beginning of my apology will be ruined”

You slowly took your hands away from your chest and he watched you with a smug look on his face as your bra slipped downwards with the movement of your arms, exposing your soft and full breasts to him. Once he was satisfied with what he saw he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping it and rolled the other between his fingers.

At this point you were a moaning writhing mess beneath him and you could tell he enjoyed it, You had lost all trains of thought and all you could focus on was the pleasure that his lovely mouth and skilled hands were providing you You were embarrassed at how aroused you felt, you knew you were wet for him, probably soaking your little panties which made you want to clamp your legs together but he had cleverly situated himself in between them.

In no time you felt the hand that was not on your nipple slide down your body and start to unbutton your pants. You moaned as he was taking too long and impatiently kicked them off making him bring his lips from your breast to laugh.

“What an egar little kitten I have here,” he took a moment to look down to your pussy and saw that your juices had soaked though the thin fabric. “Oh baby so wet, just for me? What is it you want me to do to you little Y/N?”

You gritted your teeth and sighed in frustration at the loss of contact and teasing, but all he did was look at you expectantly. You sighed, “I w-w-want ..”

But you were interrupted as he abruptly pushed your panties aside and inserted two of his long fingers inside of you and pumped them in and out a couple of time and them stopped eliciting a whine of sadness from you. You were so wound up that you shamelessly started to try and rock your hips against his fingers for any sense of euphoria you could manage. He let out a low laugh and pressed a hand on your stomach, stopping your attempts at pleasure. He slowly leaned over you until your faces were almost level.

“You need to answer my question princess, what would you like me to do?”

You were straining against his strong hands as he held you against the bed, you huffed in defeat and made solid eye contact with him.

“I want you to finger fuck me J, I want to scream your name as you make me cum with only your fingers and mouth baby” you whispered, half ashamed of the filth that was coming out of your mouth but also excited for what he was going to do next.

He hummed in satisfaction and began pumping his fingers again, you threw you head back in bliss as he watched you enjoying him. He slowly began to speed up his actions whilst adding another digit, he smirked at you and lowered his head to your throbbing pussy.

He hummed against you which sent sparks flying all the way through your body and suddenly he had started sucking and lapping up all the juices that were escaping you. He sucked on your sensitive clit and it sent you over the edge, your back arched and a low moan came from deep within you as you tightened around his fingers and rode out your orgasm on his face.

“I-I-I’m cumming” you shouted as you started shaking violently from the amount of pleasure you were feeling. You no longer had control of yourself as moans escaped you and your body quivered as J continued his assault on your pussy.

“Come on then baby girl, cum for me.” he encouraged against you which was all you needed to release.

“Oh my god J” you panted as he removed his finger from you and licked them clean while making eye contact.

“You taste as good as you look” he concluded, making you blush.

He laid down next to you and pulled you into his chest, “will you forgive me my dear?”

You were tired from your emotional day and the orgasm that had just shaken your whole body so all you could manage was a soft “maybe” as you drifted off into sleep.

[hedwigstalons]

Of Sorrows and Starlight

So I was doing a bit of fic admin and working out what had been uploaded where.  I’m pretty much up to date on AO3 now (we shall ignore how far behind I am with my ff.net account - that is a task for another day) but found a couple of fics written before I joined Tumblr that I thought I would share on here.

xoxoxox

Jeff sat alone in the dimly lit lounge, a glass in hand, contemplating the silence.  As the nearby clock chimed midnight he raised his glass and whispered “Happy birthday, Lucille”. 

He allowed himself a few moments of quiet introspection.  How many birthdays had he missed?  How many picnics by the creek with the birthday tea spread out on a blanket? Often busy working he had missed so many celebrations only to return home late for a saved slice of her favourite lemon birthday cake.  Sometimes he hadn’t even managed that, either being away with the Air Force, or on one memorable occasion off-planet.  She had always been so understanding.  Always been so forgiving.  There would be other birthdays.

 Except now there weren’t any more birthdays.  In the morning he and the boys would be facing the first one without her there. There would be lemon cake but no singing and no candles.

 Jeff returned his glass to the kitchen and crept quietly up the stairs.  He paused at each bedroom door to check on his sleeping children, listening to deep rhythmic breathing.  

 One.

 Two.

 Three.

 Four.

 Four?  One room was empty.  The bedroom curtains were drawn back to let in the night.  Unlike many parents on discovering that one of their children was missing Jeff didn’t panic, merely sighed and returned downstairs.

 He headed to the back door and stepped out onto the veranda.  The early summer night was still warm and the heady scent of lilacs filled the air.  The waning moon hung like curl of lemon rind near the horizon.  The cloudless sky glittered with countless pinpricks of light. He traced the familiar forms of Sagittarius and Libra and greeted them like old friends.

 Jeff stepped off the veranda and crossed the home paddock behind the house.  He didn’t need a torch to guide him on this familiar and well trodden path.  His destination was a small, shed-like structure at on the far side of the paddock; his own private observatory.

 He he drew nearer he could see that the sliding roof panel had been moved back giving the powerful telescope inside a clear view of the night sky.

 Jeff let himself into the small hut and smiled; his intuition proven right.  A small figure with blonde hair was asleep in the chair.

 Reluctant to wake the boy yet, Jeff took a look at what he had been working on.  Star charts littered the desk.  The dimly glowing screen of a tablet showed that his errant son had somehow managed to access the Space Agency databases.  He made a mental note to contact his former colleagues about their security levels which must be lacking if even a child could hack into their supposedly secure system.  The telescope itself was trained on an unremarkable patch of sky.  While the telescope might the be of considerably better quality that you would expect to find in a domestic set-up, through its lenses the field of view seemed almost devoid of stars.  He wondered what had drawn his son’s attention to that particular part of space.

 Jeff closed up the observatory roof to protect the precious telescope from the elements then bent down to pick up his son who stirred from the unexpected moment.  

 “Come on son.  Time to get you back to bed.  Do you think you can hang on to my back?”

 A small nod.  

 Carrying his son in a piggyback across the paddock they has barely gone half way when he felt the small figure start to shake.  A first he thought that perhaps the night felt cold through the thin pyjamas. Then, as a sniff was quickly followed by a sob the realisation hit that his son was crying.  There had been a lot of tears over the last few months but Jeff still felt at a loss with how to deal with them.  Lucille had been so much better at this sort of thing.  He carried on walking across the paddock towards the house.

 “I couldn’t do it, Dad.”

 “Couldn’t do what?”

 “I promised I’d discover a new star, just for her.  I promised it would be her birthday present.  I’ve looked so hard.  I’ve let her down.”

 So this explained the preoccupation with the dark of space.  The methodical checking and cross checking of every dot of light with the registers of that which was already known.  Unfortunately Jeff knew that, no matter how good his telescope was for a privately owned instrument, it was never going to compete against the resources of the Space Agency.

 “You haven’t let her down. She knows you have tried your hardest. Now it’s time to get some sleep.”

 They had reached the house by this point.  Jeff climbed quietly up the stairs for a second time, deposited his son into bed, and returned to his own room safe in the knowledge that there were now five heads on pillows across the landing.

 He reflected on the promise his son had made.  It was a seemingly impossible task.  Man had been watching the sky of centuries and been sending objects into space for nearly one hundred years.  The chances of one small boy with a telescope in Kansas finding anything new was remote. He wondered if his own silent promise to his wife and to the world would be any more successful.

 xoxoxox

 High above the earth, in a satellite in geostationary orbit, a young man with blonde hair stares through a telescope.  Normally the lenses are trained on some interesting astronomical body but at this time of year his gaze is increasing drawn to the darker areas of the universe.

 He absent-mindedly straightens the sash of his uniform; it’s lilac colour a permanent reminder of his mother’s favourite flowers.

 Gazing into the darkness his eye is drawn to a fresh glimmer of light, previously unseen in the vista of space.  Somewhere out there, unknown numbers of light years away, a star is born.

 He carefully plots the co-ordinates and enters them into the Space Agency database, registering the discovery forever more.  He knows he is likely to get a few querying emails from his former colleagues when they realise he can still get into the system but a quick excuse about his access rights not expiring should pacify them enough to deflect suspicion.  

 He settles back by the telescope the gaze at that tiny dot of light; so insignificant in many ways but to him it is the most important star in the universe.  The sign of a promise fulfilled after so many years.

 “Happy birthday, Mum” he whispers.

[bigskydreaming]

Biden does not have the nomination yet. It is not yet a matter of “a vote for Biden is a vote against Trump, anything else is a vote for Trump.”

And until it is, until either Sanders or Biden has all the delegates they need, peoples’ criticisms of Biden are absolutely relevant. And even should Biden GET the nomination, c’mon guys, there is STILL room to be aware of everything Biden IS and everything about him that needs OPPOSING, even WHILE still opposing Trump. This is not counter-intuitive....if you are against most of what Trump has done, because it is WRONG rather than it is just Trump who did it, and did it in obvious ways, then this is vital, I’d argue, because Biden isn’t going to address a lot of it once in the White House unless people DO keep in mind what is and isn’t likely to still be an issue in a Biden presidency.

This isn’t divisive, this is NECESSARY. If you can’t find a way to hold both truths in your mind: “Trump absolutely needs to be ousted, and opposed, and his works undone,” as well as “Biden has a long history of doing harm in his various seats, and he is the lesser of two evils ONLY in some respects and its important to know what those are because evil is still evil”....that’s something to WORK on, not just “Biden or bust.”

And to be clear, I’m not advocating for “Bernie or bust” either. I’m simply saying: This is all more complicated than accusing people of having brain worms for thinking “Guy who won’t expand health care as much” is the same as “Guy who is killing people.”

Let me be perfectly, 100% clear: If Biden gets the nomination, if it comes down to him or Trump, I am voting for Biden, hands down. But I will be doing so not thinking that Biden is in any way a more moral choice, but because I think the true danger of Trump is in him serving these past years as a rallying point for all the most vocal white supremacist and homophobic and misogynistic elements within our society, allowing them to feel emboldened and having no shame about expressing their hate openly. I think the true danger of Trump’s presidency is how little of it is actually Trump doing anything other than acting as a magnet that draws all focus and trains all eyes on him, even as his cabinet stocked to over-flowing with white-supremacists, antisemitic, homophobic and transphobic and eugenics-advocating assholes go about ACTIVELY advancing agendas of hate behind him while he serves as the catch-all for all opposition.

That absolutely needs to be opposed, and defeated, but fuck this self-defeating nonsense that this means the work will be OVER the second Trump is gone, whenever and however that happens. And I think for as much as people accuse some of us of doing the enemy’s work for them by sowing division and dividing our efforts and how this is doomed to be self-sabotaging and backfire on all of us, I think the same is true of saying things like the only real drawback to Biden is ‘doesn’t want to expand Health Care as much as Sanders whereas he’s otherwise not remotely comparable to Guy Who Is Killing People.”

Because BOTH ARE SELF-DEFEATING. Both set up only ONE THING as a goal or a focus that needs tackling and carries the implicit “and then we can rest” instead of holding up as a goal or focus that both need defeating or plenty of people are still going to die, as they’ve been dying all along.

If you’re going to go with the Devil You Know because he’s also the Lesser Evil of the two Devils You Know....

You still need to know who he is, and who he is is not just guy who won’t expand health care as much and claiming him to be such and nothing more is DANGEROUS.

Vote for Biden if it comes down to him and Trump, yes! But do so in a way that will let you get right back to work opposing all the shit HE prioritizes and stands for, every bit as much as you claim to oppose all the same with Trump!

Stop treating this as an impossible ask. It is not as simple as evil or not evil. It is as simple as making the choice that ensures most people survive....and then from there, actually ensuring that means that the most people survive. 

Which can only happen when you keep in mind how Biden will still be dangerous even once Trump is gone, and who will still need protection from him and his administration and policies, even once Trump’s are gone....and especially because there are a number of those policies that Biden, based on his own policies of the past, is not likely to prioritize or even be helpful in getting dismantled.

Any posts responding to this with anything remotely on the lines of “you’re encouraging people not to vote for Biden and thus helping Trump win” will be ignored the same way they ignore that THAT IS NOT WHAT THIS POST IS, OR SAYS, OR WANTS. I am not responsible for your inability to read what this post actually says, or your unwillingness to hold two not actually opposing viewpoints and priorities in your head at the same time. I am being as clear as I possibly can be on what I will be doing if Biden is the nominee, and why, and how none of that makes Biden’s worst flaws or history irrelevant or a distraction from Trump.

First off:

“Won’t expand healthcare that much” IS actively letting people die. GoFundMe’s biggest usage is trying to raise money for people whose health care isn’t keeping them alive and most of those goals are never actually met, and that’s literally killing people. 

Please be cognizant of what kind of people are most being killed this way. Ones who have the most trouble MEETING (often) impossible goals. The most marginalized members of society. 

If anyone is still framing the health care issue in their own heads as a matter of whether or not they can always pay for their own medical expenses, or will always be able to, please understand this disregards the many people who flat out can’t, and die every day as a result. Homeless people, people kicked out of their homes for being gay or trans or neurodivergent, not having access to quality health care for those reasons or turned away by the specialists they desperately need because the specialists’ only concerns are they can’t afford to pay. Ex-cons who are largely barred access to jobs with good medical benefits, and are largely barred access to the goodwill of random internet strangers willing to shell out some money of their own for their gofundme campaigns. And so on, and so on.

Absolutely the camps and detention facilities are a huge ongoing issue, but its a huge ongoing issue MOST being talked about throughout these entire past four years by a lot of the exact same leftists being accused of taking focus away from the very issues they are doing the most to highlight.

Now onto Biden specifically:

Are Biden’s positions on everything identical to Trump? No, but for starters, Biden wrote the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act, responsible for building more prisons, increasing prison sentences, deploying more cops, and increasing and furthering the exploitation of prison labor, etc.

He’s long been a major proponent of capital punishment, directly leading to the creation of over 60 new capital offenses including murder of federal law enforcement officers. And oh yeah, Biden also voted against limiting appeals and rejecting racial statistics in death penalty appeals.....which would be great if the vast majority of the new death penalty offenses he had a hand in creating - like the murder of police - haven’t been massively disproportionate in who they end up targeting and who ends up charged with and convicted of them: 

Like carjackings, acts of terrorism (just hardly ever acts of domestic terrorism aka the mass shootings of white supremacists, antisemites and disgruntled white guys), and the many drug-related offenses that stem from him being known for decades as a ‘drug warrior’ behind many leading efforts in the war on drugs.

Such as how in the 80s he was the head of the Senate Committee responsible for passing most of the most punitive measures against drug users, during the crack epidemic that was largely created to target and make scapegoats of lower class drug users and PoC, whom were at the time denoted as statistically more likely to use crack cocaine than powder cocaine....

And given that Biden himself sponsored and co-wrote the Anti-Drug Abuse Act which specifically and deliberately laid out hugely harsher penalties for crack cocaine use than were received for being convicted of using power cocaine.....aka a particular favorite past-time of rich white guys (including politicians and political staffers)....all during and throughout the crack epidemic Biden and his cohorts happily whipped up public moral outrage about....

This directly makes him and his political career an inciting element in the huge disparities in prison populations, all stemming from this drug warrior’s leading role in a war on drugs he helped get underway and become what it eventually became in the first place. (Please keep in mind he was famously critical of REAGAN for not being strongly enough anti-drug, as well as George H. W. Bush.)

Granted, Biden admitted his role in crafting and enforcing legislation that led to such huge disparities, at least by the time he was asked about such things in the debates of the 2007 Democratic primaries.

But to my knowledge, to this day he has yet to ever similarly walk back his role in things like oh, the Comprehensive Forfeiture Act in 1983. Which directly empowered and has steadily more and more further increased the power of drug enforcement agencies to seize assets of even just those charged with anything from drug possession to intent to distribute. Which in turn, almost always directly affects the ability of defendants to pay for their own defense instead of being limited to the representation of overworked and underpaid public defenders. Not to mention limits their ability to repeatedly avail themselves to the unlimited appeals Biden nominally has always been in favor for. 

Or there’s the Illicit Drug Anti-Proliferation Bill which was a bit of shady shitmanship that squeezed through thanks to being attached to an unvetted, unrelated and super fucking vague child protection bill that has often been criticized as overreaching in scope. And this IDAP Bill, despite its superficially stated intentions, has historically most often been used by DEA agents as an intimidation tactic wielded against drug-reform protestors at rallies and other such events.

Biden might never have openly had his support base chanting Build the Wall, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t vote for the Secure Fence Act of 2006, which partially funded the construction of 700 miles of fencing along the Mexican border. 

And his stance for over ten years about whether he’d allow sanctuary cities to ignore federal law has been a clear and concise NO, which y’know, given that’s kinda the whole point of sanctuary cities....and given that sanctuary cities have been absolutely CRUCIAL to even attempting to stave off the worst of Trump’s anti-immigration efforts, travel bans, etc.....this may not make him worse than Trump, but I fail to see that particular stance helping all that much even after Trump is gone. 

Because Biden might not have put the same efforts into motion as Trump has, had he been the one in office, but I do not for a second believe he will in ANY way make reversing or undoing some of them his priority. All of that is just as likely to be an uphill battle in a Biden presidency. His track record speaks to itself as to how much he’s likely to make anything like abolishing ICE or getting rid of the detention facilities his first order of business - or even second, third, or even tenth....UNLESS PEOPLE FORCE HIM TO MAKE IT THAT, INSTEAD OF JUST TRUSTING THAT HE WILL BECAUSE HE’S NOT TRUMP.

The caveat I have here is that Biden and his inner circle and support base are unlikely to ever be that visibly resistant to repealing Trump’s anti-immigration efforts, or that visibly in favor of what’s happened there, and he isn’t going to campaign on a platform of overt racism.....but that’s kinda the point. He’s never needed to, in order to still do a huge amount of damage to an untold number of lives over the decades, all while being able to claim to be nominally or superficially progressive and use that to advance his own career. 

Trump doesn’t care about hiding his racism....and Biden doesn’t try all that hard to either. But he’s always known he doesn’t really have to try all that hard....just to hide it just enough to claim it isn’t there and its nothing worth anyone worrying about or pushing back against. Plausible deniability - made all the easier and all the more plausible by having someone like Trump to point to and know just by doing so people will breathe a sigh of relief because whew, at least he’s not Trump. Not that this is likely a huge comfort to the people killed long before now, due to his prison policies, capital offense expansion, and war on drugs that happen to not be the right kind of drugs, or being snorted in the right form of those drugs, or snorted by the right people.

And putting a face and a claim to things that absolutely none of his actual efforts back up or are even aimed in the same direction as....this is something that extends to pretty much everything else about him. 

Yeah, he reversed his stance on voting for DADT and DOMA in years prior, when as Vice President he said he was totally fine with the idea of men marrying men and women marrying women and each enjoying all the same benefits and civil rights and liberties as anyone else. Course, that doesn’t actually reverse how he voted, nor did he actually have anything to do with striking down the results of his and others’ votes as unconstitutional.

And yeah, Biden drafted the Violence Against Women Act, which he’s famously called the most significant piece of legislation he’s crafted throughout his political career and the one he’s most proud of, citing it as the beginning of a ‘historic commitment to women and children victimized by domestic violence and sexual assault.’ Not that it helped Anita Hill that much, nor that he ever seemed all that interested in helping, believing or supporting her, despite whatever he may have claimed a couple years ago at the start of the #MeToo movement or around the Kavanaugh proceedings, when he stated he’d always believed Anita Hill and voted against Clarence Thomas.

(With Thomas of course still a member of the Supreme Court, alongside Kavanaugh now, thanks to Trump. And Thomas still being famously considered one of its most conservative justices. And still someone whose appointment to the Court might not ever have happened had not Biden - the chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee overseeing Thomas’ nomination to the court -  made the choice to never call forward four female witnesses who’d been waiting in the wings the whole time to testify on Hill’s behalf and speak to her credibility. With this decision of Biden’s only ever being described as the result of a ‘private, compromise deal between Republicans and then-Judiciary Committee Chair Joe Biden,’ after which all four other women’s testimony was deemed irrelevant, and thus a waste of the court’s time.

And sure, Biden as of just last year supports repealing the Hyde Amendment, that he’s only supported since as far back as ‘76. The Hyde Amendment, of course, blocks federal funding from being used to pay for an abortion except in the specific provision of an abortion being needed to save the woman’s life, or when the pregnancy is the result of incest or rape. Of course, even through all those decades that Biden did support the Hyde Amendment, he pretty famously never felt it went far enough, and thought it shouldn’t include a provision allowing for federal funds to be used to pay for an abortion that stemmed from incest or rape. But that doesn’t speak to his personality or priorities either, obviously, since he took it back (while preparing to hopefully run against pussy-grabbing Trump).

And Biden’s not as interested in giving billionaires tax cuts as Trump is, for instance, since he was always against even George W. Bush’s tax cuts for Americans who made more than one million dollars a year. He was always of the belief that this money should then be put in a dedicated Homeland Security and Public Safety Trust Fund, to invest specifically in increased law enforcement. Joey does love him some cops.

And Biden’s not quite as likely to go to war compared to how often Trump seems to have us poised on the brink of it. Biden only favored sending American troops to Darfur, is a self-described Zionist who has defended various acts of aggression by the Israeli army against Palestinians, and was of the opinion that the biggest problem with our involvement in the Syrian Civil War was that Europe didn’t trust we had a plan there.  

Of course, much like with numerous other stances, its not like there’s not plenty to point to as proof Biden’s invested in keeping us out of any international conflicts. For instance, he’s been a longterm advocate for ‘hard-headed diplomacy’ against Iran that included pushing for coordinated international sanctions against them...except then he voted against a measure to declare the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps a terrorist organization, said war with Iran wouldn’t just be a mistake, it’d be a disaster, and threatened to personally begin impeachment proceedings against George W. Bush if he attempted to start a war with Iran. This was in December of 2007. Course, then in September 2008, he said that the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps was a terrorist organization and that the Bush administration already had the power and right to declare them as such, soooo......hmm.

And Biden did vote against the first Gulf War in 1990. Then supported the use of force against Iraq in 1998 and expressed a commitment to taking down Hussein, even if it meant being in it for the long haul....which as Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in 2002, he ratified by voting to authorize war against Iraq, going on record as firmly believing that Hussein possessed chemical and biological weapons and was seeking nuclear weapons. 

Then again, in 2006, Biden did go on to say that the original authorization for going to war with Iraq had been a mistake that was due to Bush “using his congressional authority unwisely” (and that Biden had no role in unwisely helping him obtain), and that there were no stockpiled weapons in Iraq and likely never had been. 

Which Biden then followed up in 2008 by saying in his opinion the real mistake had been in labeling Iraq the focus of the War on Terror, instead of Afghanistan, which he believed was really the focus all along, and that we should leave Iraq....and shift our focus fully back there. Because see, the problem was the war in Iraq was a war of choice, whereas the war in Afghanistan was a war of necessity.

And he did have this to say in 2011 about getting involved in the conflict in Libya: "NATO got it right. In this case, America spent $2 billion and didn't lose a single life. This is more the prescription for how to deal with the world as we go forward than it has in the past."

Course, five years later in 2016, in an interview with Charlie Rose, Biden stated he was "strongly against going to Libya" due to the instability it would cause within the country. He said, "My question was, 'OK, tell me what happens.' He's gone. What happens? Doesn't the country disintegrate? What happens then? Doesn't it become a place where it becomes a petri dish for the growth of extremism? And it has."

And then there’s his stances on North Korea...and Russia...and Central America....and Cuba.....all of which can be summed up as “that’s Joe Biden’s hot take on this issue, tune back in next week where he plays devil’s advocate with himself and argues the exact opposite.”

So yeah, all of that and more is who Biden is and always has been. Do not buy into him being someone who has grown and changed, because he’s more recently said the right things - especially as opposed to Trump. Biden has ALWAYS said the right things for the time he’s saying them at.....and history has always shown him willing to say the exact opposite, as soon as its more to his advantage to change his tune to that instead.

He is not the lesser of two evils, IMO, he is just the less overt of two evils. But make no mistake.....I can not tell anyone what to do, nor am I trying to, ultimately, beyond just asking people to BE AWARE of things like this. I can only really tell you what I’m going to do, and if Biden gets the nomination, I AM going to vote for him, not just to get rid of Trump....but everyone Trump brought with him, and the way Trump’s spent four years assuring every hateful piece of shit in America that they are not alone in their hate, and they have presidential approval.

I am simply ALSO saying, at the same time, that I do believe that even a Biden presidency can help push back against this, by virtue of at least being the American people saying We Do Not Support Trump or Want Him Back in enough quantities as to shame at least some of the more hateful and cowardly elements of our society back into silence.....

But that even while doing so, it IMO will remain MORE CRUCIAL THAN EVER to keep in mind.....none of those people or their hate simply sprang into being when Trump took office. They were here all along, and just because BEFORE Trump many of them weren’t brave enough to be seen out of the shadows, doesn’t mean that politicians like Joe Biden haven’t seen them and been fine with them and even agreeing with them and catering to them in various ways all along. Its just, unlike Trump, Biden cares too much about being seen as doing and saying the right things, the progressive things, to do any of those dealings openly, speak to any of those elements directly. But that’s never meant he’s above dealing with them, or profiting from their support.

So elect Biden if that’s what we have to do, even if only because his desire to be seen as progressive is at least a lever to ply between him and such elements of our society, where no such lever exists between Trump and them at all.

But it needs to be remembered that such a lever is only as effective as WE MAKE USE OF IT, AND FORCE HIM TO CATER MORE TO ACTUAL PROGRESSIVE PUBLIC OPINION RATHER THAN ALLOW HIM THE TIME AND ENERGY TO BE TWO-FACED THE MOMENTS OUR BACKS ARE TURNED.

And that if we do not keep this in mind, the latter is very much something Biden will do, just as he has done it countless times before.

AND ALSO PLEASE KEEP IN MIND:

HE STILL IS NOT THE NOMINEE YET, AND UNTIL HE IS STOP TAKING IT FOR GRANTED.

There is a marked difference between preparing for less than your preferred scenarios, and taking for granted that you might as well go ahead and settle for them already.

Too much of the latter has too much to do with the current state of our country, SO WHAT IF WE STOPPED DOING IT.

[justjessame]

The Love of Two Hunters Chapter 2

TWO YEARS EARLIER~ SMALL LIBERAL ARTS COLLEGE

I was walking across the darkened campus, cursing myself for getting caught up in research that I’d been doing for a project that I was slowly becoming convinced would make a great building block toward my dissertation. My dad’s voice was as clear as a bell in my mind, ringing over and over about the monsters that lurk in darkness. It rang especially true since just today I’d noticed another newspaper alerting me and my fellow students of another girl’s death.

As if my father’s warnings were coming true in real time, I heard a scuffling coming from the darkness. The scuffling noise turned into groans, then growls, then a slick sound like when a person cuts into a head of fresh lettuce. I scrunched up my nose, and fighting Dad’s voice, I walked toward the sound. As I made it to the dark spot between the college bookstore and the science’s building, he staggered out. Covered in blood and some other kind of fluid, I nearly turned and ran, but he looked like he needed help.

I was torn for a split second, but then my need to help took over. I rushed forward and that’s when I noticed the blade in his hand. Shit, guess I was completely fucking wrong. He looked up from where he was bent over, and his eyes met mine. They were a warm honey color and I stopped breathing. He was older than me, I could see that even through the grime and blood on his face, and taller, but that wasn’t exactly a difficult characteristic to have opposite me. I glanced at the hand holding the blade and he realized why I stopped.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice was deep and low, and I felt the truth of his words. “I just,” he staggered again, and I realized he was hurt.

I regained my sense of purpose and rushed forward, hoping that my intuition was right about him, because dying before I finished, well anything would suck. I wasn’t entirely sure how I could help him, but I took his arm, the one not holding the blade and put it over my shoulder. I felt him groan again and sighed. “I’m not exactly the strongest person on campus, Mr.-” I stopped not knowing how to finish his name, but powered through my lack of knowledge. “But I can get you to the infirmary?”

“No,” another groan. “I’ll be fine, it just hit me in the ribs harder than I thought.” I glanced at his face, coated with blood. “Trust me, princess, the blood isn’t mine.” And he grinned at me, a dimple peeking through his stubbly face.

“OK.” I considered my options. I had an off-campus apartment, not far from the college. My dad insisted, since he didn’t trust dorms for some weird reason that he never explained, though I swore I heard something about ghosts, but who knew with him? “I live a few streets over,” I took a breath, “if you’d like to clean up, and then I can look at your ribs.”

He was leaning on me as little as he could, but I could feel his strength leaving him, bit by bit. “My truck is,” he pointed with the blade he still held in his hand. I looked to where he was pointing and saw it, half hidden under one of the willow trees in the nearby parking lot.

I nodded and started forward, happy that he was pulling most of his weight, even if he was listing a bit toward my side. “Um, I’m Parisa Allison.” I offered, thinking that at least we should be introduced. I felt him chuckle and stop as quickly as he started. Yep, his ribs were definitely bruised at least. “What? I think if I’m taking you home with me, you should at least know my name.”

“John Winchester.” He offered, as we drew nearer his truck. Fuck, I thought, looking at the height of it. I hoped he could manage getting himself up in it, because getting myself into the passenger side would be a struggle for me.

We got to the truck and he did something unexpected. He tossed me a set of keys from his pocket. “I hope you know how to drive, princess, because I don’t think I’m going to be much use right now.”

I struggled to get him to the passenger side, happy that unlocking the door wasn’t a fucking chore. The truck looked vaguely familiar, like one my dad had had at his place, but that couldn’t be. I was happy to watch him drag himself into the seat, and then I rounded the front and opened the driver’s door. Sighing, I basically had to launch myself into the damn thing. I hated it, and being short, and the entire ordeal, but I got behind the wheel. Now came the real problem. I couldn’t reach the damn pedals. Taking a second to get my bearings, and feeling around the seat, I finally found the adjustment lever. After a few tense moments when I thought I’d never get the fucking seat to move to where I needed it to, I finally relaxed. The pedals were at my tiptoes, but I could manage.

“Damn, princess,” John sighed next to me and I realized I’d had a captive audience to my struggle. “You’re fucking tiny, aren’t you?”

I chuckled and got the truck started. A few minutes later, we were at my apartment, and for not the first time I thanked God I’d gotten the ground floor. The entire ground floor of a Victorian house, that my dad had checked top to bottom, worried about drafts and cold spots. Tinkering with the light switches, and making sure there were no shorts. The man was a worrier. I parked on the street, my car still in its spot in the driveway. My upstairs neighbors had moved out after the winter semester, so I had the entire place to myself. Well, I would if I had the keys to the upstairs.

Rushing around the truck, I opened the door to offer any assistance he might need. The only thing he seemed to need was my shoulders. Easily done, and I was happy to see he left the knife in the truck. Up the front steps, which were shallow and managed without much groaning, I leaned him against the side of the house while I fished out my keys. Unlocking the multiple locks, seriously my dad was a security freak, I opened the door and flicked on the light inside, illuminating my entryway. I looped John’s arm back across my shoulders and helped him inside. And then I reversed the process.

It took a bit to get him into the guest bathroom, but I managed, and then we came to a stalemate.

“You have to take it off,” I said, pointing at his shirt, the only thing left on his top half. “I can’t see how bad your ribs are if they’re covered, Mr. Winchester.”

“John,” he bit out, glaring through his pain. “And unless you’re a doctor, princess, I don’t see why you have to look.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have to look because you won’t let me take you to see a DOCTOR, JOHN.” I snapped out his name and he smiled. He fucking smiled. Ugh. Fine, I thought, screw it. I stepped into his personal space, feeling him still where he was leaning against the counter. I moved my fingers to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it, realizing he wasn’t fighting because I shocked him, I kept yanking until I’d pulled it over his head. “There, was that so damn difficult?” I didn’t look up at his face, I was too busy studying the angry red splotch that covered his side. Red and turning purplish as I watched. Fuck. I bit my lip and whispered, “This might sting a bit,” as my fingers, as gently as possible, probed the area. He hissed and I bit my lip harder, I couldn’t feel any breaks, but he was going to be sore for a while. “I don’t think you have any broken ribs. But that’s going to hurt like a bitch for some time.” I suddenly noticed that he’d gone completely silent after the hiss, and keeping my fingers on his side, I looked up. Those honey colored eyes were so dark now that I nearly lost my breath.

Before I could wrap my head around the change in his eyes, he was lowering his head and then his lips brushed mine. His hands, which had been clutching the counter top behind him, raised to cup my face, as I sighed and gave his tongue the access he definitely wanted. Flicking it against my own, tempting me to join it in a dance, I smiled and complied. My hands found his waist and I moved closer, fully in his space now, but he didn’t seem to mind. Sliding my hands up his bare back, to his neck, I felt him moan into my mouth at the touch. My eyes closed, our mouths locked together, I nipped his bottom lip and he groaned. Fuck, he was injured and here I was mauling him. I pulled my lips from his, but he wouldn’t let me go far.

“Are you-did I,” I felt him chuckle, and while it was low and deep, it didn’t last long. He sucked in a breath and I nodded. “You’re injured, for fuck’s sake.” I pulled away from him and he was smiling down at me.

“Pretty sure I totally forgot my ribs, baby girl.” His hands were tugging at the belt loops on my jeans, trying to pull me back, but I was trying to stand firm. “Shit, are you-did I,”

It was my turn to grin. “I want to, trust me, I want to.” Reading his fear loud and clear. “But you’re hurt.” I pointed at his ribs, and the face that we hadn’t gotten around to cleaning. “And covered in blood and something else.” I struggled to make sense of the other muck.

“Then why don’t we,” he glanced at the shower behind me. “Clean me up?”

I closed my eyes, he was incorrigible. Fucking incorrigible. And I wasn’t going to be able to resist him, damn it. “Fine.” I opened my eyes to his smile. “Fine. We’ll get you cleaned up.” I licked my lip and saw his attention focus on my mouth. “Let me grab you something to wear, after your shower.”

I started to turn, but his hands stopped me, pulling me back into his chest. “Our shower. And if you live alone, I think I’ll be alright until morning.” Shit. I had to fight back a moan. Why did I have to find him? Tall, dark, and manly. My type. To a T. Fuck.

I felt his fingers slide down to my shirt hem, tugging it experimentally, seeing if it was alright. I shook my head, and my hands joined his, pulling it off my body. His fingers were calloused, and they felt amazing running down my arms and back up and over my shoulders. Then down my spine until they found the clasp of my bra. A flick and it was open, a shrug of my shoulders and it joined my shirt. Then his lips were on the back of my neck and I was done for, my hips rocked back into his and I felt his smile at my nape. His fingers, still roaming my skin like he was on a treasure hunt, found the front of my jeans, the button was opened and the zipper down before I could fully comprehend it. I kicked off my shoes and shimmied out of the denim. Left in my panties, I turned, forcing his mouth from where he’d been sampling the skin where my shoulder met my neck.

I let my fingers slide across his stomach, careful of the red splotch, down to his belt. I worked as quickly as he had, his eyes never leaving mine. Soon, I was sliding down with his pants, taking care to remove his boots and giving him time to steady himself after pulling the jeans from each foot. Wearing only his boxers, I looked up at the impressive tent he’d formed. I heard him moan, and knew he liked the picture he was seeing. Me, on my knees, looking up at him. Maybe later. He needed a shower and I wanted to make sure he was taken care of, medically speaking, of course.

I rose to my feet, and keeping my eyes on his, I slipped my panties off. Tossing them onto the growing pile of our clothes. My hands went to his boxers, and I smiled at him as I repeated the route I’d taken with his jeans. “Wait here.” I ordered, turning and opening the shower door. Adjusting the temperature of the water, I turned back to see him studying me intently. “I don’t want it to be too hot or too cold, do I?”

The steam was starting to gather as I took his hand and pulled him in as I walked backward into the water stream. I turned, forcing him to turn as well, so he was full under the flow. I watched as the grime and blood ran down his face, and picked up a washcloth I kept stocked for unexpected guests. Using the soap that was always waiting, just in case, I lathered the cotton and then raised my hand to wash his face. Careful of his eyes, but making sure every speck of blood and who knew what was gone. I sat it aside, and grabbed the shampoo, washing his hair as carefully. Then, once the shampoo was rinsed away, I took back up the washcloth and took care that every inch of John Winchester was put back in pristine order. Always careful of his wound, always careful of the one part of him that he surely wanted the most attention for, I lathered him up and rinsed him off.

I was shocked at how much restraint he showed. I could see his fists clench every now and then, but he kept his hands to himself. Up until I deemed him clean, and then, whether the warm water or my ministrations helped his pain, he let go. His hands pulled me tight against him, his hardness flush against my stomach. His lips found mine again, and he swallowed the moan that would have been indecent in any other setting. Our mouths feasted on one another, our hands touching and teasing. Until finally, neither of us could wait. The water, still warm, rushed over us as he gripped me in his arms and pressed me against the tile wall. And then he was inside of me, and he was everywhere. His mouth and tongue on my throat, his hands on my hips, and I was so full of John Winchester that I thought I’d never be the same.

And boy was I right.

[myeongchokrp]

Classical music, long ball gowns and freshly ironed suits— Yeongi’s very own Daengom, a stunning venue for only the richest of weddings and social events, is full to the brim with guests. Invite-only and the event of the year, shopping tycoon Lee Yeonseok’s winter ball has started only a mere hour ago. Despite the weather, much of the tables and dance ( ballroom only, please! ) areas are outside, under a faux sky of twinkling lights. Untouched until dinner, each table is dressed in a crisp white cloth, bouquets upon bouquets of beautiful white and cream flowers and if one didn’t know of the Winter Wonderland theme, it’d be easy to mistake the scene for a late night wedding reception. The only difference is the money. 

Inside where his guests currently mingle, the walls are covered with loaned paintings from the art gallery within the Museum of Myeongcho, as well as some of Lee’s private collection. Guards stand in each corridor, in the corner of each room. But what lurks doesn’t mingle amongst the guests— not in numbers, anyway. 

TW DEATH, BOMBING

As the night gets under way, champagne sipped gingerly from tall glasses, Hydrus lingers below ground, coordinating via a sophisticated, impenetrable communication system, in-ears invisible to anyone not directly looking for them. They’re in position, waiting for the clock to strike nine. Lee takes the ‘stage’ just before the hour, clinking his spoon gently against his glass to gather the attention of his star studded guests. Celebrities from the mainland, local heroes, CEOs, even known gang members— anyone who’s anyone on Myeongcho is stood together in a crowd before him. Lee smiles at all the people he will sometime soon use for his own benefit and begins his speech. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight.” He draws in a deep breath. “Welcome to my annual Winter Ball, which the Daengom is kindly hosting for us tonight.” His audience claps quietly. “Thank you, thank you. Now, I’m sure you all know this has been a long, difficult year for our dear island. Riots, public executions, growing crime rates across the board, attacks to our very own...” He offers a sympathetic smile to MPD Lieutenant Yoo Sihyun who dips his head in return. “In the coming year, we will work together to—” As he raises his glass to propose a toast with his magnificent act of selflessness, the lights cut out. Plunged into the darkness, feet rushing across the floor— some to protect Lee, some in an attempt to restore power, some knowing what is coming next— no one feels the rumble of the floor until it’s too late. 

First, the exits fill with rubble. Then, the ceiling cracks. Smoke fills the room. It’s a bomb! They shout. No! It’s more! Two, three, four, maybe. It’s hard to tell amongst the screams of pain, agony, fear. Will you make it out alive? 

WELCOME TO MI’S NEWEST EVENT, MI:BLACKOUT !

This post marks the beginning of our newest event — we hope you’re as excited as we are! 

IC, Lee’s Annual Winter Ball begins at 8 PM on Saturday, December 21st, 2019. The power cuts out just before 9 PM, and a minute or so later, the first bomb of five goes off below the venue. Due to the power cut, Hydrus members coordinating the attack under the event could not communicate and the bomb was set off with Hydrus members still above ground and in the tunnels. 

OOC, this event lasts until midnight at the end of Saturday, January 18th, 2020.

HYDRUS, consider this a mission at the very least derailed. Your own members are caught in the crossfire and whilst the serpents don’t usually concern themselves over friendly fire, this complication runs much deeper than a few lost teammates. Your attempt to kill the shopping tycoon and various other high profile names in a continued effort to rebuild your reputation has been turned on its head. Your targets are trapped as you wanted, but can you finish the job? 

LYNX, congratulations on unknowingly making life that little bit harder for Hydrus. You’ve successfully cut out all communications and power across the island — at least for a little while. Unlike Hydrus, however, your targets aren’t living. How much easier is it to steal something with no security alarms? In teams, members of Lynx will advance on various goldmines for valuables — the temporarily closed Museum of Myeongcho, Sunrise Star Hotel, the MPD’s various armouries, confidential files in Myeongcho’s largest organisations. Take what you can, but don’t forget to stay alive. Security officers don’t go home just because the power is out! If you’re on the inside, however… Bad luck on missing out on all the fun! Or are you? 

Those on the inside from COLUMBA, PHOENIX and CORVUS, what’s more important: your loyalty or your life? Do you save your fellow members? Or all citizens to keep your allegiance hidden? Do you try to find a way out and leave everyone behind? Can you get to the bottom of this? Or do you take advantage of this opportunity? There’s so much wealth in this room, after all…

MPD, how fast can you really react to something you don’t know about? No calls can come in or out, you’re scrambling to find the source of the island-wide blackout… Unless you’re at the event, it’s likely your attention is elsewhere. Those guests will be fine by themselves, anyway… Right?

To summarise, Lynx and Hydrus have unknowingly planned separate attacks on the same night. Lynx just slightly beating out Hydrus has derailed the latter’s bombing of shopping business tycoon Lee Yeonseok’s Annual Winter Ball, leaving many wealthy names, as well as many of our beloved muses, trapped inside fighting for their lives. The blackout took out all power across the island, including phone reception towers and internet access, meaning there’ll be no way to contact one another for at least twenty minutes whilst teams work to restore power to, at the very least, phone towers. After forty minutes, power will come back on. The Daengom will remain in darkness thanks to the destruction caused by the bombs but mobile phones will regain signal when phone towers are restored regardless. 

The above descriptions for each gang are just guidelines! Whether or not your muse is at the Winter Ball or working on the outside in some way is completely up to you! 

Muses may have gained access to the Winter Ball through invite, being someone’s plus one, hacking the guest list, etc. If you can’t think of a realistic reason for your muse to be present but would like one, feel free to message us!

To earn +5 points, write a four-post thread or 200+ solo about any part of the event. Any thread about the ball, blackout, bombings, actions elsewhere as a result of the attacks or any aftermath will count! 

To earn +5 points, write a four-post thread with a muse you have never written with before about any part of the event. If you’re not sure where to start with ideas for plots, keep reading below this OOC information…!

As always, for threads and solos to count for points, they must be posted before the deadline. You can write as many threads and solos as you’d like, but you can only claim points for one thread/solo for each set of points. 

Don’t forget to tag all your event-related posts with this event’s tag mi:blackout and most importantly, have fun! If you have any questions or feedback, please feel free to message the main or Admins Gyu & Woo directly. We hope you enjoy this event! 

CLAIMABLE PLOTS

The following are set plots and roles within the event for you to claim for your muses should you choose! These are all optional; you do not need to claim any of these to participate in the event. These plots and positions are for helping guide the event’s progression and offer ideas for development and plots if needed. To claim a plot, simply message us with the letter code and the muse you’d like to have that role within the event and we’ll update the post as soon as we see it! We hope this will connect you to new muns you may not have otherwise gotten the chance to plot with, and give you unique development for your muses! Please let us know if you like this idea for events. Your feedback will help us plot and structure future events! 

You, SONG SEOAH, have been assisting with first aiders such as LEE HYUNWOO since the explosions stopped. Paramedics are on their way, but for many present, that may be too late. Your bravery and intuition hasn’t gone unnoticed by others and following the release of all those trapped inside, you’re recruited for Columba by KIM TAEHYUNG for your tenacity. They won’t be the only ones watching, though, local hero. NOTE: This is an opportunity to get your muse recruited by Columba and requires no further point cost or reward solo to change your muse’s affiliation. 

Hydrus member Muse D had been mingling amongst the guests listening to Lee’s speech when the power went out. Alarmed, they’d tried desperately to get in touch with other members but with no signal and no power, it’s impossible. You connect eyes with Muse E ( Hydrus ) across the crowd and gravitate to one another for safety. After all, you were only supposed to keep an eye out and give the signal before making your escape. You weren’t supposed to get caught in the crossfire. 

JEON JEONGGUK is fascinated by this power outage and the moment you regain signal, you begin to delve into finding the source. Along the way, you find SON HYEJOO a fellow hacker who may or may not be part of the team that took the island down… 

Muse H ( Lynx ) is one of the coordinators or seniors on the attack against the Museum of Myeongcho. Muse I ( Lynx ) is one of the most inexperienced on the job. Eager to impress as they may be, this is a rather large first step. Can you work together to get the job done? 

KIM MINJI and PARK SUNGKI are trapped inside the Daengom with no power, no first aid kits and PARK SUNGKI unable to walk on their injured ankle. They won’t die from the injury, of course, but it’s not like they can get out by themselves before the rest of the building collapses. Will KIM MINJI help them, or does their loyalty not extend to outside of their gang? 

Muse L is out in the streets when everything descends into darkness. Luckily, a reporter is there to ask them a hundred questions! Buckle in, Muse L, because you’re not going anywhere until they get all the answers they’re looking for. NOTE: This prompt is in the format of a submit from the main and will likely take a couple days to get to you due to the holiday season.

[mentalwise]

Orthorexia - Infos

Orthorexia: If Healthy Eating Masks an Eating Disorder

Why healthy eating can mask an eating disorder

One of my readers asked me to write an article about Orthorexia. So I'm starting the new year with my maybe most important text, yet.

Orthorexia, when healthy eating turns into an eating disorder.

It might be a little bit frightening to find out what could happen if you go too far with what´s supposed to be healthy.

Before I go into the topic, I would like to point out that this is not going to be an anti-healthy eating article! “Healthy” eating and an attentive, mindful lifestyle are crucial. I am against antibiotics in animal feasts, and eating fast food every day is definitely not beneficial for our health. It is not a good idea to “indulge” the media instead of actively living your life. Eat balanced, get all nutrients your body and soul need, but: food is food; it´s for nourishing your bodies, not for coping issues. Healthy eating is not only about what we choose to eat. It is also how we think about nutrition and our bodies. An unrestricted attitude towards food means finding a balance that satisfies our physical and emotional needs.

Unrestricted eating means eating consciously and yet, let food be just food.

Those who feel the need to constantly check their intake, because it might contain something that is supposedly "harmful," those who react with unpleasant emotions, fear, evasive reactions, feelings of guilt and with the urge to compensate as soon as something does not comply with the self-imposed rules, should be alert. Then something goes wrong!

Orthorexia nervosa has only been known since 1997. The physician Dr. Steven Bratman, who according to his own words, suffered from this disorder, coined this term. Orthorexic behavior can be the beginning of an eating disorder career. This article is intended to raise awareness of this disorder and is, therefore, important prevention.

🔗 Orthorexia and anorexia have something in common.

The biological reactions, which we can´t control, can also lead to binge eating or bulimia. Orthorexia comes in any sex, size, and age. Children show orthorexic traits as they are forced into their orthorexic parent´s patterns.

The onset of orthorexia is apparently harmless and almost always goes unnoticed. However, the course of the disease steadily worsens and often leads to a long period of physical and psychological suffering.

In our western world, food is always available and we are bombarded with all the different messages about what and what not we should do or eat.

The worst, most harmful and, above all, most false of all proclamations is that we can no longer trust our bodies!

In fact, it's not our bodies that are failing. It is our thoughts and emotions that cause us to subordinate our intuition and knowledge to false beliefs, to messages that manipulate our brains, and hit our biggest fears.

What should nourish our bodies and our souls becomes one of the most significant stress factors, hidden and unnoticed under the mask of an apparently healthy lifestyle.

People with orthorexia always strive for the perfect diet, the absolute way of living, which is controllable and thus defeats all fears and inadequacies. Orthorexia does not focus on appearance or weight, although weight loss and malnutrition are common consequences. The primary goal is to cleanse and keep the self and the body pure.

"Food, no matter how pure, cannot fill the space in your soul that longs for love and spiritual experience. If you are trying to use it for this purpose, you may have gone astray on your journey." S. Bratman

In fact, it is about control. A need for control that attaches itself to food. Later, it usually comes to excessive exercising and other compulsive behaviors. Good is never good enough.

Control leads to obsession, and obsession is cumulative: a little less fat becomes no fat. A little less sugar becomes no sugar. Less coffee becomes no coffee, fewer carbohydrates become no carbohydrates, and eating less from time to time, becomes several days of water fasting.

Exercising a little bit more turns into an obsession with sports, and a healthy lifestyle turns into orthorexia. Obsession with food becomes a masked identity.

These patterns influence not only the lives of those affected, but often also those of their fellow human beings. In contrast to anorexia and other eating disorders, Orthorexia is not a hidden illness. Those affected feel the urge to carry their convictions into the world. All those who do not comply with them get instructed, corrected, and, worst case, excluded. Anyone who does not follow their instructions is perceived as a threat. In the end, they are only around people who live according to the same rigid rules. This is why orthorexia is well camouflaged in groups. Everybody or no one. All or nothing. People in these groups convince each other that symptoms have different reasons than their diet. They prevent each other from leaving this path by addressing the fundamental fear that promotes this disease: Not being good enough. This is why even those who already show apparent symptoms do not notice that something is going incredibly wrong. This makes diagnosis difficult and a cure inaccessible for many.

What people with eating disorders have in common is that they don´t recognize that what they are doing is hurting them. Eating disorders are not logical. They are not accessible to reasonable arguments. So it is, therefore, all the more important that we not only keep an attentive eye on our own thoughts and actions but also on those of our fellow human beings.

How can orthorexia be recognized?

The eating habits of people with orthorexia are beyond reasonable and balanced.

Whole food groups are avoided. Nothing is eaten that is produced in a certain way. There is an official or unofficial list of foods that must not be ingested. All members of the family must adhere to this dogma. The more the disease progresses, the more the food choices are being limited.

Other habits

For example, food may only be prepared in a certain way with certain spices. Eat only warm food. Or it may no longer be eaten in the evening. There must be no more frying. It must not be eaten before noon or only once a day... etc.

Exercising

Exercising moderately slowly becomes an obsession with sport. They must work out a certain number of hours. They have to run x km, stopping before reaching their goals is perceived as a failure. The must workout every on Monday or every day. Even rain, cold, pain, and fatigue are no longer considered reasons to literally slow down.

Other compulsions

Any kind of compulsive behavior can follow orthorexia.

Constantly thinking about nutrition

Orthorexics are occupied with their diet, always looking for the perfect solution. They keep counting micro- and macronutrients until the brain becomes a nutrition table and the subject dominates every conversation.

Fear of eating food prepared by others.

If people with orthorexia can´t control the ingredients of their food, they avoid eating, or they feel guilty or afraid of being poisoned or damaged if avoidance is not possible. They are compensating with for example 🔗cleansing. It gives them the feeling to regain control. Fasting before an event or a meal that is not prepared like they need it to be ready is also quite common.

Criticizing others for their diet and lifestyle

As said, people with orthorexia consider their rules to be generally valid and expect their environment to fit in. Orthorexic people not only control their own intake, but they also try to control their fellow human beings. The others should confirm the correctness of their behavior by doing the same. If they refuse to obey, they are shunned.

Other physical and psychological symptoms:

Frequent or intensified headaches/migraines, brain fog, concentration problems

🔗 The brain needs carbohydrates because it can live almost exclusively on them. Our neuronal functions depend on a stable glucose level. Our brain needs 60% of the body's blood sugar to maintain its functions. If it can´t keep this level because of malnutrition, it first empties the stores in the liver, but they are also limited. Muscle substance is then broken down and at last, the fat stores.

When this happens, the liver converts the body fat into so-called ketones. It is not yet clear what ketones do in the long term in the brain and body. We know from studies with anorexia patients that a brain in a state of hunger, i.e. in ketosis, loses a massive amount of its functionality.

Unfortunately, the 🔗ketogenic diet is very popular. In fact, this is pseudo-science. There are only a few medical reasons for a massive reduction of Carbs.

Mood swings and depressions

Too little intake of carbs has a negative influence on serotonin, a hormone we need for our mood regulation. Depression might be a side effect of not eating enough carbs.

Hypersomnia

The body needs carbohydrates to produce tryptophan. We need this substance for healthy sleep; otherwise, we feel tired during the day, we don´t have any energy and we are in a bad mood. Sleeping saves energy, so our brain sends us into  🔗 hibernation.

Low energy level

We need all the nutrients we can get to keep our body functioning, even when we do nothing at all. The more we move (or think 😉), the more nutrients we need. Protein, carbohydrates, and fats are essential to store and deliver energy if required.

Isolation

Those who are afraid of other peoples food avoid social interactions, because they are often associated with food. Some orthorexic patients only meet with their peers, which reinforces the feeling of doing everything right and fixates the disease. The can feel a massive fear of being excluded from the group.

Bad breath

Bad breath occurs when the liver breaks down fat cells, i.e. when the carbohydrate intake is too low. The breath then smells like acetone.

Digestive problems (diarrhea, constipation or both)

Too much raw food, too many grains, too many seeds (chia and co.) is usually not easy to handle for the gut, and the biome needs carbs.

Irregular or painful menstrual cycle or no cycle at all/ erectile dysfunction in men

A sufficient supply of fat and carbohydrates is necessary to ensure and stabilize hormone pro-duction (sex hormones and others) in both men and women.

Weight loss

This is the highest risk that orthorexia turns into anorexia. At any age and for any sex! Affected people often eat large quantities of food and still stay thin. This is because what they eat usually has a very low energy density, i.e., few calories. In fact, they typically eat far less than they need, or they fast regularly to make up for their "nutritional sins." In case of genetic predisposition, this behavior plus malnutrition could cause anorexia.

Cravings and binge eating as a biological response

Our body is always striving to maintain its balance. We get cravings and eat huge amounts of our forbidden food. If we compensate (fasting with intestinal cleansing, vomiting or excessive exercise), this can lead to bulimia or anorexia of the binge/purge type. This is often the onset of the binge-purge-cycle. The metabolism turns down from restriction, weight gain is the result. This is another reason to fast or restrict.

Reduced bone density, even at a normal weight, even in men.

If carbohydrates are not available, the body extracts calcium from the bones to fight acidosis. Fatigue fractures are often the first signs

Muscle pain and tendon injuries

Muscles need protein and carbohydrates for proper functioning.

They break down when they are deficient in nutrients, injuries no longer heal and tendons can tear especially if doing sports in a malnourished body (=RED-S relative energy deficit in sports.)

(Pseudo)food intolerances

🔗"When food intolerances appear and the patient has an eating disorder, then the primary reason for failing to tolerate these foods will be too little energy within the body available to produce adequate amounts of digestive enzymes.

The more you cut out, the less you can digest properly. The less you can digest properly, the more you cut out. It's a vicious cycle that keeps orthorexia alive. Pseudo intolerances can always heal, but it is a long and painful process that requires consistency.

🔗Carbs, 🔗Protein and 🔗Fat are essential.

I´ve just told you a lot about carbs.

Protein another macronutrient is necessary for the production of enzymes, it s needed for the healing-, growing- and functioning processes of all organs and all body tissues and for the supply of energy when carbohydrates are not available.

Fats provide energy, protects our organs, maintains constant body temperature, helps with hormone production and cell growth. It keeps the insulin metabolism stable and makes some of the vitamins available for the organism.

In addition to macronutrients, micronutrients, i.e. vitamins and trace elements, are also vital for our organism in certain quantities and compositions. We cannot really do without any food component without causing long-term damage to our bodies, as even the most effective compensation possibilities are limited! Depending on the nutritional status and stage, the same problems occur with orthorexia as with all other restrictive eating disorders, sometimes even more so, as they go unnoticed for too long or are classified as a "fluff" by those affected, because: Neither shall it be.

Who is mainly at risk for orthorexia?

Orthorexia has not yet been sufficiently researched. However, it seems that genetics plays a rather subordinate role here. Orthorexia is mainly about false beliefs and compulsive behavior.

Obsessive self-control, self-observation, and self-optimization are the main goal.

The behavior that leads to orthorexia often occurs immediately after a stressful, frightening event that gives the feeling of no longer being able to make decisions. Illnesses, separations, loss of a job, the death or serious illness of a relative are massive triggers. Certain sports, such as bodybuilding, ballet or martial arts, which require special dietary habits, are considered to be the starting point for this disease. Even people who are professionally concerned with health and nutrition and the consequences of a less than optimal lifestyle are in some ways more at risk than the average.

Personality traits, that promote this eating disorder:

Perfectionist people who do not allow themselves to make mistakes are particularly at risk

People with low self-esteem, low self-esteem, and negative self-image

People who are very determined

People who set no limits, not even to themselves

People who tend to exaggerate

People who are prone to compulsive behavior

Anxious personalities

And highly sensitive people who think a lot about life, themselves and their fellow human beings.

Orthorexia, like other eating disorders, is also a bio-psycho-social disease.

Conclusion:

IMPORTANT:

Life circumstances, physical reactions, and personality traits interact in a way that triggers and sustains this disease. Not everyone who maintains healthy nutrition and a mindful lifestyle is at risk. Not all vegans have orthorexia, and even fasting from time to time is not necessarily harmful if the thought behind it, the intention, is not about compensations.

If you find yourself in these descriptions, whether in most of the symptoms or just in tendencies, see the red flag and/or get help if you can't do it alone.

Eating disorders are treatable and they are nothing to be ashamed of. Not even if you are a man, or adult, or working in a profession where such a problem could almost be a violation of honor.

Turn to someone you trust and who is not in these pseudo-healthy patterns. This can be your best friend, or your partner, if not affected him/herself. If you don't want to open up to your loved ones, go to a doctor, or psychologist/psychotherapist specialized in eating disorders. Don't wait until the illness is stronger than you are.

If you know someone who is behaving as if he or she could have orthorexia, talk to them carefully and offer your help. Don't be discouraged if the person denies his problems. The most important thing is that these people know that they are not alone. Keep in mind that orthorexia is often seen in groups and family structures. To break free then takes even more courage and willpower. They will come if they are ready, even if it might take some time!

I put some links to sites of eating disorder coaches below the text.  Unfortunately, I don´t have addresses from German ED Coaches but if you know someone, please contact me.  Whenever you need my advice or support, feel free to email me😉Life is for living, not for counting nutrients.

🔗Links:Video:

Kayla's Story

Steve Bratman

Orthorexia Self Test. The information on his site has not been updated since 2017.

Elisa, Recovery Coach

She was herself affected by orthorexia and other eating disorders. She does online coaching and puts many videos on YouTube. She is a very nice, affectionate and non-judgmental person you can trust in any case.

Kayla Rose is my favorite for everything about and around eating disorders

At Seven Health you will find excellent advice and podcasts (real health radio) on all topics of eating behavior and nutrition. Coaching is also available.

Becky Freestone, Co-founder of the Triple- R- Recovery- Center, Info, YouTube and Coaching

[brightlotusmoon]

Ohh. Physical therapy was intense, I worked my ass off. And my core. Lots of balance exercises. Dead Bug and Breathing Cat, which as it turns out are amazing for ADHD concentration. Two sets of ten: Lying on my back knees up but not too much , arms up straight. And on my hands and knees, knees and hips aligned, breathing through the stomach, just breathing. My thoughts swirled all over the place and just kept centering on keeping my breaths even and my abs tight. I was able to imagine an entire fiction scene while concentrating on my core. Even when the PT gently nudged my limbs during Dead Bug to check muscle strength.

I like this way more than yoga, which is probably the same family of exercises with different names and purposes but tends to make my mind wander.

No wonder Michelangelo gets bored with traditional meditation. I need to write a ficlet where he does an ADHD style meditation. Wait, I did. I really should write more details, though...

***

Automatically, Leo shuts his eyes, waits for the warmth and glow of meditation to start pulling him toward the astral plane. Something itches against his personal space field. Someone is humming. Leo cannot help but twitch.

Why is Mikey humming?

"Mikey," he hisses, "meditation is supposed to be quiet!"

A pause.

"Leo!" Mikey hisses back, a smile in his voice, "no it isn't!"

He opens his eyes and frowns.

His littlest brother is inches from his face now, crouched casually, huge eyes wide and sparkling. He is grinning.

"There's this thing, Leo," he says lightly, and pokes Leo's nose. "See, there's this thing about every person doing something to the best of their own ability, no one way, no right way, no wrong way. Meditation is a thing like that."

Frowning harder, Leo huffs and leans his head away. "See, this is why you never reach the astral plane when we meditate together. I hear you fall asleep all the time."

"That's because it's boring. I can't help it. I put on a show because I have to." Mikey's head tilts, like a bird's. "When I'm alone, I don't have to play a part. That's the best part of being alone."

Leo blinks. What part? Mikey's acting is always hammy. He huffs again and murmurs, "Just get back to meditating."

"You asked me to help you learn how I know stuff, bro. I can't do it like that."

Leo opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. Mikey has had attention problems his entire life, and now with access to the internet they know it's ADHD and learning disabilities. He cannot criticize a disability. But he can criticize a follow-through on a project. "Mikey, you must learn to rein in all your energy and extroversion, use it to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. In meditation, you-"

"Focus on breathing, focus on reaching a higher plane of thought, yada yada yada," and Mikey hold up a hand and pretends it is a puppet mouth. "I can do that, Leo, seriously, I can. Just…I can't do it your way. And you need to realize that. You can't force it. You need to go with the flow."

"My flow is perfectly fine-tuned and balanced and on a steady path," Leo replies, eyes narrowed. "Yours goes all over the place, like your fighting style. While that is great in battle to disorient the opponent, in traditional medita-"

"Shit, Leo, are your ears working? I. Can't. Do. It. Like. You. And you dragged me in here to ask me specifically about how I have this…this psychic intuition thingy, and you want me to demonstrate, and you keep demanding I do it on your safety net, with your rules, and god damn, Leo get your head out of your ass. I know firsthand that it can stretch a lot, but yours has gotta be pretty loose to fit that whole thick head inside. And here we all thought your ass was too tight. Did you bump up against that stick while you were in there?"

Leo freezes, mouth open, eyes huge. Not only did Mike mock and throw shade, he just made a crude joke referencing his horrific rape trauma. While poking holes all over Leo's ego and puffed up pride.

"Uhhh…"

"Yeah, kinda feels painful when you fall so far from your high horse, doesn't it?" Mikey smirks and shrugs, rolling his neck and shoulders. When he meets Leo's eyes, there is a flicker of fire, a snap of ice.

He's been hanging around Raph too much.

Or maybe this is just how Mikey is now, matured and forced to grow up after rising from the ashes of unspeakable horrors.

Leo swallows a lump in his throat. His sweet, kind, naïve, innocent baby brother, the precious child of sunshine whom he must protect at all costs. Who has been viciously attacked, excruciatingly injured, brought to the edge of death, emotionally tormented, and violated sickeningly. Guilt and heavy dark responsibility settles on Leo's shoulders and digs in bloody claws.

Mikey is frowning, very quiet. He looks just above Leo's head, squinting, and then he lets out a soft growl.

"It's dark," he pouts. "Shouldn't be so dark. You know better, Leo."

Leo pats the top of his head. "I don't understand. What do you see?"

"The color, Leo. Your colors. They're all over you. Some of them are dark on you right now. You're doing that guilt thing again, aren't you."

He hangs his head, breathes deeply. "Mikey, I'm your older brother and your leader. I have a job and a duty to-"

"I can take care of myself. Don and Raph, too. You can't fight all our battles for us. That's your problem here. You made your colors too dark because you don't wanna look at yourself. Turn all that around. It might take a while. Then we can start doing it my way"

Leo's brow knits as he rolls Mikey's odd word placement around in his head. He doesn't know how long he sits there in contemplation, but when he looks up, Mikey is gone. The television volume is louder, and Mikey's laughter is heard over it. Leonardo bites the inside of his cheek and feels as though he's done everything wrong.

***

[intothestarkerverse]

Time of Our Lives (Part Three)

Based on a prompt from @geekymarvel  

Peter is tasked with an important mission that requires him to go back in time.   Finding himself at a gala for Stark industries in the 1990’s, he comes face to face with a young and incorrigible Tony Stark who considers Peter’s attempts to deny his advances a challenge.  Now, dogged by a horny young CEO who won’t take no for an answer, Peter’s task has become much more difficult….

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

“Get on your radio. I want S.H.I.E.L.D. I want the F.B.I. I want the N.S.A. I want everyone with a god damn badge and an acronym for a name here in ten minutes.” When there was no immediate response from Happy, Tony turned to take in the other man’s embarrassed expression, barely losing a step of his meaningful stride. “Tell me you have your radio.”

“I left it in the security office.”

“Of course you did.” Tony skidded to a stop in front of the elevator, reaching for his security badge for executive override and realizing with an angry growl that he didn’t have it. The kid did. “Fine, go back to the security office and call in the cavalry then.”

“I can’t let you go down there alone, Sir, it could be dangerous.”

“See, I thought I was the boss here. My name and not yours on the building, the paychecks…Happy Industries sounds like a brothel or a pizza parlor with an animatronic rat, you know? Is this a whore house or a pizza arcade, Happy? No. Then just do what I say or hit the unemployment line in the morning, I honestly don’t care which you choose.” He turned his back to thesecurity guard and began mashing the down arrow on the elevator again and again and again as if that would make it arrive faster. When it still hadn’t arrived after several seconds, he begrudgingly pushed his way through the door to the emergency stairwell somewhat placated that Happy was not behind him and had done as instructed and gone back to get the authorities. Tony honestly wasn’t worried about the kid hurting him. If Peter Parker wanted him dead, he would have killed him when they were alone in the Men’s Room. Nah, this kid was out for something other than blood...it was just a real damn shame it wasn’t sex.

By the time he reached the incinerator in the basement Tony was a little breathless. The door providing access to the inside of the incinerator for removal of ash and debris was open and there was the sound of movement echoing from within the large metal room. “All right, Kid, you’ve got at best fifteen minutes before this building is swarming with federal agents. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll run…” Tony’s words died on his lips as he stepped into the open doorway and several things became apparent at once.

That was not the kid in the incinerator.

It was, in fact, three individuals dressed in black who were collecting a myriad of items from the incinerator that Tony hadn’t recalled ordering destroyed. Two of them did not even look up from their work, but the third individual swung his considerably impressive firearm in Tony’s direction and let off several rounds of gunfire before Tony’s words had even stopped echoing in the room.

—

There were very few times in Peter Parker’s life when his proclivity for mathematics and the physical sciences was a hindrance. This was one of those few times. As he slowly climbed down the never-ending shaft of the incinerator on finger tips and toes, his brain was busy calculating the height of the shaft, how much time it would take him to fall down it, how much damage he would sustain from the fall, and any number of worse doomsday scenarios.

Truth was, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He had pretty good stamina and his muscles weren’t even beginning to sting yet. In the grand scheme of things, this should be a piece of cake…but Peter had a little bit of trouble with very confined spaces ever since Vulture dropped a building on him. It wasn’t a full-fledged phobia. He certainly tried to avoid very tight places if he could help it, though, and this incinerator shaft was about as tight as they came. If he was any larger, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fit inside it. As it was, there was little more than a couple of inches to either side of his shoulders and his knees and ass were scraping the other sides as he crawled down. It was also exceptionally dark and quiet. All he could hear was the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat and the sound of his somewhat frenzied breathing against the mask of his ironspider suit. He really missed Karen. Being without the AI didn’t make the suit useless, it was still every bit as intuitive as it had ever been…but Karen was a point of comfort that he could have used as he convinced himself that the tiny incinerator shaft was no big deal at all.

Spidey sense came first, as it was always want to do. The familiar tingling at the base of his skull that flared quickly enough to a full fledged stabbing pain. Peter had learned over the years to take his Spidey sense with a grain of salt. Sometimes it had a habit of alerting him to dangers that were rather mundane and not at all life threatening. His reaction to the warning was more dependent upon the circumstances. In a fight, he was much more likely to duck, expecting an oncoming projectile, than he was in the middle of Calculus. Sometimes, for the sake of secret identities, it was important to let the spitball Flash had lobbed at his head hit him between the eyes. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

This time, Peter paid attention to his biological warning system, slowing down and taking the last few yards of decent much more carefully than the first hundred or so. He didn’t jump out of the shaft as he might have done without the warning, instead angling himself to cling to the roof of the incinerator as he poured his body out of the hole and was finally able to take stock of the situation.

Three men.

All in black. They were loading a reinforced metal crate with objects from the incinerator. One of which, he saw with dismay, was the one he had been sent to recover. This complicated matters much more than he cared to admit. Were these people supposed to steal this stuff? Could he afford to stop them completely and take the machine, or should he just try to get the machine away from them and try to avoid affecting the time stream even more than he already had? Why hadn’t Tony or the stones known about this in the first place? What was he going to do?

It was Tony’s voice that pulled him out of the worried maelstrom of his own thoughts.

Oh no.

Oh God.

Peter saw the one with the gun turn towards the doorway and his head exploded with a thousand warnings.

He absolutely could not let Tony Stark die.

The world seemed to slow down, seconds taking minutes as they passed. Spider-Man aimed for the barrel of the gun, firing a quick burst of webbing and using all of his strength to pull the gun up so that as it fired, the rounds skittered above Tony’s head and out into the basement where he hoped they would do no harm.

He left the ceiling in a graceful leap, hands colliding with the shooter’s shoulders as he pushed him to the ground and delivered a forceful right hook to the man’s masked face. Peter was used to pulling his punches. He was far too strong to hit an average person with the full brunt of his power. Not if he didn’t want to knock someone’s head off, anyway. This time, perhaps, he didn’t hold back quite enough. The guy wasn’t dead. He’d never forgive himself if he killed an actual person, but he was adequately stunned…maybe even concussed.

One down.

Two to go.

—

Tony Stark’s life did not flash before his eyes. He was more than a little grateful for that, because truthfully he had done very little worth reliving at that juncture. His only thought, in fact, as he watched the sparks fly from the end of the gun as the bullets fired, was that he was going to die without ever taking that sweet piece of thieving ass to bed. And that was a shame.

Then the bullets were whizzing overhead and he was enraptured, watching that sweet piece of thieving ass saving his damn life. If he had thought the kid was attractive before, he was gone for the boy now. Watching him fight was the best possible kind of foreplay and Tony could even forgive his little stunt in the bathroom in favor of what he was seeing now.

Peter Parker was an artist. There was a grace and a fluidity to his movements that reminded Tony of a dancer or a gymnast as he sprang and flipped and flew around the incinerator. He was flexible. Oh, was he flexible. Watching the way his body could twist and bend had Tony lost in all kinds of lascivious thoughts, imagining all of the new, exciting sexual adventures he could have with a beautiful boy who could move like that.

He was also a smart ass. Every punch and kick, every time he fired that fluid from his wrists and jerked one of the men across the room, it was always accompanied by some sarcastic remark or witty banter that had Tony smiling despite himself. Dammit. He had been determined to be angry at the kid, angry enough to deny him sex and see him carted off to a S.H.I.E.L.D. prison, but he could already feel that resolve crumbling. Beautiful boys with bodies as skilled at movement as his and a tongue as sharp were so hard to come by. No, so very, very hard to find and so very, very easy to cum by.

As Peter sent one of the men flying into the other and both crumpled into piles of shredded and discarded paperwork, he came to light directly in front of Tony. “Mr. Stark, could you…I don’t know, maybe not stand there in the open like a sitting duck? I really can’t be responsible for you dying again and I can’t stop these guys and protect you too…”

Again? “Protect me?” Tony was offended to the depths of his soul. “I do not need to be protected, Peter.”

The eyes of the suit widened somewhat, obviously surprised to hear Tony use his real name. Then, with a sigh, the mask over his head melted away and he addressed Tony face to face. “You do actually. You really do. And you can’t die, so…I’m really, really sorry about this…”

Before Tony knew what was happening, the kid had fired two quick shots of webbing, binding first his ankles and then his arms to his sides. With a somewhat gentle kick, he tipped the man over and sent him rolling away from the entrance.

—

Peter really shouldn’t have been surprised that Tony had known who he was. Tony always knew who he was, it seemed. In the future, in the past. He was just never going to be able to maintain a secret identity with Tony Stark. The man was destined to always know Peter’s deepest and darkest secrets…except for the one he’d kept closely guarded for far too long. That secret he had never intended to allow to see the light of day, but one devilishly sexy younger version of his mentor was teasing him with so many possibilities that he feared his secret desires were not secret anymore. If he only had more time…He thought he saw something, a dark look in Tony’s eyes a moment before the man fell and rolled out of the doorway. Clearly, Peter was now not the only one who’d be having fantasies about tying Tony up with webbing and doing dirty, dirty things. He felt his cheeks blush a moment before his Spidey Sense flared again and he dived before a spray of gunfire erupted behind him.

“Okay, guys, seriously…enough is enough.” Peter bounced up again, annoyed to see that the third man was not as incapacitated as he had previously thought. “I’m not letting you leave with that stuff, and in case you missed what the man said before you so rudely tried to kill him…the cops are on the way.”

“Yes, they are.”

The voice had come from behind Peter, not in front of him, and slowly the boy turned to face a new arrival. This man was not dressed in black but in an expensive tuxedo. He’d been one of the guests, then. Probably the one who’d let these guys into the incinerator in the first place. It was not the man that had Peter frozen in fear, though, but what the man was holding.

Tony was still bound, and probably would be for another hour without Peter’s solvent to dissolve the webbing. Unfortunately, this meant he was not putting up much of a fight to the man who now had a gun pressed against his head. “You’re going to let us out of here, all of us, with the contraband…or Tony Stark is going to leave here in a body bag.”

Peter held up his hands, palms splayed, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Hey, man, you don’t want to hurt him, do you? I mean, you’ve gone to this much trouble to steal his stuff…if he’s dead, how’s he goin’ to invent something new for you to steal?”

“How indeed.” The man’s gaze moved to the disguised men who were once again scrambling to fill the crate as quickly as they could. “Oh, just leave the rest. We don’t have time. We’ll have to be content with what we’ve got. Pack up the crate, we’re leaving.”

Peter watched as the men lifted the heavy crate and began carrying it out. He dropped his hands to his side as the man’s attention was on the crate for a split second, barely the blink of an eye, firing off a quick tracker that embedded in the seaming of the crate.

When the crate and the men were out of the incinerator, Peter was preparing to launch an offensive and keep that guy from putting a bullet in Tony’s brain. He needn’t have worried, though. Just as Peter was rushing forward for the attack, he felt a heavy object collide with him and send him to the ground with an indelicate grunt. Then, he heard the sound of the door slamming shut and felt his stomach sink.

Oh no.

He pushed himself up, locking gazes with Tony who had been summarily thrown into the room at him. “Oh shit.” Peter’s gaze moved from the man to the room around them as he heard machinery whirring to life. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

The incinerator was coming on.

They were going to burn the two of them alive.

Peter reached for Tony, the solvent that dissolved the webbing loosening the bonds on the other man's arms and legs.

“This whole keeping me safe thing…you’re really terrible at it, kid.”

“We don’t have time for your sarcasm.” Peter was searching the room, desperate for some way out. The chute was too small for the both of them…probably too small for Tony. His shoulders were much broader than Peter’s, an attribute that Peter had always found attractive. The chimney was likely too tall, too thin, and with too few purchases for webbing. Not to mention the fact that fire and hot air from the incinerator were going to go up that chimney faster than he could climb with a passenger. He couldn’t stop the flame, not without literally ripping the incinerator apart. That left him with only one option…

His mental calculations were interrupted by the feeling of an arm around his waist pulling him in close and then kissing him again. God, even the fire of the incinerator wasn’t going to be able compete with this heat. Peter whimpered but tried to push himself away. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to go out on my terms.” Tony’s voice rasped against his lips and Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

“Rain check. On the kissing, not the dying.” He succeeded in pushing himself away and flipped upward, watching dubiously as the fire began to spew from several pipes along the bottom of the room. Tony was backing towards the middle of the room, as far from the fire as he could get, as Peter anchored webbing a little into the shaft from which he’d entered and backed up to a far corner of the room, turning around to brace his arms, back, and legs against the ceiling.

Tony followed his gaze to the door. “You realize that’s sealed shut. It would take a hell of a lot of pressure to open it from the inside.”

“2 tons, give or take, depending on where I hit it. Already did the math. Should be easy.” Something in Tony’s eyes made Peter smirk. Had he just licked his lips like he was looking at a piece of chocolate cake…while he was looking at Peter? Oh this was bad, this was very, very bad…but all the more reason to live.

He used every ounce of strength he could muster, pushing off of the ceiling and hurtling towards the door. A moment before his feet struck it, he watched in abject horror as it swung open of it’s own accord and he had to try to slow himself down before he barreled right into young Happy Hogan. Blindly shooting a stream of webbing, it struck something overhead and he pulled himself sharply to the right, swinging in an arc and hitting the nearby broiler hard enough to leave what Peter would later swear was a vaguely human imprint. Groaning, he collapsed onto his back on the floor and watched from his new vantage point as Tony emerged from the incinerator looking none the worse for wear.

“Good job, Happy. You deserve a promotion. Personal security sound good to you? You can keep me safe, get a pay raise, show the kid how you save someone’s life the right way.” Tony crossed the basement, standing over Peter with his arms crossed over his chest. “The cops here yet, Happy?”

“Coming down any minute, Sir.”

Peter was up in a moment, ignoring the aches from his collision with the building’s heating system. “I’m begging you, Mr. Stark, please don’t tell S.H.I.E.L.D or the police what happened. They can’t know I’m here, no one else can know I’m here…or what they took or anything else. Please…Please, Mr. Stark…”

“I do love to see you beg, Beautiful, but why should I? You stole from me. You almost got me barbecued…and you’ve already done irreparable harm to the time stream, anyway.”

Peter stopped in mid sentence, his whole body completely rigid at Tony’s reprimand. Only his eyes moved as they widened considerably at the implications of the statement. “Wuh…How…What…I’m not…”

Tony stared back, his mouth twisted into a frown, brows raised. “Yeah, you did and you are. So, if you want me to keep you out of prison…you have a very small window of time in which to tell me why a future version of myself chose to send you back in time, what you needed in that incinerator, and why. Spill it, and don’t waste time on that adorable stutter.”

[akitokihojo]

Plain as Day

Alright, here comes my first ever one shot! It is, in no regards, related to Father’s Day. I just finally had a peaceful moment to myself last night/this morning to finish the damn thing.

Be kind!

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

The early morning air was crisp, the slight chill bringing his attention down to the sleeping woman beside him. Sometimes he didn't believe it. It was still fresh. Still new to have Kagome sleeping next to him in the small hut Miroku had helped him build just before the twins were born, but never thought he'd actually use.

Inuyasha propped himself up with his elbow and pulled the blanket around her shoulders to make sure the chill of the new season didn't bother her, gently brushing a strand of her raven hair off of her cheek. It had been a little over a month since her scent reappeared after three years and sent him flying through the forest trees to meet her at the well, and he'd never admit it out loud but he was still afraid, even after this long, that he'd wake up to find out it had all been a dream. Kagome knew. Of course, Kagome knew. Nothing got passed the girl. She'd told him they'd just have to enjoy the time they get with each other, sure enough sharing the same fear. It was all a load of cheesy shit to him if he was being honest, and he hated thinking about it. He'd be damned if he'd ever be without his Kagome again.

The dark-haired girl shifted in her sleep, unconsciously scooting her body forward until she was pressed against Inuyasha's chest, the icy tips of her fingers brushing along his bare waist and settling at his hip. He tried not to shutter, the cold causing a small trail of goosebumps to follow her touch. Instead, he relished in the feeling of her slender, sleeping body curved into his own. A feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever agree he actually deserved but would selfishly soak up for as long as he could.

Weeks ago, Inuyasha had planned a visit to his mother's grave. He preferred to go while everyone was preoccupied with other business and his absence for the day wouldn't be noticed. He didn't like being hounded with questions of where he'd taken off to, and there was no way in hell his visits to his mother wouldn't stay private. But it never happened. A couple of days before he felt it would be safe to escape, Kagome came back. And the thought of leaving her behind for even an hour was unfathomable.

The guilt was beginning to weigh on him now, though. The last time he visited her grave was nearly a year ago, and the only reason for that was because Sango was with child and this pregnancy was harder on her body than the last. Only a month or so after Miroku and Sango found out about their new baby, Kaede put her on bed rest saying she could lose her child if she continued to strain herself. And while Inuyasha frequently went with Miroku and Sango on demon exterminations, he stepped in permanently to take Sango's place.

Kagome's fingers twitched slightly against his skin and she adjusted herself once more, sighing into his chest. He couldn't help the smile that flicked across his lips, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. The thought of leaving her behind caused a physical ache in his lungs. So, he'd just have to drag her along.

Dipping his head down to the side of her own, his lips gently grazed her temple as his fingers threaded their way through Kagome's hair.

"Hey," Inuyasha whispered, placing a kiss just above her ear. "Wake up, Kagome."

She responded with a groan, tucking her head further into his chest.

"Wake up, we've gotta go." He whispered again, brushing his nails through her dark strands, being careful not to pull at any possible tangles.

"Go where?" Her voice was almost a whine, triggering her arm to wrap fully around his waist as if to prevent him from leaving her alone on the futon.

"You'll see." He kissed her forehead as she unfurled, fluttering her big, brown eyes open at him. "Get ready. It's a long trip."

"But-"

He shot her a look, eyebrow quirked upward. A look that said no more questions. A look Kagome was all too familiar with yet hardly listened to. He was lucky she was still half-asleep. She released her hold on him and crawled her way to a seated position, blinking the sleep from her eyes and attempting to tame her bed hair by smoothing her fingers through it and picking out the small knots she came across. From her peripherals, which were still unfocused and unreliable, she watched her hanyou leave her side and make his way across their hut to retrieve his kosode and suikan. She noticed the darkness of their home, turning her head to watch him shift around until he found the clothing he was looking for, taking note of the lack of shadow in the definition of his broad back and shoulder muscles as he tossed her own kosode on the futon before he had even finished pulling an arm through a sleeve.

"Is it morning?" Her raspy voice didn't help her sound as awake as she tried to appear, shimmying out of her night robes, not even slightly worried that her half demon wasn't already facing the wall out of respect, and slipping her arms through her kosode from where she sat.

A small, breathy laugh escaped his nose. "Yeah. It's morning. Just early. Hurry up."

"What's the rush?" Kagome huffed, crawling her lower half out from under the covers to pull on her hakama that was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Another look.

Seriously? Kagome sighed, tying the final knot of her clothing tight and standing into a pencil stretch in an attempt to fully waken up her muscles and ready herself for this mysterious and long journey Inuyasha was about to take her on. Whatever it was, she figured it was important to him if he opted out of talking about it. He never talked about anything important. Usually, she was lucky to be intuitive enough to figure it out on her own. This time, though, she had no clue what he had planned.

She remembered back in the day, back before Naraku was defeated and everyone had settled down, the only sudden and important trips Inuyasha would take he would take alone. She remembered waking in her sleeping bag those mornings, little Shippo cuddled up in her arms, to find Inuyasha gone without a trace. Neither Miroku nor Sango knew where he'd go whenever he pulled those stunts, and they'd have to sit and wait however long for him to return with nothing but a hunch as to what could have possibly been so important for him to take off on them. Sometimes training, sometimes Kikyo, sometimes for privacy to figure out his next move.

Kagome couldn't help but feel at least a little excited to be included on this one.

Inuyasha slid the door shut behind them, the sunlight just beginning to peak over the mountains.

"Should we let Miroku and Sango know we're leaving in case they come looking for us?" She asked, turning to face him. The soft curve of her lips sent a flutter through his abdomen, causing him to close the insignificant distance between them just to see how wild the fluttering could get, his fingers cradling the crook of her jaw and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Nah. They'll live without knowing where we are for one day." The hanyou replied, tilting her head back just enough to give him easier access to her lips, brushing a kiss against them and sighing to calm that tickling sensation he'd mistakenly excited that was quickly becoming far too much to handle.

It hardly worked. Not with the way her hands gripped at the front of his robes, or with the way she smiled into his kiss, or with the way she broke it far too soon just to give him another chaste kiss, brushing the tip of her nose against his. He could feel his cheeks grow warm, a common effect brought on by anything she did to him, no doubt a pink flush blemishing his face. Son of a...

In an attempt to hide it from Kagome, he quickly turned around and kneeled down, willing her to climb onto his back. "C'mon. We've uh... Got a ways to go."

One slender leg straddled his back, then the other. He gripped the back of her thighs firmly, giving a bit of a gentle bounce as he stood up straight to make sure she was secure and her weight was distributed evenly, then jumped into the nearest tree heading northeast.

He found himself subconsciously stroking Kagome's thigh with the pad of his thumb at some point, the cloth that separated his fingers from her smooth, pale flesh growing irritating and bringing his attention to what he was doing. Inuyasha had no idea how long he'd been doing it for, but the unenjoyable, tingling sensation he had from rubbing his thumb back and forth over clothing tells him it may have been a while. He used to do it all the time on their journeys in the past, all unintentional of course. The first time was after Kagome had gotten kidnapped by that Hakudoshi kid. After he'd rescued her from the evil, little shit's attempt to manipulate and control her for her powers, he carried her unconscious body back to Kaede's village. It was perfectly evident that she was harmed and he hated himself for letting that happen to her, and on his slow trek back to the village he found himself stroking her thigh with the padding of his thumb. As if to comfort her or something. Ever since, it had occurred more and more frequently. He'd caress, he'd notice, he'd stop. Wash, rinse, repeat. A vicious cycle that he couldn't put an end to because, frankly, he didn't want to. And Kagome never said anything about it, so why should he? Especially now.

He didn't take the time to enjoy the silky feel of her skin enough while he had the chance. The scratchy hakama that dressed her long legs snatched the pleasure away from him, making Inuyasha realize just how much he missed that short skirt she used to wear. He never understood how she fought battle after battle in the thing without her ass popping out, an art if you think about it, and constantly wished she'd just wear pants for once in her life because he'd have been damned if the accident occurred in front of that stupid, scrawny wolf... But if there was ever a time he found it absolutely acceptable for her to wear that skirt, it would be while she was hitching a ride on his back.

The sun was high in the sky, a few clouds drifting by and creating patches of shadows on the trail Inuyasha stopped on. He crouched down allowing Kagome to climb off and stretch her limbs, exhaling a blissful sigh and taking in a deep breath of the nearby field of flowers.

"It's so pretty out here! Have we ever been out this way before? I don't recognize it!" Kagome asked, pushing a stray strand of black hair the breeze blew in her face behind her ear. She turned and walked a little ways ahead, heading into the large field of colorful flowers.

"I have." Inuyasha responded flatly, wanting to smile at how her first reaction to the overly fragrant plants was to twirl around, pick a few, then twirl around some more, but finding it difficult to curl his lips out of the flat line they were pressed in due to the anxiety of the grave that sat just about a half mile or so up the grassy hill. He hadn't realized he was staring off in that direction until Kagome's soft voice broke his thoughts.

"You okay?" She had a handful of yellow daisies. Just the yellow ones. Always just the yellow ones. He'd never asked, and she'd never said, but if he had to guess her favorite flower that'd be it.

"Hm? Oh... Yeah. Fine. W-what are you-"

"Just relax." She was perched on her tippy toes, arms reaching above his head to stick a flower in his hair to the side of an ear, giving the appendage a little attention by rubbing it in between her fingers before rocking back on the heels of her feet to stand at her normal height. "There! You're as cute as ever, Inuyasha!"

"Feh! Demon's aren't cute." He huffed, quickly grabbing the daisy from his head and holding it in front of her clutched bouquet.

"Yes, but you're half demon. So that makes you half cute." Kagome smiled, reuniting the blossom with the others in her hands.

The hanyou rolled his golden eyes, holding his clawed hand out for Kagome to take, feeling that fluttering feeling in his stomach return when her small fingers laced perfectly with his calloused ones.

"C'mon, it's just a little bit further."

"Will you tell me where we're going yet?" She asked, giving his hand a tender squeeze and sending a wave of heat directly from his palm to his cheeks like a lick of flames traveling through his veins. He couldn't say why merely holding Kagome's hand made him nervous, but it did. Holding hands was the absolute lowest bar on the spectrum of intimacy and it still made him red in the face. Was it something he was proud of? Fuck no. Did he feel pathetic? Hell yes he did! Was he ever going to hold himself back from touching her in any which way he possibly could for as long as he lived? Over his dead body.

He dodged those dark brown eyes that no doubt saw the shade of pink he tried to hide and stared off in the opposite direction as they began their slow ascent up the hill.

"Just be patient, would ya?"

She squeezed his hand again as if to acknowledge what he said. It was a little quirk she did. Instead of saying "okay," if they were holding hands, she'd give a quick squeeze. Sometimes while taking a walk around the village, or even laying in their bed late at night after a long day, they'd be hand-in-hand some way or another and she'd give three firm squeezes. He still hadn't figured out what they meant yet.

"What do you plan on doing with those daisies?" Inuyasha asked, approaching the top and curving around the trail.

"I'm not sure. Maybe make some flower crowns for the twins. Maybe even give a few to Kaede to thank her for the training she's giving me." She shrugged lightly, eyeing the scenery ahead, taking in the sight of the large mountains in the distance and the grassy fields that spread far and wide. There was nothing this beautiful in her time. Not that she'd seen, at least. All she knew back in Tokyo were buildings, trains, people, and noise. Sure, Kagome was used to it and there was a level of domestic beauty to it, but compared to the serene, undisturbed nature that stood before her there was no competition. Feudal Japan won by a long shot.

She felt a tug on her hand as she fell behind, Inuyasha leading the two of them off the path and towards a small gathering of trees. She stayed quiet, noticing the uneasy features that scrunched his eyebrows together and had his lips just slightly curving downward. She felt his grip against her fingers tighten, felt the muscles of his arm tense, saw him stand up straighter as they walked through the trees, noticed the rise and fall of his chest constrict to the point that she was certain he was holding his breath.

Kagome followed the hanyou's line of sight, locking her eyes on an oval-shaped slab protruding from the ground just ahead. Small patches of green moss made their way up the sides of the slab, the lettering on the front faded and hardly legible. The stiff body beside her stopped completely several feet away, the curiosity building so intensely that, on impulse, she removed her hand from his own, closed the gap, and kneeled down in front.

Still, she couldn't make out the name, running the tips of her fingers along the carvings down the face of the stone.

"Who-"

"Izayoi..." Inuyasha breathed, his voice gruff and thick, strands of silver hair blowing across his chest with the breeze. "Her name... Was Izayoi."

He knelt down next to her, giving a small bow to the stone that Kagome sloppily copied from not being able to peel her eyes away from her hanyou, and met her with his golden gaze.

"Kagome, this is my mother."

Her lips parted to speak, but no words formed. She wasn't sure how to react. Should her shoulders have sunken like they did? Was that right? How about the way her own breath hitched in her throat? That couldn't have been right either. Instead she continued looking at him, even after he'd turned his attention back to his mother's resting place, a warm sensation coursing through her body from head to toe and pooling in the pit of her abdomen.

Kagome couldn't help the way her brain slowly wrapped around the information Inuyasha had given her. She was sitting in front of his mother's grave. She was sitting in a place she'd never even considered possible, not from lack of knowledge of its existence, because Myoga had briefly shared that Inuyasha visited it from time-to-time some years ago, but because she was well aware of how much Inuyasha cherished his privacy when regarding his mother.

They sat in silence for a moment, her brown eyes drifting from his calmed expression, to the old stone in front of her, to the old vase holding dry, withered flowers just off to the left. Without a second thought, Kagome took the dead flowers out, parts of them crumbling from her touch, and replaced them with her entire batch of yellow blossoms.

"You didn't have to do that." The hanyou mentioned.

She shook her head, placing a hand on the balled up fist in his lap. "I'm happy to, Inuyasha."

"I've never brought anyone here before." His clawed hands slowly opened up, welcoming her slender fingers to slide their way between his own. "I never even thought there'd be someone I wanted to bring here. But you... I... I wanted you to be a part of this, because this is a huge part of me."

Kagome felt herself subconsciously giving Inuyasha's hand three slow, firm squeezes when he abruptly gripped hers back, his golden eyes meeting her own once again.

"What does that mean?" He asked, eyebrow arching in curiosity.

"W-what?"

"That hand thing you always do. What does it mean?"

Kagome froze. Did she do it that often? She never once considered that he'd notice, and even if he did, she never thought he'd call her out on it.

"I-uh... It's just... I..." She could feel the searing heat hit her cheeks, her heart thumping as erratically as it did the day she returned to the feudal era. "It means... I..."

"Kagome-"

"Love you."

It was his turn to freeze, eyes wide, ears at attention.

"Enough about that!" Kagome laughed loudly, flicking her other hand up and down as if to dismiss the conversation, something she'd always done when she was nervous or flustered. "Listen, Inuyasha..."

She was changing the subject. And he was letting her. Albeit, unwillingly. He still couldn't figure out what to say. It were as if his brain forgot how to fucking talk, and he was just gaping like a damn idiot.

"I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you wanted to bring me with you. It means more to me than you'll ever know. And... well, I want you to know that you don't have to talk if you don't want to. Whenever my family would visit my dad's grave, I preferred to sit in silence. You know... Kind of just to spend my time with him instead of focusing on idle chit chat. We didn't get to visit often. It was always hard on my mom. But when we were able to, it was quiet and peaceful and I was happy after. So, I understand if you'd like the same." She smiled sweetly, cocking her head to the side slightly and giving his hand a small squeeze before taking it away and standing. "I'll give you a moment with her."

He wanted to ask where she was going. More importantly, he wanted to stop her. He hadn't said what he'd wanted to say yet. He hadn't figured out what he'd wanted to say yet.

What the hell was wrong with him?

She returned a half hour later, a circle of yellow daisies knotted together in her hands. Yellow. Always yellow.

"Hi!" She smiled, noticing his knee bobbing up and down impatiently from where he sat.

"I was about to go looking for you, Kagome."

"Oh, come on, I wasn't gone that long." She rolled her eyes, sitting close enough that their legs were touching to stop his knee from continuing that irritating bouncing motion, and swept her dark hair behind her ear before the breeze could blow it in her face. "Besides, I made this flower crown. I thought your mom would like it!”

"Y-you made that for her?" He wondered, watching as she placed the tiara at the foot of the headstone, fluffing the flowers out around the sides.

"Mhmm," she responded, sitting back and admiring her work. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course it's..." He stopped, finally understanding the answer. Finally feeling like he knew what to say to the raven haired woman that sat at his side. That would always sit by his side. Even through the hardest times all those years ago, she was by his side, and he realized almost too late that he wouldn't want it any other way. It was there in front of him the entire time, plain as day.

Why did it take him so long to figure it out? Was he really that stupid?

Kagome watched his expression harden, brows furrowing together, jaw setting. His ember eyes suddenly bore into her, the flames inside his irises glowing fiercely. She couldn't help the sudden and heavy thump her heart gave behind her ribcage, or the look of question that she was sure was evident on her face.

"Inuyasha?"

"Kagome, I-"

She watched him swallow, watched him unfold his arms from over his chest and remove his hands from his red sleeves, watched as his fingers curled into tight fists over his knees and how the muscle in his jaw twitched.

Her heart gave another heavy thump, her palms beginning to sweat at how intense his stare was.

He took a deep breath, lips parting once more.

"I want to marry you."