#just a normal day at the flea market

[rootbeerworshiper]

Thrift Store

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: cute asf LMAO

had an anon talk about this and omg it’s so adorable i’m 🤭🤭

love, sienna <3

“Matt cmon please one more store” Chris begs his older brother.

the three have been out shopping the entire day at different vintage stores and flea markets in LA and to say Matt was tired would be an understatement. his social battery never lasted long in public and today was no different.

as always, Matt had already found a bunch of things, but his brothers weren’t as lucky and both of them wanted to go to just one more store.

this would be fine if they could drive, but Matt’s the designated driver because he’s the only one who got his license which now means wherever they go, he goes. “you better be fast” he gives in, driving to the last store with heavy eyelids and zero motivation for shopping.

_______________________________________________

you on the other hand are more energetic than normal, you had just gotten coffee with a friend and impulsively decided to stop at a store before you went home.

fashion had always been something that spoke to you, not only did you love imaging different outfits and putting pieces together, but you also consider good fashion to be attractive—like a love language in a weird way.

thrifting was always like therapy, you’d put one airpod in and play a mix of songs ranging from Mac Miller to Frank Ocean, your felt at ease sifting through the racks.

the bell at the top of the door rings but you don’t think anything of it, still mindlessly sorting through an abundance of tops while ‘Ivy’ plays softly in your airpod.

_______________________________________________

the moment Matt steps foot into the store he freezes, literally causing Chris to bump into him in the entrance area. “bro what the fuck move”

he shakes his head, what is he thinking? “sorry” he continues walking but ultimately keeps his general focus on you, a girl thrifting by herself, he wasn’t sure why, but he was infatuated with you from the moment he saw you.

Nick looks to him as if he knows what’s happening, his brother flustered at the sight of a girl. “let’s keep moving kid there’s more important things to be looking at”

after mumbling out a quick “yeah whatever” he obliges, heading to the men’s sweater section of the store while his brothers go elsewhere.

his eyes flicker between you and the clothes, and it doesn’t take long for you to eventually pick up on the boy who’s gaze is directed towards you from across the room.

_______________________________________________

another thing you love thrifting is books. most of the time there’s not many options, but you love looking at the abundance of old books on the shelves with a hope that you’ll find something worth reading.

you couldn’t help but avert your gaze to a brunette boy in a green sweater with baggy jeans and his keys hanging on by a clip—he was hot.

and the two of you have made eye contact about twenty times since he entered the store, not that you’re complaining.

you shake your head, focusing back on the book shelf in front of you as you begin to sift through the numerous texts. soon you see the name of a familiar author and open up the book, looking for a description as to what it’s about, fully invested in the book and not your surroundings.

_______________________________________________

“i can’t just go up to her!” Matt whisper yells to Chris as they reside at the opposite side of the store as you.

the long haired boy lets out a frustrated sigh. “that’s exactly what you do! how do you think people meet each other?”

“not by hiding in the back of the store” Nick chimes in as he walks towards the jewelry section.

“i feel like it’s random, what do i even say? hey i’ve been staring at you since i walked in! no.” Matt is definitely one to overthink, today is no different.

although he had more relationship experience than his brother, Chris, that didn’t mean he alluded the same confidence.

“i don’t know Matt compliment her or something, you are literally hopeless” Chris runs his hands through his hair. “just be confident, even if you have to fake it” he pats his brother on the shoulder before waking off to join Nick elsewhere.

be confident

so he does what his brother told him, walking towards the book area with doubting thoughts coursing through his mind.

_______________________________________________

you look away from your book for one second, and the boy from earlier is directly next to you. “oh hi” you smile. you weren’t one to be introverted in settings like this, you enjoy making new friends and he was no exception.

him on the other hand, it was clear he was nervous, which only increased your own confidence.

“hey” he scratches the back of his neck, head louring low as he smiles. “do you thrift a lot? it just seems like you have good style so”

the compliment brings a heat to your cheeks. “i do thrift a lot, i love fashion a little too much” you stop yourself from rambling, if given the opportunity you could talk for hours on end. “i like your sweater, it’s cute”

“thanks” he says simply, some people are not great at receiving compliments and it’s clear he’s one them.

“what are you up to today?” you ask, looking back down at the book in your hands before adding it to the basket you’ve started.

“just shopping with my brothers all day, i’m exhausted but they can’t drive so i have to take them everywhere” he replies, earning a small laugh from you. “what about you?”

“just went out for coffee with a friend actually. i wasn’t planning on shopping but the bus wasn’t coming for another twenty minutes so i had time to kill”

“so you can’t drive either i take it” he teases, running his hand through his wavy hair.

you put your hands up as if your being arrested. “in my defence i have my learners, just need to learn how to actually move a vehicle now”

he chuckles at this. “that’s the hardest part. i could help you if you want, you know teach you how to drive”

“i’d like that, but i don’t even know your name so we’re technically still strangers unfortunately” you joke. “i’m y/n” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i’m Matt” he replies awkwardly, it’s cute though, how easily flustered he is.

“well Matt as much as i’ve enjoyed talking to you i do have a bus to catch” you gather your things. “i’ll take you up on your driving lessons but i guess you need my number for that”

“i guess i do” he says, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.

you roll your eyes, smiling as you type your number into the phone. “i’ll see you later Matt”

“i’ll see you later y/n”

and with that you walk towards the checkout, a smile still plastered on your face, and if you were to look back you’d see that Matt has the same.

_______________________________________________

when Nick and Chris finally finish shopping, the three make their way to the car after an extremely tiring day. Matt smiles as he sits in the drivers seat, his brothers joining him once they finish placing their bags in the car. “i got her number”

“you what?” Chris asks as his phone connects to bluetooth.

“i got her number and she said my sweater is cute” Matt buckles his seatbelt, doing his best to avoid smiling like an idiot.

“atta boy Matt” Chris daps up Matt as he pulls out of street parking.

the driver looks down at his sweater, he was definitely going to be wearing more stuff like this.

a/n: short and sweet but flustered!Matt x confident! reader is my fav tbh

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @s7urnfilms @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut ily <3

[resinfish]

Louisville Doll Theft Update

So I posted a couple weeks back about my friend whose landlord stole his doll collection, and I have good news and bad news.

The good news is we were able to track down one of the trucks. The bad news is that it belonged to a charity donation pickup that just ended up with their clothes and furniture after everything else had been taken by the "cleaners."

After calling all the cleaners and junk haulers in the area, we've narrowed it down to two, the first admitted to working with Barrett Goff/Allodium in the past but acted a little squirrely when I mentioned stolen property and said they hadn't been on that side of town that week, but the guy was otherwise sweet and cooperative, and said company policy is to donate anything not broken. The second admitted they let their employees just grab and take whatever, then got an attitude and said they "couldn't confirm or deny involvement," and told us to come back with a warrant. They're the only ones out of the internet's entire trove of KY Louisville area junk haulers that refused to give answers, which is pretty sus.

(Who, in the course of a normal conversation, says stuff like "can neither confirm nor deny involvement"? Not sure if these guys are guilty or just extra...)

Anyway, with nothing turning up on online resale platforms, the next stop is flea markets. As they're working extra gigs to save for a new place (and a lawyer), I'm hoping to save them a PI fee by organizing a sweep with people in the area, to run through local flea markets and see if anyone's trying to sell a massive doll collection. They already can't afford HRT anymore, if they have to pay a pi and a lawyer, getting justice will get prohibitively expensive both financially and personally

If you are local to the Louisville KY area, even if you're not in the hobby, please dm me and I'll go over the ones we haven't eliminated by phone yet. They've been advised to get a private investigator, but they really don't have that kind of money lying around after being robbed and left homeless. If I can get enough Baker Street Irregulars together to help, we can let them use their savings for a lawyer.

Again, the collection is made up of mostly Ringdoll, DIM, ResinSoul/Bobobie, and some Soom. Also among the more distinctive dolls we're trying to recover are Custom House Saint Mina and LE Sad Mina, an Island Doll Shukaku ver. 2 fullset, and a secondhand Volks free choice girl with goth vampire faceup and antique-looking dress.

If anyone knows attorneys who take cases for cheap or pro bono, please contact me so I can refer them. They've applied to the ACLU, but with the organization's workload these days, it's kind of a crapshoot.

If you can't volunteer and want to help, you can donate at:

Cashapp: $hyperionasshole and his new PP @memeharrington

Because posts with images get more traffic, here is me and my friend on my annual bluebonnet day, and our dolls (the blondes--RS Dai and 1st gen BBB Apollo--are his, and probably still wearing these outfits):

[himbofan4444]

Miguel bought a totem a few days ago from a vendor at a flea market. The woman told him that this totem would allow him to become more one with himself. The only thing is, he’d have to wear the totem for a few days for it to “observe” his lifestyle. Then something, something, spirit animal. Something, something, transform. Miguel was pretty tired so he pretty much tuned out what he thought were just mindless ramblings.

Miguel went through his weekend as normal, eating incessantly and lazing about the house. He was rather lean for a man with his diet though. He would often burp and fart, giggling like a buffoon at the smell and sounds they made. All in all, he was a slob, although a handsome slob at that.

That night, while he slept in his stained boxers, the changes commenced. His body plumped up, gaining the proper fat he should’ve gained if it weren’t for his insane metabolism. He swelled up to a large 350 pounds. He scratched unconsciously at his large belly as hair sprouted up across his entire body. This new coating of hair was incredibly thick and now damp with sweat. His stomach distended slightly, Miguel now being constantly bloated, needing to expel gas frequently. His whole body became stinkier, the combination of the constant belching and farting along with the sweat trapped under his fur.

The totem had decided his lifestyle was most similar to a bear, so that’s what he is now, at least almost. He now is the nearest approximation to a bear that a human can be.

[appalamutte]

Eric turns into the baking supplies aisle, tapping his thumb against the cart in rhythm with the Christmas music playing overhead.

He hadn’t intended to stop at the grocery store on his way home; after slipping on a patch of ice in front of a school field trip on his way to work, dropping and shattering his favorite work mug in the break room between meetings, and being told for the umpteenth time that another client has gone with another publisher, Eric, if you don’t start showing improvement then we’re going to have to look at other alternatives, all Eric wanted to do was go home and take a long, warm bath. Start that food critic’s memoir he picked up at a flea market a few weeks ago. Maybe—finally—clean out and reorganize his disaster of a spice cabinet, something to take his mind off things.

Just forget this day ever happened.

But then his editorial assistant accidentally deleted one of their client’s manuscripts while performing a mass exodus of unused files, and just like that, Eric went and cried in the bathroom because the day officially got worse than he ever thought it could get.

By some miracle, Dex down in IT had been able to find an old save of the file on the system’s hard drive. It didn’t have most of the notes Eric added for corrections or changes, nor did it have any of his assistant’s annotations. Really, it was the most bare-bones copy, but it was the entire manuscript in it’s most recent glory.

For that, Eric would’ve kissed Dex right then and there.

He loves Nursey too much to do that, though, so instead he did what he always does: he hugged Dex tightly, asked him what his favorite dessert was (snickerdoodle cookies), and at five o’clock he took the Green Line to West End and walked a few blocks to the best Whole Foods in Boston.

“Now you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eric murmurs, standing in front of the rather unfortunate-looking flour selection. Usually, there’s a complete inventory of all types—bread, whole wheat, all-purpose, self-rising, pastry—and that’s half of the reason Eric goes twenty minutes out of his way to shop here. Yet all that’s before him now is a couple of bags of all-purpose and a full row of cake flour.

Great. As if this day couldn’t get any better.

He pulls the shopping cart close as a family enters the aisle and considers his options. Normally, he prefers using a half-and-half combination of whole wheat and all-purpose, but after last week’s batch of pancakes, he’s out of whole wheat. He could get the cream of tartar and ground cinnamon now and stop at the Stop & Shop near his apartment for the flour, but that place is hit-or-miss at best, and with how his day’s going he doubts they’ll have any in stock either. 

Maybe he could forgo whole wheat flour this one time and just go with the all-purpose, but he really does love the taste it gives, not to mention it adds a bit more nutritional value. Nursey has been going on and on about how Dex is trying to eat healthier after losing his college-athlete physique, and—damn, maybe Eric should’ve offered to make something other than a dessert. Is it too late to call and ask if Dex would rather have some homemade protein bars? But then Nursey messaged Eric right before he left work with a bunch of crying emojis, thanking him and saying he was definitely going to steal some of the cookies from Dex, even though Eric’s pretty sure Dex would give Nursey most of them anyway, and—

“Bittle?”

Eric startles.

Looking up, he stares at the man before him for a moment before his heart skips a beat.

“Jack?” He asks dumbly, because it is Jack, standing there in an old, threadbare Samwell hoodie with a ball cap pulled low on his head. 

He’s a little soft around the edges and worn down in that way all professional athletes are after retirement, but he’s still unmistakably Jack Zimmermann with that small little quirk of a smile and the way his eyes are piercingly blue in the fluorescent lighting of the store. His hair still curls around the ear like it did whenever he used to let it grow out but there are flecks of gray in his temple now. His jaw, even after all these years, is still so pronounced but it’s not as sharp as it was back at Samwell, hidden under a layer of scruff. He’s still wearing god-awful yellow sneakers, except they’re a newer pair from a different brand, bright and spotless.

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack says, warmer and surer.

Eric uncrosses his arms. “Jack,” he says again, feeling himself smile, “gosh, I can’t believe it’s—it’s been so long! Jack! How are you?”

On a reflex, Eric steps forward to hug Jack, and there’s this absolutely mortifying moment where he realizes he’s going to hug Jack Zimmermann, the Jack Zimmermann he hasn't spoken to in seven years, the Jack Zimmermann he hasn't seen outside of the NHL Network in ten.

But then Jack meets him halfway, pulling him into a hug with both arms wrapped around Eric’s shoulders, and it’s like the last decade never happened, the weight rolling off his shoulders as easily as could be. It’s like Eric’s back in Providence, back in Samwell. It’s Jack’s apartment and the front porch of the Haus and the bed of Coach’s truck in the thick Georgia humidity.

(It’s being in love with your best friend.)

“I’m good,” Jack says, his chest rumbling. “Great, actually.”

He pats Eric’s shoulder once and with that, they pull away from one another. “That’s good,” Eric says, pulling his shopping cart closer so he can lean an elbow against the handle. “How’s retirement been? It’s been, gosh, almost a year now?”

“Just about. It'll be a year this February."

“You miss it?”

Jack tilts his head. “Eh,” he drawls out, “honestly yeah, I do. But, well…”

He gestures down toward his knee, and it takes Eric a few seconds to remember that Jack's retirement had more to do with an unfortunate check and less to do with the fact he was thirty-seven. Eric immediately backtracks. “Oh, shit—lord, excuse my language, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jack chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The knee has its days, but besides that, it's good as new.” He pauses. “Sort of.”

Eric’s blushing ‘till high noon, he’s sure of it. "Well that's good, then," he says.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas starts playing overheard and they stare at each other for another awkward beat. Finally, Jack clears his throat. “But, uh, how have you been? I think Shitty said you were at…Morris…”

“Morris Press,” Eric says, pulling at the skin between his thumb and forefinger, mentally slapping his cheeks. He’s usually never this bad with talking. “But yeah! I’ve been there for six years or so now, it’s a really great job. Helping others do what I always dreamed of is just, you know, a really fulfilling feeling.”

“I bet,” Jack says, and he’s got the little smile on his face again.

Another, not-as-awkward beat.

“I mean, I never thought I’d go into publishing, but…,” Eric starts, and he doesn’t mean to ramble, really; it’s an accidental slip that he starts going on about his job and his coworkers, the projects he’s helped publish, how publishing his own cookbook right out of Samwell led to now, just talking Jack’s poor ear off in the middle of the store. Jack gives his little comments here and there, like he used to, and doesn’t once make Eric feel like he’s holding him, and that—that’s exactly why Eric finds he can’t stop himself. The easiness of it, how natural and comfortable it is. How the warmth of a dormant love flares somewhere in Eric’s chest because it’s different but it’s not. 

He doesn’t stop until an older woman cuts in asking to get to the flour, and Eric takes a breath. “Goodness, I rambled there,” he laughs. “I suppose things haven’t changed all that much.”

Jack hums, looking at Eric with this unreadable, nearly intense expression that Eric would describe as soft, probably. If he looked into it too much. He’s nearly about to let Jack go so he can go home and panic-bake a pie and call Lardo about this entire day when Jack suddenly says: “Would you want to get coffee or lunch or—or something, sometime?”

Eric falters.

Then he decides that, maybe, this day isn’t a total bust.

[ayashitetsuko]

Stede first saw Izzy on the train as he commuted to work.

Taking the subway was a way for him to feel normal; when you have everything in your life planned by your parents, including your career in finance, you try everything. Sometimes he people-watches. Sometimes he read and checked Hot Dudes Reading. But that day Stede lifted his head to find a man sitting across him, reading. He wore shirt and tie underneath a leather jacket. His vibe was a mix of tidiness and rebellion. He and Stede held eye contact for a moment. They both blushed and turned away.

Unfortunately, Stede soon learned that the man was the cybersecurity consultant that his company hired. And he slammed Bonnet & Co for their meagre cybersecurity practices.

Maybe it was better that they never met again.

Except that days after their contract ended, Stede met Izzy again in a gay bar.

Well. Didn’t expect to see you here

I wasn’t surprised

Really?

Your suit was light blue, Bonnet

Maybe I just like fashion

And I’m here for a bachelorette party

Within hours, they were at a hotel room. They were feral. But the part that touched them the most was the conversation that they had in between.

When the morning comes, Stede asked if he could see Izzy again. You’re not bad was his loud answer. His subtle answer was the personal, non-business contact he added to Stede’s phone.

Three dates and four hookups later, they held hands as they checked out secondhand books at the flea market. And Izzy asked Stede to spend the night at his Brooklyn apartment.

He didn’t usually accept guests.

Stede listened to all the stories Izzy told him about the war, and cried when he spoke about his feet. And how he didn’t hold grudges.

He swooned when Izzy played the piano and sang for him. And taught him more details about techie stuff; he escaped a bad investment because of that.

For Izzy, he did not have a long list. The look of admiration in Stede’s eyes was enough for him to stay. The fact that Stede allowed him the chance to be a (step)father made him believe in their future together.

They were happy. They got along. They publicly referred to each other as “partners”. They met Stede’s kids. They have so many things in common.

Including an ex-boyfriend named Ed.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Just a Taste**

A harryween one shot about an unlucky man and an unfortunate curse! I have been writing this ALL day! LOL This is very different than anything I have ever written in my life, I hope you guys like it!

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: 18+ only! Dark Harry, self-mutilation, Smut with knife and blood play!

Y/N couldn’t put a finger on what it could be, but she just knew Harry wasn’t feeling well. Him sleeping in was an indicator of that, he was a morning person, and now it was 8am and he was still fast asleep, it was off.He was looking a little pale and as she watched him sleep she sat beside him on the edge of the bed and nibbled on her lip as she reached out to feel his forehead, he wasn’t overly hot. As she pulled her hand back he stirred awake. “Morning, love.” He mumbled, his voice was hoarse and deep from his sleep and she smiled at him.

“Morning, babe. You feeling OK?” She asked him with concern.

“I-yeah, just a little weird.” He said and she bit her lip.

“What do you mean weird?” 

“Like exhausted, I feel physically drained.” He grumbled and she creased her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, have been feeling a little sore the last few days, but now I just feel exhausted.” He said as he fluttered his eyes closed again. She rubbed at his shoulder as he just laid there as she thought about what they did a few days ago and she lit up.

“Baby, we went to that flea market a few days ago, remember?” She asked and he hummed tiredly, “Maybe you caught a bug or something?” She asked and he nodded, “Are you hungry?” She asked him and he shook his head.

“OK. Are you gonna stay home?” Y/N asked him.

“Yeah.” He mumbled and she nodded and she leaned in to kiss the top of his head and he stiffened up a bit, which was strange, but she just let it go.

“I love you, I’ll call at lunch OK? See if you need anything.” She said sweetly and he just nodded. 

After a few minutes she was gone and Harry sat up and rubbed at his eyes, this had to be a fucked up dream of some sort. What he told her was the truth, he had been feeling weird and now he felt like did after a vigorous cardio session, he felt like his limbs were jello, almost as if he were dehydrated or starved. And for some reason when she had leaned in to kiss him, with her neck right up near his nose, he could smell her and almost hear the blood flowing through her veins, it made his mouth water and it scared him. 

It had bee happening the last few days actually. Since they went out to the flea market. That night she had made them steak fajitas for dinner and just seeing her massaging the seasoning into the meat made his stomach growl in delight. He passed it off as hunger as they had only shared some fries at the flea market and he was quite literally starved. But then the next day at their bookstore one of their employees cut himself with the box cutter and when Harry rushed over to help he found that he could smell his blood and as he hurriedly wrapped a  napkin around his finger and the blood started to soak into it his mouth watered. He had an urge to just wring out the napkin and taste the blood. He had to call in Y/N to help because that wasn’t normal. Later that night in cycling class he could hear the blood pumping hard and fast through everyone’s veins. Their quickened pulses were like a siren song to him, he wanted to get up close to someone and hear their heart pounding away. Then the next morning while he was shaving he nicked himself lightly above his lip and without thinking he reached his tongue up to lick up the blood that bordered his lip and it tasted so good. He did it a couple times before he decided that he just needed the bleeding to stop and not perpetuate it, but it was a little bit hard to stop. After that little taste his mouth felt dry all the time despite him hydrating, he would only salivate when he smelled blood.

He was scared to tell Y/N, his fiancé about this, how would she react? He had been researching things about what he was feeling and ended up on some subreddit about blood kinks and he knew that wasn’t the answer because it wasn’t arousing him sexually, he just was hyperaware of blood. Then he dared to just google vampires and he went down this rabbit hole of vampirism and curses revolving around blood thirst - that seemed more like what he was dealing with. He even checked his entire body for possible bites or strange marks and he found nothing. During his search for answers he ended up finding a bookstore that specialized in mythical and magic texts  and he decided that he needed to go and see if he could find anything about how to make this go away.

Despite the state he was in he took a hot shower and started getting ready to go out to this book shop. He didn’t feel cold per se, but he felt weak, almost as if he were anemic or had low blood pressure. Being the fall, it was a bit chilly out already so he put on his red corduroy pants, a white t-shirt, he then slipped on his socks and went over to his little jewelry box and slipped on a few rings. Rings were his favorite accessory because he liked that everyone could see them and it was nice and inexpensive to grow his selection since he thrifted a lot of them or got them at the flea market or antique shops. He then went over to the front door and shoved his feet into his vans, tucking his index finger into the heels of the shoes to get them into place. He then shrugged on his black coat and dropped his wallet into the deep inner pocket and he put on his earphones and switched on some music before locking up and heading out. 

Harry took the tube and what a mistake that was, it was packed and despite blocking out the sounds of thumping hearts and blood roaring through people’s veins he could still smell it off a few people nearby who likely had injuries or other things. His grip on the pole he was supporting himself on was so tight that he could feel his fingers throbbing a bit in pain. Finally, his exit was approaching and he hurried out of the loaded train car quickly. Harry mapped his way to the shop from there and after about a ten minute walk he was turning onto a smaller and less crowded street and he could see his destination just down the dead end street. He rushed over and pushed the glass door open, a few jingling bells signaled his arrival into the dark and desolate shop. It had distinct old book smell but it was also mixed in with incense and what kind of smelled like sage. There were shelves of books inside along with other overcrowded tables and displays of knickknacks that those kooky new-age folks believed in. He started walking down one of the aisles between the book cases, looking left to right, he wasn’t even sure what he was looking for.

“Hello?” He called out as he walked in, removing his headphones and stuffing them into his pocket. The wood boards of the floor creaked under his weight. It was a little creepy in here. He heard some creaking an aisle over and he crouched a bit to look into the aisle through an empty space on the book shelf but he didn’t see anyone there.

“How did you find this place?” He heard from behind him and he quite literally jumped in his place and turned around quickly. He felt cold as the wave of fear passed through his body and made his back feel tingly and for his stomach to twist with nerves. His eyes were wide as he took in the woman before him. She was at least in her late 40’s and had visible streaks of grey in her otherwise dark hair. She was wearing these thick-frame glasses that didn’t exactly fit her facial features. She was dressed like she worked as a fortune teller at a carnival and had an array of rings on her fingers, much like him and several crystal necklaces hanging around her neck. Her neck. He zeroed in on it and for some reason he couldn’t smell or hear this person’s blood. He looked perplexed and she looked at him oddly, it put an unsettling feeling in his body.

“Hi.” He breathed out nervously.

“How did you find this place?” She repeated again.

“The Internet, on an online forum.” He said nervously and she creased her eyebrows as she took him in. There was something dark hanging over him, she could see it in his aura, but it couldn’t quite get to him. Harry felt frozen in place, still reeling from the scare she gave him, but  also from the way she was staring at him, studying him. As if she was looking around him and through him and then her eyes widened and out of nowhere she pulled out a little flask and splashed him with water and she recoiled quickly as he scoffed, the water landed on his face, a droplet getting into his eye, making it tear up.

“What the hell?!” He scoffed in irritation as he rubbed his eye and he could see that she looked at him with even more concern and confusion, “What the hell was that?” He asked her and she stayed quiet as she studied him a bit more before she spoke up.

“Holy water.” She responded, still keeping her distance.

“Do you just douse every potential customer that walks in here?” He scolded her.

“Why are you here?” She asked and he scoffed.

“To find a book or something.” He said, “Why else?”

“Something plagues you.” She said simply and he scoffed. He didn’t believe in any of these weird mystical things but this was his last resort right now, “I can see it around you. It’s dark and it trying to consume you, but it can’t.” She said and he suddenly felt nervous.

“Wait, really?” He asked her and she nodded, “It lusts for the essence of life.” She said quietly and his breath hitched, “I just don’t understand why it can’t get inside.” She said as she stepped closer and he froze as her hand came up to hover over his forehead and down his face, neck, and finally his chest and her eyes averted down to it and she saw he had a chain around his neck and she reached forward and untucked it from his t-shirt, a cross. “Vampires can’t go near crosses, did you know that?” She asked.

“I mean, I’ve heard that from films.” He said and she hummed, “They also cannot withstand holy water, it burns their skin like acid.” She said and he frowned.

“You were just willing to risk that by splashing my face?” He asked, clearly upset.

“I saw the darkness that loomed over you and acted defensively before you could attack.” She said simply.

“What? Why would I attack you? Wait. Did you say vampire?” He asked in concern and she nodded.

“The darkness of the curse of blood thirst is breaking through you. It wants to consume you. You can feel it can’t you?” She asked and his throat felt dry again as he thought about the last few days, “Dark and unnatural urges are consuming you, aren’t they? That’s why you’re here.” She said and he nodded.

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered with fear and she shook her head.

“It cannot be stopped. You are strong, but it will consume you eventually.” She warned, “The bite always overtakes it’s recipients one way or another.” She stated and he shook his head.

“There’s got to be a mistake, lady. I was not bitten by anything.” He said and she smiled.

“Blood lusting demons are fast and efficient and their mark is evident even if you don’t recall it happening.”

“That’s what I mean, there is no mark. Anywhere.” He explained and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “Trust me I checked every spot of my body and there it not even a scratch on me.” He said, “But I do have a need to…taste blood.” He admitted.  

“When did this start?” She asked.

“Like four days ago.” He said and she hummed, that was far too long for a vampire bite not to take, “I can smell it and hear it and just yesterday I cut myself and I tried it and it made me want more. It’s…scaring me.” He said quietly. She brought her hand up to feel at his forehead.

“You are not cold. You wear a cross. You did not burn with the holy water, but your aura is clouded with a vampiric curse and you have a thirst for human blood.” She said aloud, “Come with me.” She ordered as she walked past him and he followed her up to the cashier counter, “Wait here.” She muttered and he nodded as she rushed off. Harry sighed and brought his hands up to the counter, his fingers drummed against its surface as he waited nervously. She soon was coming around with several books in her arms and she set them down with a thump. She looked down at his hands resting as if nothing on the juniper and ash wood blended counter, both a deterrent for the undead and a myriad of supernatural and dark creatures. As she looked at his hands she gasped and he jumped yet again in fright.

“Jesus, what?!” He asked, bringing his right hand to his heart, the thumping was hard and fast against his palm.

“Where did you get that?” She asked him with a terrified look in her eyes.

“What?”

“That ring.” She said, pointing with a shaky finger and he frowned as he brought his hand out flat and she pulled it back as to not come in contact with him.

“Which one?” He asked her and she pointed at the gold one around his index finger with a ruby set into the center, “Oh, I got it at the flea market this past Sunday.” He slowed down as he caught on to what she was insinuating, “Is there something wrong with this ring?” He asked softly, as if it could hear him. 

“I don’t know yet.” She said and hurried off to grab another book and rushed back, paging through it and she stopped on a page, “Is there an inscription on it?” She asked and he looked at it carefully before taking it off and looking inside of the band.

“Victoriam omnibus is what it says.” Harry mumbled and glanced up to the woman, she looked at him with a bit of sadness, “What is it?” He asked.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news.” She said and he felt his heart dropping and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat.

“Just tell me, please.” He requested and she nodded.

“That ring is cursed.” She started, “In medieval times legends of vampires started to gain traction all over Europe. They were described as we know them now, blood thirsty, nocturnal creatures, they were free of any plague or disease though, as they were undead.  There is a legend of one man turned vampire, Marcu the Fierce they called him. He lost his entire family to the plague and he himself was dying until he was bit and recovered in full. He believed that vampires were a superior being and that they should attempt to take over the world. But vampires are discrete demons, they live for the hunt. It thrills them to be in the shadows.” She explained, “He ascended to power in his region, hunting in discretion, overcoming in battles with his supernatural strength and using war and violence as his means to hunt and feed. He then invited all vampires in his region to attack all of the humans in their region and overcome them, they declined and did not allow him to take control. This angered Marcu, who was still in power and had great influence. He started killings throughout the region and warned his townspeople again vampires.” Harry nodded along, “Legend says that he killed a young maiden, she was with child and her husband, Tiberiu, was so grief stricken that he wanted to exact his vengeance on all vampires and Marcu decided to use him for his own plans. He taught him all of the weaknesses vampires had and fueled with hatred Tiberiu started to hunt them. Marcu was overjoyed as those opposing him started to to be wiped out, Tiberiu didn’t waste a moment to express his disgust with vampires and he grew arrogant, saying that no vampire would ever escape him, this angered Marcu and he had that ring made. He visited a witch to bestow on it a curse.”

“A curse?” Harry whispered, his entire body was covered in goosebumps.

“Marcu was cruel and twisted. Once Tiberiu had vanquished all vampires that opposed Marcu he said that he would celebrate him, proclaim him victorious over all-”

“Victoriam Ombinbus.” He whispered and she nodded.

“Marcu told him to never take it off, as a symbol of his status and within days Tiberiu became that which he hated most of all. A blood thirst came over him and he became like a vampire. He was not bitten, he was not immortal or fast or supernaturally strong. He could walk in the light, but like you my friend, his need for human blood grew the longer he had that on. In his rage against Marcu, he faced him and Marcu vanquished him drank his blood and disposed of his body, the ring though was lost and you, my unlucky friend, have found that ring.” She said and he frowned.

“So what can I do? I don’t want this! Take it!” He urged her desperately extending it out to her and she cowered back.

“I won’t take it. Whoever touches that ring will be cursed with blood thirst until the day they die.”

“What?” He asked, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach as the words processed.

“The longer you wear it the worse it becomes, the urges are more powerful, harder to control. You become violent and dangerous.” She said and he started hyperventilating. This could not be happening to him, “For the amount of time you’ve been wearing that ring you should have already drank from someone.” She said as she closed the book, “But you’ve been protected from all darkness. My best guess is that silver cross that you’ve got on your neck has been blessed and thankfully has slowed the effect of the curse of that ring.” The woman said and he nodded.

“My mum is very religious and she did have this blessed.” He explained, “Been wearing it since I was 18, I’ve never taken it off.” He said softly, his eyes were tearing up. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now, “What happens now? What do I do?” He cried.

“The need you have will remain this way until the day you die. I’m so sorry.” She said and he started sobbing. This could not be real, he would have a craving for human blood for the rest of his life? What if he held off too long and exploded in a violent frenzy? What if he got a taste and couldn’t stop? What if he hurt Y/N?

“My fiancé.” He whispered to her and the woman looked at him with compassion, “I can’t smell your blood or hear it flowing. Why?” He asked her.

“Protection spells. Glad they work.” She smiled.

“Can you do that for her? For my fiancé? I don’t want to risk hurting her.” He sniffled and she nodded.

“Bring her by whenever you’re ready.”

“OK, fuck…fuck.” He cried again and she sighed.

“These dark forces, they latch to people and I’m not sure if any additional protection will help now, but we can try to get some crystals on you to absorb some negative energy.” She said and he nodded.

“Whatever it takes to help me feel better! Please.” He begged her, “I feel like I am about to collapse.” He shared and she sighed.

“In order to fix that you’ll need to…drink from someone.”

“I can just do it to myself no?” He asked and she shook her head.

“You’re cursed, your blood will not satiate the craving you have. That’s not the point of being a vampire.” She said, “You’ll need to drink from another.”

“No! No fucking way!” He barked and she sighed.

“If you don’t, that darkness will start to consume you from the inside out. This need is part of you now. You won’t become aggressive or murderous like a vampire or like Tiberiu because of that protection, but this that you’re feeling now is going to last a lifetime. I don’t know how long it’ll be before you can go without drinking just some.”

“I can’t kill someone!” He exclaimed.

“And you don’t have to. There are communities that practice blood drinking and vampirism. You can…find one and go as you see fit-” he started to heave and she handed him a trashcan and as he threw up it was just a black color and he started freaking out, “It’s starting. You need to drink.” She admonished and he was panting heavily, feeling even more drowsy than before. What was he supposed to do now? He felt utterly defeated.

On his way home Harry did feel that his need to taste blood had increased, he knew it couldn’t get worse than this, thankfully, but it made him feel weak and dizzy. The woman, who he eventually learned was named was Agatha, had given him an ash wood box to keep the blasted ring in. According to the legend in the book it could not be destroyed, so she recommended that he keep it and be buried with it so that no one else could fall into this curse. He threw up again once he got home and ended up making it into the bed before he passed out.

*********

“Oh my god! Harry?” He heard from a distance, “Harry, babe, can you hear me?” She asked him as he started to slowly blink his eyes open. Y/N was freaking out because she could see that he was even more pale than when she had left him this morning. She had only come because he wasn’t answering his phone and she got concerned and with good reason. 

She was afraid and her heart was pounding hard, he could hear it over her voice as she pet at his face and his eyes met hers with concern.

“Babe, I’m gonna call an ambulance. Don’t worry.” She said and stood to rush over to her purse but before she could leave he wrapped his hand around her wrist to pull her back, “What is it?”

“D-don’t call them. They can’t help.” He said and she frowned.

“What do you mean?” She asked with tearful eyes and he sighed.

“Baby, I have to tell you something.” He panted, it sounded like he was winded, like it was taking every last bit of energy in him to speak.

“Anything. You can tell me anything.” She assured as she sniffled.

“I know, love and I will. But I’m about to ask something of you th-that is going to sound insane but I just- I just need you t-to trust me.” He panted and she nodded through her tears.

“OK, whatever you need.” She urged him on and he exhaled shakily.

“I need you to get a knife from the kitchen and bring it here.” He said and she looked at him skeptically but nodded and stood up. Harry pressed himself up to sit and she soon returned with the knife, coming slowly into their bedroom, “Good. Come sit here with me.” He said and she took him in once more, he looked awful. Eyes sunken in and dark, skin pale and dull. She sat beside him with her heart pounding with fear. Harry could hear it, he could hear her blood pumping hard through her veins, he could smell her sweet scent testing him, tempting him. He grabbed the knife from her and he set it down before leaning in and kissing her deeply. He groaned as he bit down on her lip hard and she whimpered at the harsh bite, he didn’t draw blood though as he was hoping. Biting was harder and more painful as his teeth weren’t necessarily made for tearing into flesh though he had an urge to. He pulled apart from the kiss and breathed heavily again her mouth.

“Harry, you’re scaring me.” She breathed nervously.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered as he pecked her lips once more, “I ummm, I just need a taste.” He whispered and she looked into his eyes.

“Wait what?” She sniffled and he swallow the lump in his throat.

“O-of your…blood.” He said carefully and he could see how her eyes were filled with fear as she searched in his. Was this a joke?

“Harry, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s not, I’m not joking, baby. I need your blood. Just a taste and I’ll feel better.” He said and she glanced down at the knife, thinking of grabbing it but he grabbed it first and she froze.

“Harry, put the knife down.” She ordered.

“I can’t. I need to do this.” He said and she cried harder and shook her head, “Please, just put it down.” She whimpered.

“Baby, I’m not going to hurt you. Please trust me.” He said as he brought his hands to the side of her face, the knife still in one of his hands.

“You’re holding a knife against my face, Harry. I love you, but you’re scaring me.” She spoke with a tremble in her voice.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to scare you but this is necessary.” He said as he reached down for her arm and she tensed up.

“No, Harry!” She panicked as he brought the knife down. She had no idea what had gotten into him or what in the world he was on or what possessed him to do this but she was terrified, “Stop it!” She shrieked as she tried to pull her arm away.

“Baby, please! Please stay still I don’t want to hurt you!” He pleaded.

“You’re holding a knife to me! You’re going to hurt me anyway!” She reasoned.

“Baby, please, please, please-” he begged, “I need to drink. If I don’t drink I’ll die.” He said to her and she frowned in complete shock.

“W-what?”  She stammered as more tears fell. He sniffled and nodded.

“I will explain everything but I just need to d-drink-” he blinked his eyes a few times before he fell back onto the mattress. 

“Oh my god! Harry!” Y/N cried as she pressed her chest to his heart, the thump of it was slow and he looked even more pale than before, “Fuck!” She whimpered as she picked up the knife with a shaky hand brought it just above her wrist. 

She was so scared as she even considered doing this, but she found a smaller vein branch off from the main one running down to her forearm and she was hesitant as she pressed the blade against herself but without giving it another thought she cut in and down, away from the main vein. Immediately her dark, red blood started to break the surface of her skin. It burned but she shifted quickly to get Harry into her lap and she pressed her bleeding cut up against his lips. Despite him slowly slipping out of consciousness and his world growing darker and darker the smell of her blood grew stronger and it alerted him just a little bit more and then he felt it, hot and fragrant against his lips and it was like second nature as he latched to her cut and sucked the blood beading at her skin. She gasped at the force at which he started to suck and her other hand went to his hair. He then brought his hands up and held her forearm against his mouth, keeping her in place as he sucked desperately against the small incision.

“Harry.” She whispered as she felt her fingertips getting a bit cold from the lack of blood getting there. He kept sucking, “Harry, please, stop!” She whimpered and he suddenly snapped out of it and she pulled her arm away and into her chest. He was panting as she looked down at him, streaks of her blood dripped down the corners of his mouth as he caught his breath. But as she looked at him a bit closer through her glossy eyes she saw that he didn’t look pale or dull anymore. He looked back to normal and she scooted away from him with fear and he sat up slowly as she backed away.

“Baby.” He said quietly as he sat up and she shook her head, “It’s not what you think-”

“I think it is.” She whispered as she held her wrist against her chest. Harry then realized that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding or her blood roaring through the veins in her body, he couldn’t smell it as acutely as he had been the last few days, he didn’t feel his throat dry with only one particular craving that could satiate it. Everything was back to normal, “What’s that look on your face?” She asked and he sighed.

“A realization, I can only hear it and smell it when I haven’t had any.” He said more to himself and she bit her lip nervously, “Do you want me to help you with that?”

“No.”

“I’m good now, I swear.” He said and she looked at him reluctantly and she then made her way into the bathroom and he followed. He helped her clean the cut without any issues and bandaged it up for her and then he kissed against it gently, “I’m sorry I scared you.” He said softly.

“You need to tell me what’s going on.” She said to him anxiously and he nodded and pulled her back out to the bedroom and explained everything to her. He explained how now that he had drank he didn’t feel as out of control or weak as he had before. She was reluctant about the curse, but the look in his eyes told her that he was being truthful.

“Baby, I don’t want to hurt you or do this to you ever again, so I think we need to see Agatha so she can put that protection on you and I can’t lust after your blood.” He explained.

“So you’ll drink from other people.” She said and he bit his lip and shrugged, “How long can you go without?”

“Well, today was the fourth day.”

“So every four days?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know how this will work on me.” He explained, “All I know is that there’s nothing I can do to make it stop.” He said and she nodded through her tears.

“I don’t want you to hurt other people.” She pressed and he sighed.

“I don’t have to, apparently there are existing communities that practice vampirism and I can drink blood from those willing get fed off of.” She shook her head.

“This is insane, Harry.” 

“I know. I know, but it’s the truth. I can’t change this and I don’t want to risk losing control and hurting you but I also don’t want to die!” He vented to her and she nodded, “If you…can’t see past this I understand.” He whispered painfully and she frowned.

“Baby, I’m not going to leave you!” she said, “I just…don’t know how I feel about you drinking other people’s blood.” She said, “It can be dangerous.”

“I know that, love. I know. Maybe this is one of those things where with time and practice I can learn to live without it for longer periods of time…”

“I don’t know. With what she was saying about that darkness trying to get to you I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.” She said and he sighed, his face in his hand, she bit her lip pensively for a moment, “You can feed off of me when you need to do.” She said and he looked up at her and shook his head.

“No fucking way.”

“Baby it’s what makes sense. That way you don’t have to find other people to do it and you know it’s safe and I’m healthy.” She said and he sighed.

“Baby I don’t want you to have to keep cutting yourself like that. How are we supposed to explain that to anyone if they see cuts or something?” And she shrugged.

“Knife play? Blood play?” She suggested and he chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re insane.”

“This is insane. We need to get creative because I don’t want you going out there and feeding from strangers!” She said and he bit his lip.

“Does it…make you jealous?” He asked and she sighed but eventually nodded.

“It does. That’s just…not right. You’re gonna suck all over them, leave marks on them with your mouth, taste their blood and then come kiss me? Absolutely not.” She said with crossed arms.

“Well when you put it like that…”

“Yeah, it’s just not…I don’t like it.” She said, “So use me. It’s not your fault that this happened and believe me, baby, I will move heaven and earth to try and help you find a way to keep the urge at bay or even to see if we can somehow undo this curse, but until then the only person who’s gonna have your mouth anywhere on their body is me.” She said pointedly and he smiled a bit, “Stop it. I’m serious.” She said.

“I know, baby. I know.” He assured as he came up to her and kissed her deeply. Slowly, their kiss started to get more heated and in one of those goes she bit down on his tongue and drew blood, making him groan, but they both tasted it against each others mouths.

“S’not so bad, see?” She mumbled against his lips.

“I’m also not going to just hurt you on purpose.” He said.

“Baby, you like a little pain. I like a little pain…maybe we just explore how to take care of your little dilemma under that umbrella of things. S’not like you’ve never made me bleed before.” She said and shook his head with a smirk.

“I know, but I didn’t have the need to taste it before. That’s what’s different.” He said as he pecked her lips again. “Just need to know what we’re getting into before we do something regrettable or that can really hurt you.” He insisted and she nodded.

“You’re right.” She agreed and kissed his lips.

**************

It had been about a week since Harry had drank from Y/N and he was just starting to get the itch for more. He felt great compared to the week prior though and it was lovely to be back to normal. But when he woke up on this day curled up into Y/N’s back, face in the crook of her neck he could practically smell her though her skin. He wasn’t even thinking about it as he kissed into her pulse point and then he parted his lips and started to suck. He added more pressure and that woke her up, it hurt a bit and she reached her hand up to his hair.

“Baby.” She gasped and he hummed as he pulled her hips flush into his, “Too hard.” She huffed as one of his hands slithered to her front and rubbed her clit over her shorts and she moaned softly.

“Need to have a taste of you.” He mumbled as he released her skin for a moment. 

“OK.” She hummed and he inhaled her scent, he could smell that she was turned on too and it made him also want a taste of her pussy. Maybe she had been onto something when she suggested mixing his new need with their sex life. She bared her neck and he kissed her once more.

“Can I get the knife?” He asked and she bit her lip nervously and nodded.

“Yeah, go get it.” She said and he rushed out of bed and returned shortly after with a paring knife. She fully expected him to crawl back up towards her but instead he went straight for her bottoms, tugging them down in one go and parting her legs before delving right in with a relieved groan. 

His tongue licked up from her entrance to her her clit where he started sucking and she writhed and thrust up against his mouth with her fingers woven into his hair. So much of the blood in her body was rushing down to her pussy, making her sensitive and swollen with arousal he started flicking at her clit quickly until she was tensing up and he suddenly pulled away as she caught her breath after nearly reaching her climax. 

“Fuck, please more!” She whined and he smiled.

“Don’t worry, baby I’ll make you come.” He assured as he kissed at her thighs and blindly reached for the knife he had set beside her and gave her sopping folds one more lick before he knelt up fully and leaned down to kiss her lips and she lost herself in it until she felt the cool blade of the knife at her throat and she stayed still, her heart pounding hard and fast as he leaned back and hovered over her. He could hear how nervous she was, but the scent of her arousal was even stronger and he smiled at her, “You like this, don’t you?” She bit her lip and nodded, “Such a kinky and freaky little slut.” He hummed as he skimmed the back of the blade down the valley of her breast very lightly. He watched as he skin broke out in goosebumps at the sight tickle of the knife over her skin. He went lower and sucked each nipple until it was stiff and peaked all on it’s own and he then brought the knife back up and tapped at her right nipple with the flat face of the knife’s blade and then the left before skimming it back down her body as he kissed down her tummy. He pulled back to kneel fully again and was very careful as he tapped at her throbbing pussy with the flat face of the knife blade like to her nipples and her breathing completely halted, “Breathe, baby. Y’don’t trust me?” He asked and she nodded.

“I do.” She whispered and he hummed.

“Open wider for me, baby.” She did as she was told and he bit his lip, “God, you’ve got the prettiest, little cunt.” He praised and she bit her lip timidly, “Stay perfectly still.” He said looking into her eyes and she nodded, her breathing suspended as he brought down the knife to her entrance horizontally dull side rested right beneath her pulsating little hole. Harry hummed as he watched her arousal drip onto the knife and after a few moments he brought it up to his mouth and carefully stuck his tongue out to lick at the blade and he hummed as he savored her taste. “Absolutely delicious.” He whispered to her and she smiled, “Now I’m gonna get a taste, OK?” She nodded meekly, “Gonna cut right here. OK?” He asked as he ran his thumb along her inner thigh.

“OK.” She whispered and he leaned back down and placed three kissed in a row where he intended to leave a little slice and she once again was holding her breath as he brought the knife down and made a small incision. She gasped at the slight sting of it and he tossed the knife over to the empty side of the bed before he got his mouth over the cut. He smoothed his tongue over it and tasted the first few drops of her blood before he got his lips around the patch of skin and sucked to draw a bit more out. As his mouth did this he then ran his index and middle fingers through her pussy, slicking them with her arousal before plunging them all the way in, in one go. Y/N moaned as he curved them up to her her g-spot and rubbed rhythmically, making her stomach knot up in the most delicious way. Her fingers knotted themselves into his disheveled curls and her breathing started to become irregular as he picked up his pace. “Oh fuck, baby! Oh fuck!” She gasped as her orgasm started to build. 

After a few moments of drinking he pulled away from the cut on her thigh and licked over this ruby stained lips. The taste for blood was gone, but now he had a taste for her, so he sucked her clit into his mouth and got to work. Her toes curled as a heat spread through her entire body and lit every single nerve on fire. Her back arched and her legs trembled as he moaned against her pussy, doing his best to get her to come. After a few moments she gasped before she let out a loud cry of his name as the muscles of her pussy starts squeezing and spasming around his fingers as she came undone. He moaned into her hot and soft skin and slowed down gradually until she had been properly worked through it. He pulled away with a kiss to her mound and another to the cut her left on her thigh. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and she giggled tiredly, “That was so good. Really liked that.”

“Yeah?” He asked and she nodded with her lip bitten between her teeth.

“Can I return the favor?” She asked and he hummed.

“Gonna patch you up and then I’m gonna fuck you. So fucking hard for you.” He said as he let himself down to kiss at her lips and she hummed.

“Wait. C’mere.” She said and he leaned back over as she pecked his lips and glanced down to the little bit of blood that had dripped down to his chin and she sucked it between her lips to clean it away and she smiled up at him, “Just a taste.” 

[the-badger-mole]

For the Days When You're Not Yourself

The day began disastrously. First Katara woke up later than normal, which meant she was scrambling to get breakfast started before Zuko and Aang finished their morning meditation and training. That task was interrupted by the frantic arrival of Sokka to tell her that Suki was sick and needed to be seen to immediately.

Fortunately, Suki wasn't in any serious danger. She would be bed ridden for a few days and the others would have to stay away from her to keep from spreading whatever she had. Excepting of couse Sokka, who had volunteered to care for her, and Katara, who would inevitably be called in to alieviate Suki's physical symptoms. Suki had also thrown up in her bed during the night, so Katara gathered the soiled sheets, adding a surprise laundry pile to her to-do list.

Once she had Suki settled and left her to the care of Sokka, put the sheets in the wash basin to soak, and gotten herself cleaned up, she returned to the kitchen to find Toph, Aang and Zuko finishing up thier breakfast. There was barely enough congee left for half a bowl. She stared at the nearly empty pot in shock.

"What happened?" she asked turning to her friends. "I made double what I normally make." Toph gave a sheepish shrug, and Katara saw that both she and Aang had taken the largest bowls they could find.

"We were hungry," Aang said apologetically. Zuko's brow drew down in consternation.

"Sokka said that you had set aside a bowl for yourself already," he told Katara. She sighed and rolled her eyes hard. She had set aside some breakfast for Sokka and Suki, having decided that congee would be gentle enough for Suki's sensitive stomach. Sokka had helped her carry the food to Suki's room in fact, but somehow had missed the fact that his sister had only made two bowls, not three. He must have spoken with the others while Katara had been busy and told them to help themselves to breakfast. Katara took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden stinging. It was a misunderstanding. Her friends hadn't meant to be inconsiderate.

"You can have the rest of mine." Aang shyly held up his bowl. From where she stood, Katara could see the syrupy sheen of the sugar he'd dumped into his bowl. Katara hid a grimace. How he could stand to eat something that sweet, Katara would never understand. She sighed and shook her head.

"It's fine," she said, gesturing towards the pot. "There's enough for me until lunch." Speaking of which, she would have to make a stop in town if she was going to make sure there was actually something to make for lunch and dinner. And Suki would need medicine. And while she was out, she should see if she could find something for Momo's fleas. The lemur didn't seem to mind a readily available supply of snacks in his fur, but they were beginning to attack Appa and it wouldn't be long until they made their way into the rest of the villa.

"Hey." Katara was surprised to find Zuko standing in front of her. He frowned with a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Katara nodded. "It's just been a hectic morning."

"I'll handle the dishes," Zuko offered. Katara smiled gratefully and accepted the offer. Zuko found a bowl and scraped the rest of the congee out for Katara. It was even less than she thought, but, she reminded herself philisophically, she'd gotten by with much less. Toph and Aang finished their meals and then Toph dragged Aang away for his earthbending lesson. Katara managed to get two bites of her own breakfast down before Sokka rushed in asking for a bucket or pot or something in case Suki got sick again. Her breakfast was laid aside and forgotten in her scramble to make sure that she made it to the market before she had to train Aang that afternoon.

Lunch was as big a hurry as breakfast. Katara realized she'd forgotten about Suki's sheets, and she wanted to see that them before they got mildewy. After she'd thrown together a quick lunch and saw to the sheets, Katara went to train with Aang. To her utter frustration, he was messing up on basic techniques. Techniques she had spent weeks correcting him on. Today he seemed to have forgotten everything and needed her to adjust his stance and show him how to hold his arms. She tried to be patient, but her irritation bled through anyway.

"Are you practicing on your own?" She snapped somewhere through the second hour. "The comet is less than a month away. This is not the time for you to be lazy."

"I-I am practicing," Aang stamered, his face bright red.

"Oh, it's very apparent how much work you're putting in," Katara snorted sarcastically. "I can't teach you any of the advanced forms until you get the basics down. Just because you've technichally mastered waterbending, it doesn't mean you don't have to practice. This is the last time I'm going to go over stances with you. Now, put your dominant arm here, and you opposite foot here!" Katara stood behind Aang and moved him into the correct position. Aang flinched at her unusually rough handling, but he did as he was told, and by the end of their training session, Katara was nodding in approval as he went through the foundational stances. Her face was set hard, though, and Aang hurried away from her with his shoulders hunched and cheeks flushed in exertion and embarassment.

Katara's anger didn't fade after the training session. If anything, everything seemed to be conspiring to aggravate her further. Toph and Aang were laughing too loud. The sun was too bright and too hot for this late in the day. Suki had kicked Sokka out because his overly enthusiastic care was making it impossible to sleep, so he decided a better use of his time would be to pester his sister about medicine and teas. Zuko had offered to make dinner, which rubbed Katara the wrong way, as if he didn't think she couldn't handle something as simple as getting dinner on the table. The final straw, though was when she went to go gather Suki's sheets from where she'd left it to finish drying and found that Momo had decided they were there to play with. They were in a heap on the dusty ground and Momo was frolicking in them in all his flea-ridden glory. Katara startled all of her friends to the porch with her enraged shrieks and demands for Momo to stop ruining everything. Aang hurried over and gathered his frightened companion into his arms.

"He was only playing, Katara," he said, reproachfully. "You don't have to be so mean!" Her anger spiked with a frightening flash and momentarily stole all power of speech from her. She pointed to the sheets now in a heap on the ground.

"You're washing those," she hissed at Aang. Then she turned on her heels and stormed inside the villa. A moment later, her friends heard her bedroom door slam shut.

Katara could sense the others tiptoeing around. She couldn't explain how she knew with such certainty that that was what they were doing, except maybe there seemed to be less noise than normal. It didn't matter. She would spend the evening in self-imposed exile as much to give herself space to calm down as to not further subject her friends to her touchy temper. Guilt was a distant, but distinct presence in her mind. She would feel the full weight of the shame of her outburst later, but right then she was just tired. Her limbs felt heavy, and her head throbbed at her temples. She had been fighting tears for the last quarter hour, but she didn't know why. A good cry actually sounded pretty good just then. She had just decided to run a bath and let her emotions out in the priviacy of the luxurious tub when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

"Zuko." Her brows shot up in surprise. She had been expecting her brother, or maybe Aang, but Zuko stood in front of her with a sheepish smile.

"I just wanted to check on you," he said.

"Wanted to make sure I'd finished my breakdown, you mean?" Katara sagged against the door frame with a sardonic smile. A faint wash of pink colored Zuko's neck and face and he shook his head quickly.

"N-no!" he stammered. "What happened out there...listen, from where I'm sitting, it was totally warranted."

"Yeah?" Katara's brow shot up in surprise. "Even yelling at Momo?"

"He knows better than to play in clean laundry," Zuko shot her a smirk. "Aang's washing the sheets. I told him he can't have dinner until he's finished. I figure he should be done by midnight. Oh, speaking of dinner-" Zuko motioned down with his eyes and Katara noticed for the first time that he was carrying a plate of dried fruits and a couple of pieces of toffee.

"This is dinner?" Katara asked, wrinkling her nose dubiously.

"No," Zuko said. "But dinner might take a while to finish and..."

"And?" Katara prompted him.

"It's probably none of my business, but have you eaten today?" he asked. The concern in Zuko's eyes almost staggered Katara. He must have taken her silence for annoyance because he scrambled to add, "I just mean you only had a couple of bites of breakfast, and I didn't see you have lunch. And I know when I'm hungry, I can get a bit...tense." The day passed through Katara's mind, and she realized he was right. She hadn't eaten.

"Thank you." Her voice was unusually small as she accepted her pre-dinner meal. No one ever noticed when she got too busy to eat. She barely noticed. The knowledge that Zuko not only noticed, but thought to do something about it-

"If you want," Zuko started hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I can handle dinner. You know, just so you're not doing all the chores every day."

"Dinner?" Katara repeated.

"I'd offer to take breakfast, but training Aang ends too late-"

"Zuko." He stopped mid-sentence and bit the inside of his lips. Katara set her plate aside and squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. Then she threw her arms around Zuko's midsection and buried her face in his chest. He stiffened in surprise, but quickly gathered himself and wrapped his arms around her. She was shaking a bit, and he tried not to notice the light sound of sniffles coming from her.

"Thank you," Katara said finally. She pulled away, wiping discreetly at her cheeks and smiled at Zuko.

"Any time," he found himself smiling back. He rocked back on his heels and cleared his throat. "I should- uh- I should go get started on dinner. I can bring you a plate."

"I can join you guys," Katara protested weakly. Zuko shook his head and waved her off.

"If you don't feel like it, it's fine," he assured her. "Besides, it's good for us to miss you every now and then. Remind everyone how much we need you and all."

"Oh..." Katara felt her cheeks heat up. The thought of spending an hour or two in that gorgeous bathtub instead of dodging her friends' awkward silences and tiptoeing sounded wonderful. "Yeah, I'll think I'll hang out in here. Thanks."

"I'll be back later with your plate." Zuko turned and started heading back towards the kitchen. Katara leaned against her doorframe and watched him leave.

"Hey, Zuko," she called when he was halfway down the hall.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you know," Katara's mouth slid into a grin. "You're stuck with me now. If you keep being this helpful, I'll never let you go." Zuko grinned back at her.

"Sounds okay to me."

[spilledbeans116]

Flea market day

Saw this and grabbed it just for giggles and almost shit my pants at the price

In what world is this NORMAL

[roo-bastmoon]

Remembering Nana today...

Interestingly enough, it was my 93-year-old grandmother who sort of led me to BTS. Today is the second anniversary of her passing, and my rambles about that are under the cut.

So, just to give you a visual: my Nana was a lot like Rose from the Golden Girls but, like, not in any way a ditz. She was a very practical Capricorn, but she looked and spoke a lot like Betty White from that show.

Nana practically raised me. I spent literally every weekend with her, from the day I was born until my parents divorced and we moved away when I was 13. Every Friday, my folks would drop me off at her apartment, and she'd make me homemade mac and cheese for dinner and vanilla ice cream for dessert (I did NOT like to try new things). Then we'd watch Full House, Perfect Strangers, Golden Girls, and Empty Nest on TGIF. After that, it would be bath time and bed.

Fun side note: I was an extremely independent and stubborn only child. So I always insisted on bathing myself. Not wanting me to drown on her watch, Nana would sit in the bathroom with me and read me poetry while I played with my Tub Town toys. But the poetry would always be the most macabre stuff--like The Spider and the Fly, or The Wreck of the Hesperus. I am not saying I was scarred for life by this, but I'm also not saying I'm normal, either.

Anyway, those were our Friday nights. On Saturdays we'd get up at the crack of dawn to go flea marketing with her two younger sisters. She would give me $1 to spend on my "trashy treasures" -- but it was the 80s, so I could make it stretch. After that, we'd all go to a buffet lunch. Then she'd take me in the afternoons to the local library, where I would pick my books for the week.

Another side note: My parents were not big on buying toys, but I could have any books I wanted. As a young kid, I used to take a flashlight and hide in the bathtub at night so I could read past bedtime. I figured I was being super sneaky because they couldn't see the light coming from that room. But we lived in a tiny house with only one bathroom, so of COURSE they knew. Mom told me years later that they thought it was funny I was being rebellious by secretly reading YA novels in the bathroom when I was in elementary school. Nana, of course, let me stay up as late as I wanted to read. I digress.

As the years passed, even when I went out of state and the country for school, or moved across America to take jobs, Nana and I emailed every day, called once a week, kept in constant touch. When I moved back to my home state 13 years ago, I sort of became her caregiver and weekend companion.

This time it was my turn on the weekends to make her food, take her shopping, drive her around, get her books from the bookmobile. She raised me, and then for 10 years, I took care of her.

I loved my Nana. She was funny and soft-hearted and well read, but she grew up *dirt poor* and never got to see the world except through books and the TV, so she was always very humble and a bit shy. She loved me so much--she was the only person in the world who would listen to me drivel on about anything, and still be interested.

At 93-years-old, she died of a sudden heart attack on August 30, 2021. Emergency personnel were with her in her apartment, so she wasn't alone or in pain very long, but I couldn't get to her fast enough to say goodbye. Mom and I identified her later, at the hospital.

I am grateful she had a long life, and didn't suffer, and wasn't alone. But my family is very, very small. Just Nana and Mom and me. And after the whirlwind of taking care of her funeral and packing up her apartment and donating everything, suddenly there was just all this free time--these empty hours I usually filled taking care of Nana.

I just was so lost.

I started trying to read, or quilt, or watch movies. I got into some K dramas for a bit. Nothing really interested me. Then I started watching dance compilations on YouTube before bed.

And one snowy December night, I found a Steezy video where Brian Puspos was reviewing Jimin's dance style. I had no idea what it was. It was like this weird impulse--as if someone moved my finger to hover over and click that video...

You cannot imagine how every nerve-ending woke up. My brain suddenly came online. (I was a semi-pro ballet dancer as a kid, and I knew the absolute second I saw Jimin that he was a master who trained relentlessly--nobody had to point it out to me.)

For the first time in months, I FELT something other than grief.

I watched every single video of him I could. I had no idea who BTS were, didn't know anything about Kpop. But eventually I found more videos, I listened to their songs, and later I discovered Jikook, and I made online accounts and I watched RUN episodes, and I got to go see Yoongi as my first-ever concert, and now I'm making my way through In the Soop and Bon Voyage.

In fact, pretty much every day since I discovered Jimin, I've been thinking about, learning about, and trying to support Jimin and the people Jimin loves.

Jimin and BTS got me through the grief at losing the person I loved most in the world. They saw me through uterine cancer, and the surgeries, and mourning the fact that I can never be a bio mom now. They got me through the medical tests and the chronic fatigue and pain I've had for the last 4 months.

I really love our boys. I may not understand or love everything about them or their company or their industry, but loving someone doesn't mean thinking of them as demi-gods; it means being loyal even as they grow past any flaws.

To be honest, I feel like I owe Jimin my life, in a way. I was in a really, really dark place a year and a half ago. Jimin was the only joy, the only reason to keep going (besides my mom and kitties, of course).

Now I own every digital release BTS has put out--the whole discography, even the skits. I try to vote on all the apps whenever I can, and stream on premium family bundle accounts for Spotify, YouTube, and Pandora; I also do free trials for Tidal and Qobuz. II've never done any of this stuff before, never been a fan of any musicians, but I really, truly do try to return the favor.

It's a bit hyperbolic to say they "saved me" because lots of people cope with grief and illness and loneliness and it doesn't mean they just throw in the towel.

But BTS helped me stop surviving, and made me want to really live.

Plus, even when I'm too sick to go out or call up my friends, I can always get on my phone and come here, to chat with my fandom friends. I don't know most of their real names or faces or anything about their real lives, but we all love BTS; we all talk about and work together for BTS.

Nana would have loved that. (She also would have let me talk her ear off every day about Jimin and Jikook and the Tannies because that was her love language.)

Is BTS a replacement for real, genuine human interaction? No. Of course not. It is, at the end of the day, a band. Not a life.

But it also feels like getting to know 7 people I'd be honored to be friends with, if we ever met. People I want to support so they can achieve all their dreams--because they always pay it forward, too.

I sometimes wonder if Nana guided my hand to click on that video that day. Maybe she was looking down at me and thought "Ah, this will be good for her. This will be healing."

Probably not, but still, I'd like to think that. I'd like to think it was Nana who led me to the Magic Shop.

I miss her. I love her. I still can hear her voice in my head every day.

But I'm gonna be okay. (The future's gonna be okay.)

There's still so much to look forward to and work to be done. Fighting!

[untitled5071]

yo idk if you're still taking requests but could you write a smth about Lisa taking the creature to see a ballet. i had this realization that the creature died before Tchaikovsky was even born and i think it's criminal that he never heard of the nutcracker, swan lake or even the 1812 Overture (where Tchaikovsky used actual cannons 💀). it could be any of his ballets btw ^_^

You had me at Tchaikovsky, I played violin for ten years and he's one of my favorite composers, though I've never seen one of his ballets, a mistake I'll have to rectify soon. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

It was a gift for both of them, really.

As a general rule, they were very big on date nights; every day they were together was bliss, but they loved finding new things to experience together, new ways to celebrate the strange second chance at life they were given.

Luckily for them, the smallish city they had settled in after Brookview offered a plethora of activities, from checking out different restaurants, going ice skating in the winter and having picnics in the park in the summer to walking around different craft fairs and farmer’s markets to examine the wares of local artisans.

They thoroughly enjoyed every endeavor as long as they did it together, but by far one of their favorite things to do was attending concerts and dances, their shared love of music and dressing up for special occasions making those dates extra meaningful.

So when Lisa surprised her husband with two tickets to a traveling ballet troupe’s production of Swan Lake, neither could contain their excitement at the thought of the upcoming event.

Creature had discovered Tchaicovsky’s work after he had found a book of sheet music in a thrift store while they were shopping for new clothes, and he had spent the next several days learning as many of the pieces he could on the keyboard Lisa had bought him for their anniversary. The sound wasn’t nearly as good as it would have been on a proper grand piano, but it sufficed, his talent overcompensating for the poor quality of the instrument. Lisa loved to dance to it, and when the event was announced, she knew it would make the perfect date night for the two of them.

But first, they had to get ready.

They stood together in front of the cracked mirror in their rented apartment (Lisa insisted it stay that way, since it ‘reminded her of old times’), Lisa applying a pale shade of foundation to cover her more stubborn burn scars and her husband adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket, humming one of Tchaikovsky’s more nationalistic works-a piece called “Marche Slav”-to himself as he went. Lisa joined in, and though the rhythm was mostly wrong, her husband beamed and sent a praising smile her way.

She caught his eyes, and neither of them could resist leaning in for a kiss, one of those several they already had and would continue to share that day, just like every day since Lisa's resurrection.

They parted from their kiss, and Lisa giggled when she realized some of her foundation had rubbed off on her husband's chin, and she reached out to wipe it away with a thumb, cupping his cheek as she did so.

“I don't think that's really your shade, honey.”

Her husband smiled, holding his hand on Lisa's to keep her there for a moment before releasing her and letting her continue her cover-up job.

Normally they wouldn’t bother; they were both proud of the physical quirks that came with being the living dead and city folk had a tendency to overlook things. But since they were going to be out with the refined public, they both chose outfits that would cover their more….inhuman traits, with Lisa donning a long black velvet dress and opera gloves, and Creature opting for sleeves that covered the stitches on his right wrist and a hairstyle that covered his left ear.

Once they deemed themselves ready, they posed in front of the mirror, Lisa taking a picture with a Polaroid camera she had purchased second hand at a flea market. She waited for it to develop before hanging it up on the designated photo wall in their miniscule living room, covered floor to ceiling in polaroids from different date nights over the years, their smiling faces looking down on them from all angles, all reminiscent of other nights spent enjoying each other's company.

Like the others, this night promised to be a wonderful one.

Neither of them felt particularly hungry at that moment (a consequence of being undead and also their pre-show excitement) so they walked to the theater with Lisa hanging off of Creature's arm, the two giggling and speculating about what they were about to see all the while.

The lobby of the theater was crowded, and the couple clutched each other close as they shuffled their way through the mass of bodies. They skipped the massive drink line and the somehow longer one for the women's restroom, and they presented their tickets to the usher, who showed them to their seats.

They were at the front of the balcony, and Creature helped his wife into her seat like a proper gentleman before he took his own, and he leaned into her space as they read the same program, their heads resting together as they looked over the extensive list of performer and crew names.

Lisa looked up at her husband, a twinkle in her eyes.

“It looks like we're in for quite the treat tonight.”

Creature smiled back, nuzzling his nose against hers briefly.

“Any night we spend together is a treat, my love. This one just comes with a show.”

Lisa giggled, but she didn't have time to respond before the lights dimmed and the first round of applause started, which both of them joined. The curtain rose on the stage to reveal a yard outside of a castle where a grand party was taking place, numerous dancers moving to Tchaikovsky’s jovial score in perfect sync. Lisa ‘ooh’ed quietly under her breath, and Creature’s heart swelled as his wife scooted up in her chair slightly, wanting to be closer to the performance.

The festivities continued, the prince was given his weapon and as he ran into the woods after the flock of swans, Lisa rested her head on her husband's shoulder, lacing their arms together as they settled in to enjoy the rest of the performance.

As expected, the music was impeccable and the dancing was breathtaking, and by the time the titular waltz began and the enchanted swan maidens began their graceful steps, both undead lovers were fully entranced in what they were seeing, their full attention turned towards the stage, though Creature did keep sneaking glances at the hidden orchestra pit and wondering what it would take to be a part of one.

Before they knew it, the show ended, the dancers receiving well-earned and rapturous applause during their final bows. Lisa and Creature were on their feet with the rest of the audience, and when the crowd began to disperse, they sank back into the plush red armchairs of the theater while they waited for the waves of people to leave and make their own exit easier.

And, as they usually did to pass the time, they talked.

Creature immediately launched into a passionate tirade about the orchestration and skill of the people tasked with delivering it, throwing around musical terms Lisa didn't fully understand but nodded along enthusiastically to anyway, delighted to hear that her husband had adopted her penchant for passionate ramblings.

“--and the violins in the Allegro giusto were absolutely phenomenal, the dynamics were–what’s wrong, Dove? You're thinking so loud I can practically hear it.”

Lisa chuckled distractedly, falling silent for a moment and staring at the stage. He ducked his head down to hers and placed a finger under her chin to turn her gaze his way, but all worry about what she was pondering over dissipated as she blurted out,

“Would you still love me if I was turned into a swan?”

He couldn't help it; the bluntness of her farcical statement made him chuckle, and the adorable pinch of her eyebrows wasn't helping matters. He pulled her close, holding her to him and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Of course I would, darling, I would love you in any form. If you were turned into a swan I would move to the lakeside so you could swim happily, and I would read you poetry as you did. I'd help you chase away anyone you wanted to terrorize–because let's be honest, my love, you would be an absolute menace–I would find you the best things to eat that you could still digest and, if that still wasn't enough, I would find a way to get myself turned into a swan too so we could be together that way, since I never wish to be apart from you, regardless of the measures I would have to take to do so.”

Lisa watched him deliver his impassioned answer with wide and lovestruck eyes, and the last words were barely out of his mouth before her lips were on his, and she was kissing him with an endless gratitude and adoration.

And of course, he reciprocated in kind.

By the time they parted the crowd has mostly cleared out, giving them an unobstructed path towards the exit. Creature got up first, stretching a bit before offering his arm to Lisa with a wink and a fond smile.

“Shall we go, my dearest? I do believe there is a warm bed waiting for us at home, as well as a keyboard that is dying to be played.”

Lisa blushed and took his offered limb, slipping her arm in the crook of his and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Lead the way, honey.”

They left together, still linked by their arms and chatting quietly amongst themselves as they continued to absorb the wonderful experience they had just had.

As they passed under the lights of the theater marquee and turned in the direction of home, Creature leaned down and kissed Lisa's cheek, savoring the blush that blossomed across his wife’s face.

“What was that for?”

He smiled, his eyes soft and tender.

“I just wanted to thank you for this night, my beloved Lisa. I'll never forget it, as with all of the time we spend together.”

She hummed affectionately and squeezed his arm tighter as they strode down the city street in tandem.

“No, thank you, darling. I can't wait to see what we do for the next one.”

[aita-blorbos]

(Canon Characters, Fanon Scenario)

AITA for not wanting to lose a video game on purpose?

I (50s M, deceased) am the founder of a well-loved fast food restaurant in my town. I dedicated my life into developing the best burgers in the world; they even taste better than wine!

Some time ago, my son (16 M) somehow got it in his head that noodles were better than burgers - honestly, the nerve of this boy - and went and replaced all of our burger patties with noodles! This was so outrageous that it brought me right back from the grave to show him what for! And I did, with the help of a bright young man we'll call P (17 M). Apparently P was a local hero even at the time, although I'm not quite sure what he had done, on account of me being dead at the time. But I digress.

What I didn't know was that my son had bigger plans; apparently, he had managed to get his hands on some sort of cursed video game (presumably at some kind of flea market; I'm pretty sure that's where kids get cursed video games these days), and was trying to use it to conquer the world by turning everything into noodles! He even tried to noodlize my store! Thankfully P managed to talk some sense into the boy, but still!

That video game is very important to the story here; you see, in order to turn things back to normal, P would have to defeat five opponents without losing himself. The only problem was that this game could only be played with two players, and whoever lost would be cursed to only eat noodles for the rest of their days. Naturally, since my business was in danger, I nobly volunteered for this task.

The problem comes some time later; apparently, one of the other volunteers, a man named T (Presumably Adult, M), had just returned from going missing - apparently he was framed for my son's actions, though that was the first I'd heard of it - and he wasn't handling the whole curse thing well. Apparently there's a major side effect to this curse: If you refuse to eat noodles, your body will start noodlizing until you do. And since T is a carnivore, he was in a lose-lose situation.

So, the other four volunteers were discussing playing that game again in order to rid everyone of their curses; but obviously, one of us had to keep it, so they would have to lose all four matches.

Naturally, I tried to help, suggesting C (Adult M) or G (Adult M), since the former is a plant and the latter doesn't need to worry about his diet. But then, all four of them suggested I do it! Just because I'm a ghost! What is with these people!?

Even if I'm dead, someone still has to test the recipes for any new burgers we make, and since my son has some sort of issue with burgers, obviously I need to be able to eat to do that!

But none of them listened, and the last one, M (Adult F) even said she heard from her boss that this whole mess was *my* fault! Just because I'm the one who did the cooking in my house! It's not my fault that some kids I don't know decided to be rude to my son about it!

Anyway, AITA for not wanting to be the one to do this?

[littlesstorietime]

Daddy wasn’t kidding….

When daddy and I started talking, he said he was going to start small, and dream big. And boy did he.

Another usual weekend day. Go to the flea market, do last minute errands, things that typical adults to! Even if I’m padded while doing so…

After all errands were complete, we were on our drive home. I was strapped into my car seat, with no control since daddy put my mittens on for throwing a tantrum at Walmart since he wouldn’t get me a hot wheels, only a Barbie doll instead.

“Sweetie, you have been quiet, is everything ok?” He asks, knowing I’m not happy.

“Take these stoopid things off!” I say shouting through my paci.

Daddy does nothing, other than shake his head “Ah, ah, ah, sweetie. You know you aren’t to throw a tantrum, and now you are paying the price!” He says, making me squirm in my seat. I was trapped.

The drive felt like it took forever, but I realized we were going home. Strange since we had other errands to run.

We pull into the driveway, and into the garage. Daddy undoes the snaps to the seat, and carry’s me into the kitchen.

“Ok pumpkin, you stay right here, I’ll return in a second.” He says as he turns and walks away.

As he does, I immediately think about the potty. How I needed to use it. I urgently rush to the restroom and relieve myself, as fast as I could to not get caught.

Good news, I was safe (don’t tell daddy)! But as I was walking back to my spot, I noticed it. Through the doorway of the nursery. Was that a…

“Oh sweetheart. I wanted to show you myself, but it appears as you have seen it.” Daddy says arms crossed at the end of the hall, knowing what I had just done.

I couldn’t say anything, I was frozen. I could hear him walking down the hall, and all I could do was stare at it.

He reaches my side and directs my head to meet his.

“Let’s go have a look sweetie. Come on, daddy’s got you.”

Edited/continued!

As I walk towards the machine, I know what’s about to happen. I stop before it, and daddy stands next to it.

“Ok sweetie, crawl to me so I can undo your onsie and your diaper.”

I couldn’t move, other than me nervously shaking.

“Awe, sweetie, it’s nothing to be scared of, lots of little gurls like you use these.” He says with a cheerful tone.

“B…. But I’m a boy daddy… and that’s meant for REAL girls….” I plea, but know where it’s going.

“Sweetie. I know you say that you are, but how long have we had your little clitty locked away in it’s little prison cell? I think 6 months of being caged says otherwise honey.” He says with an evil smile.

“Daddy!….. it’s not my fault…. You won’t unlock me!” I shout, immediately regretting it.

“ENOUGH! Now, crawl over. 1” he demands.

I look down at my knees, thinking of a way out.

“TWO!” He says with a more angry tone.

I crawl to his feet, as if I’m waiting for a uppies!

He crouches down to my level, undoes my onesie, removed my diaper on one side, slides it down to my knee.

“Ok sweetie, let’s get you in position.” He says, with a big smile.

There I was, fully babied, and still caged, getting lined up for a thrusting machine….

“Daddy?” I ask.

Yes sweetie?” He replies.

“C… can we take the cage off?” Considering he normally does when he touches my bum.

“Not this time sweetheart. You need to learn that you are a baby, and babies don’t touch themselves. Only daddy does. Now, I have lubed it up, and time to do your end.” He starts rubbing my back side down.

“Ok sweetie, nice and slow, let’s get you back.”

He guided my back door to the tip, and slowly pushes me onto the machine. I whimper from it stretching my backside, which daddy smiles.

“Good gurl, babies already liking it? I haven’t even turned it on!” He says cheerfully.

Second, what felt like days, later, I hear a click. The machine sprung to life, and it went balls deep first thrust.

“It’s on a 20, minute timer, and you aren’t allowed to stop until I say. Also, don’t ask to slow it down, it’s and auto setting. Have fun sweetie. I’ll go make you a bottle for after!” He says while getting up, walking to the door, locking it, and leaving the room.

20 minutes of bum stretching, cage leaking hell….

—————————————————————————————

This is my real toy :) plan to make more things with it!

[foundtherightwords]

The Simple Thought of You - Chapter 2

Pairing: Billy Knight x OFC (Esme from "The Quiet Chaos")

Summary: Billy and Esme have been dating for nearly two years, and naturally, their thoughts turn to the next step in their relationship. But when it turns out that their future plans may not align, can they reconcile their differences and stay together?

Warnings: angst, discussion of children and being childfree, mentions of mental health issues, non-explicit smut (in this chapter)

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Things went back to normal after that—at least on the outside. There was no more talk of kids. But Esme felt something had changed in their relationship, and not for the better. In the following months, she noticed—or thought she noticed—little things in Billy, things that perhaps had always been there but only now become clear, now that she knew he wanted kids. Whenever they babysat for Priya, or when they saw a family with children during their walks, she would catch Billy looking almost envious or wistful, if not downright dejected, as he watched the parents and kids interacting. Then he would catch her eyes and quickly look away, while the needles of guilt pricked and prodded at her again.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they could talk about it, but it seemed Billy was trying to avoid her. He had taken to stay later and later at the studio, saying he had some big project to finish, but was strangely evasive when Esme asked him what the project was. At home, he was rather distracted and would sit at his table for hours, whittling and carving something, only to discard it with a frustrated huff.

Worse still, their two-year anniversary was coming up, and Billy made no mention of it. Granted, they didn't have an "official" anniversary—neither could remember exactly when they'd started going out, only the general month, so both had agreed to have the day Esme officially adopted Angua as their anniversary. Not just because it was conveniently written down, but also because it was the day Esme finally asked Billy out—though they had been seeing each other for a while before that—and after all, Angua was the one that brought them together, so it felt only right. The previous year, they hadn't done anything special, only recreating their first date—the successful one—with a picnic, but Billy had been the one to remind her. Now it was as if he didn't even remember.

Esme knew that Billy's condition made it difficult for him to concentrate and remember things, especially when he was stressed, but she couldn't help wondering if the changes in his behavior had anything to do with their recent discussion—she wouldn't call it a row, exactly. She'd never dream that Billy could cheat on her, but her ex-fiancé had cheated and the wound remained, if not in her heart then at least her pride, and it made her wary.

On the day of the anniversary, a Tuesday, Billy came home—late, as usual—with some roses and a quick kiss and an absentminded "Happy anniversary" for her, which, if anything, actually made Esme feel worse. She'd rather he completely forget than have him go through the motions without putting his heart into it. But she didn't say anything, didn't want to be the needy, entitled girlfriend, didn't want to put more pressure on him than what he already had to deal with.

The following weekend was a Bank Holiday. Esme was a homebody, and Billy didn't like crowded places, so on Bank Holidays, they preferred to stay home or have a poke around at a flea market or an antique shop. That day, however, Billy suddenly asked Esme if she felt like taking a trip.

"To where?" she asked, trying to sound interested.

"It's a surprise."

"Billy, you know I don't like surprises! What are we going to do there, what's the weather like, what should I wear—"

Billy laughed, unfazed. "The weather looks fine, you can just wear that dress you're wearing, and we're going to have a picnic—among other things. Look, Angua's excited already." The little dog saw Billy pick up the picnic basket and was up from her bed in a flash, her tail thumping like crazy.

"That's because she knows the picnic basket means food!" 

"Come on, it'll be fun."

There was a wild glint in his eyes, but it was different from the feverish look of his hypomanic episodes, whose signs and symptoms Esme had learned to recognize, and he was smiling too, an eager little smile like that of a kid with a secret. Esme felt her heart soften—for the first time since the wedding, things between them seemed back to the way they used to be—so she smiled back and helped him pack the basket.

They went to Paddington and took the 1:50 train to Bristol. When Esme asked, rather mystified, if they were going to Bristol, Billy only said enigmatically, "Not as far as that." An hour later, as the train pulled into Swindon, he signaled to her, and they got off.

It was one of those days when the weather couldn't seem to make up its mind and kept shining a little and raining a little until everybody was thoroughly irritated. Now Esme stood on the platform, blinking in the watery sunlight of late August, while a million questions ran through her mind. What were they doing here? Billy grew up not far from Swindon. For a moment, she wondered hysterically if he still had family in the area and was going to introduce her to them. But no. That was impossible. The only family Billy had left was Jimmy, and he was still in prison after trying to attack them a year ago, good riddance.

Before she could raise a question, Billy had flagged down a cab. "To the Horse, please," he told the driver.

Esme froze, staring at Billy in shock. The Horse—the White Horse of Uffington—was where Billy, as a child, had witnessed what he thought was a murder, a traumatic, horrific incident that had haunted him for the rest of his life. When they first met, he hadn't even been able to talk about it. He had gotten a lot better since, but even so, he didn't like to mention the Horse. Yet now he was taking her to it! What was going on?

"You'll be going to the Scouring then?" the driver asked, as he pulled out of the station.

"That's the plan, yeah," Billy replied. "We still have time, you reckon?"

"Oh, plenty. They'll be going until four."

Esme remained quiet, too perplexed for words. She had seen the Horse once before—her family was big fans of Discworld, pretty much the only thing they had in common, and the Horse was featured in one of the books, so when Esme was about twelve, shortly after the book came out, her parents had taken all four kids to see it—but she had no idea what the Scouring was.

Soon enough, the familiar figure of the Horse appeared, stretched out like a white ghost on the green hills on their right. Even from this distance, Esme could see that the hills were dotted with colorful spots—people. She glanced at Billy. He was swallowing with difficulty and kept wiping his hands on his jeans. The oddly childish gesture went straight to her heart, and she reached over, took his clammy hands in both of hers, and gently rubbed his knuckles. He smiled at her, briefly but gratefully.

By the time they arrived at the foot of the hills, the sun had finally decided to come out in full force, and the clouds were clearing up, showing the pale blue sky above. The cab dropped them off at the car park, where people were crowding around a table, like some sort of signing-up station. Billy pulled Esme toward it.

A rotund, rosy-cheeked woman, looking like she could be a dead ringer for Discworld's Nanny Oggs, beamed at them. "Good afternoon, dearies," she said. "Here for the Scouring?"

"Yes," Billy said. "Two, please."

"Capital! Here's your instruction and assigned section"—she gave them a laminated sheet of paper, with a chart of the Horse printed on it—"and there's your gloves and your kneelers, and you can pick up your chalk and hammers over there. You've got half an hour, and once you're finished, just drop everything off here. Ta!"

From the hills above came a steady sound of soft tap-tapping, and Esme finally understood what it was—hammers breaking up the chalk so it could be worked into the surface of the Horse, cleaning and refreshing it.

They joined the line of people climbing up Whitehorse Hill. Volunteers were handing out buckets of white chalk and hammers. Since Esme's hands were full with their picnic basket and Angua's leash, Billy picked up two of each and led them toward their assigned section. Esme set their picnic basket down on the grass and wound Angua's leash around the handle of a chalk bucket so she wouldn't run away, not that there was any danger of it—the dog had sniffed the chalk and the hammer with great interest, and was now sitting down to watch them work. Kneeling on the provided pads, they started hammering away at the chalk, only stopping occasionally to clear away the grass that had poked through the old chalk.

The work was harder than it looked—the hammer was heavy, and it was difficult to spread the chalk smoothly and evenly. So they worked in silence at first, though Esme kept stealing glances at Billy. He was bending over the chalk with the same concentration he had with his woodcarving, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Was this why he had been so nervous and secretive lately? Was it because he had been planning this trip, working up the courage to return to his hometown and revisit his painful past? When Esme imagined how much effort this must have cost Billy and how he had chosen to share this important occasion with her, all her irritation with him over the past few months vanished. But even as her heart brimmed with love and affection for him, that voice in her head was still whispering its poison in her ears. Look at how far he's come, how much better he is. He doesn't need you. He deserves someone that will let him be a father, someone that will make him happy...

"So this is the Scouring of the Horse," she said to Billy, to drown it out.

"Yeah." Billy nodded. "I'm surprised you didn't know about it."

"I don't remember it being mentioned in the Tiffany Aching books at all."

"I've always been afraid of the Scouring when I was a kid," Billy said. He looked up for a moment, his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the town of Faringdon was just visible. "I thought all that bashing and hammering were going to wake the Horse up and it would come for me."

"Oh, Billy," Esme said, voice cracking.

"It's all right." Billy flashed her a reassuring smile. "I'm all right now. You know, from far away it may seem scary, more like a dragon than a horse, but up close it doesn't look like nothing at all. Just lines of chalk on the grass."

After their half-hour slot was over, they returned the buckets and hammers to the volunteers and filled in the horse chart to show which section was complete. Esme's arms ached, her back was sore, and her dress was dusted with chalk, but she felt peaceful, the peace she often felt after a good workout or a thorough cleaning of the flat, satisfied with a job well done. She and Billy were amongst the last to finish. While the volunteers cleared away the hammers and buckets of chalk, they returned to the windy hillside, took Angua for a walk along the path, and sat down by the Horse's neck, overlooking Faringdon, to have their picnic. Some people lingered as well, but when the sun started to dip below the hills, they all went off, until the car park was completely empty.

Even then, Billy showed no sign of wanting to leave. He sat in silence, gazing at the town beyond the hills, which had started to lose its colors and outlines under the gloaming, a distant look in his eyes. Esme, guessing what was going through his mind, said nothing either. If Billy wished to tell her, he would, in his own time. So she put her head into the crook of his shoulder, held his hand, and sat with him. The only things that moved around them were the wind and the grass. Even Angua had gone to sleep, curled up between the Horse's neck and front leg, exhausted after a whole afternoon of excitement.

When darkness finally descended on the hills, and the lights of Faringdon started twinkling to life below them, as did the stars above, Billy turned to Esme. "Do you want to go up to the eye and make a wish?" he asked. There was a slight tremor in his voice. Esme knew why—the eye was the very spot where the supposed murder had taken place.

"We don't have to—" she began, but he tugged at her hand.

"But I want to," he said, and Esme let him pull her to her feet.

Bending their heads against the rising wind, they clambered up the hill and stood on the chalky eye of the horse. There wasn't nearly enough room, so they had to squeeze together, her face pressed into his neck, his arms tight and warm around her.

"All right, now close your eyes, and turn clockwise three times," Billy said.

Esme did and felt Billy's arms move so he could do the same. They stumbled against each other, and both opened their eyes. She giggled quietly against his neck. The wind blew the sound away.

"What did you wish for?" she whispered.

"I'll tell you in a minute. You?"

Esme realized she hadn't made a wish. It felt silly, and she'd been too caught up in the moment to think of anything. But now, looking at Billy, at his eyes glowing softly in the starlight and his little smile, and feeling his warm embrace around her, she knew what she would've wished for. "This," she said. "The two of us, like this. For always."

Billy exhaled, as though he had been holding his breath, and his smile got wider. "Then I'm sorry, but you've wasted your wish," he said.

"How?" asked Esme, baffled.

"Because we'll always have this. It's a guarantee. No need to wish for it."

Her heart swelled, squeezing her throat and pushing tears to her eyes. How could she have doubted him? How could she have let her insecurities drown out her love for him? He loved her and would always love her. She was enough.

While Esme looked at him, unable to utter a word from all the emotions swirling in her heart, Billy brushed a tear away from the corner of her eyes and said, "That's why I brought you here today, you know. I know you weren't really convinced when I said you're all that I need. So I wanted to show you. Without you, I would never be able to come back here." His voice hitched. He swallowed, and continued, "For too long, I've been afraid of this place, of all those memories... But not anymore. Now I want to make new memories here, happy ones, with you, so I can remember it with joy and—"

He didn't get to finish. Esme threw her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him with all the pent-up fears and longing of the past two months. Billy responded in kind, tightening his hold around her, bringing her closer, his mouth pulling at hers until she felt like she was going to melt in his arms from the sheer heat of his kisses. And when he paused briefly to take a breath, she did melt, her knees having gone so weak that she ended up sinking to the ground. Billy didn't pull her up. Instead, he knelt down with her, covering her with yet more kisses, not just her lips but her neck and shoulders and breasts as well, his mouth like a furnace over the fabric of her shirt. She yanked impatiently at the buttons and guided him to the triangle of bare skin underneath her collar, gasping when he lightly nipped at it, the bite sending a lightning bolt that went straight through her and settled at her very core, making her pant as he kissed his way further down. She had never known him like this. In bed, he had always been passionate but gentle and shy, needing her guidance to show him what she wanted, what she liked. Now he was still gentle, but there was a newfound confidence in his touches and kisses and movements that intoxicated her, even more than the illicit thrill of being out in the open. 

Her back hit the grass. Billy went down with her. With each hand behind her knee, he lifted her legs to hook them over his waist.

"What if someone comes along?" she whispered into his mouth.

"Then that would be one hell of a memory, wouldn't it?" he grinned.

She laughed as well, but her laugh turned into an excited gasp when he settled himself between her legs. To feel him there, his heat, his hardness, so close and yet so far away still, was excruciating, and she only waited long enough to fumble with his jeans, before squeezing her thighs close, bringing him to her.

The first stroke of their bodies coming together drove all doubts from Esme's mind. Then Billy picked up the pace, and there, on top of Whitehorse Hill, while the wind murmured through the grass, blowing cool on her skin but unable to chill her, not when his mouth and his hands and his whole body were keeping her warm, the voice in her head was silenced at last, and she believed that she was enough, that this was enough, more than enough. And then pure pleasure exploded through her and light burst behind her eyelids, joining the glittering stars in the night sky above and the gleaming of his eyes in a constellation of bliss.

Afterward, Billy lay down on his back while Esme nestled against him. The wind was getting colder, but the hilltop remained quiet, save for Angua's snuffling in her sleep, and neither felt inclined to move. Esme threw an arm over his chest and laid her head on his shoulder and thought she'd never felt so close to anyone before.

"I'm sorry, Esme," she heard Billy say.

"For what?" Esme propped herself up to fix both her and his clothes, and to get a better look at him. "For involving me in the desecration of a national monument?" she said with a cheeky grin.

He grinned back. "If anything, I'd say we've consecrated it," he replied. Then he sobered up. "No, I mean sorry for the past couple of months. I've stressed you out with all that talk about having kids and made you feel like you're not good enough—"

"No, no," Esme interrupted, squeezing his fingers. "You don't have to apologize. Or, rather, if you are, then I apologize too. I should've just believed you when you said you didn't mind not having kids." She put her head back down on his shoulder with a sigh. "I'm thinking I may need therapy to deal with all these problems. It's not fair of me to make you bear the brunt of them."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Billy said. "About therapy, I mean. Not the other part. I would bear anything for you."

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair, which had come loose from their tumble, behind her ear. His fingers brushed down her neck, caressing the hollow of her throat, where a silver pendant in the shape of the Horse nestled. In the starlight, his face looked so dear, so tender, that she couldn't help leaning over to kiss him, gently at first, then again, not so gently this time.

"Hope tonight was memorable enough for you," she whispered, pulling back.

"Maybe we can make it a bit more memorable," he said.

She looked at him, not understanding. Billy, still holding on to her hand, got up on his knees and rummaged for something in his pocket. "Thank God it didn't fall out while we were—" He blushed crimson and pulled at her wrist. "You have to stand up if we're to do this right."

"To do what right?" Esme asked, mystified.

And then she saw the ring box in his hand.

"Oh," she breathed out.

She scrambled to her feet, but when she stood up, her shadow fell across his face, and she wanted to look at him, never wanted to take her eyes off of him, so she hunched down again, and they ended up in an awkward half-sitting, half-crouching position, facing each other. What happened next was a blur. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, so she couldn't really hear what Billy was saying. Tears dimmed her eyes, so she couldn't really see him or even see what the ring looked like. But the warm grip of his hand on hers and the sweet kiss he placed on her lips told her all she needed to know.

"Now do you believe me?" he asked.

"Yes—yes—yes," she sputtered. She didn't know whether she was answering this question or the other, more important one, but it didn't matter. He knew what she meant.

Esme didn't even know why she was so emotional. It isn't the first time I got proposed to, for God's sake! And last time she'd responded just as enthusiastically. She realized back then she'd only wanted to get married, it almost didn't matter with whom. But it did matter now. It mattered a lot. She didn't just want to get married, she wanted to marry this man who had just slipped the ring over her finger and was gathering her into his arms, laughing and crying with her.

Their noises woke Angua up, and the little dog ran over to them, yapping and licking their faces, not knowing what was going on but sensing excitement in the air and wanting to join the celebration anyway. This made them laugh, and in the fuss over Angua's antics, Esme's tears finally dried. Still, it was a while before she calmed down enough to look at the ring, and when she saw it, a new flood of tears threatened to blur her eyes again. It was a ring made out of dark, polished wood, carved into the shape of a rose vine, with a blooming rose in place of the stone. She could only imagine how much love and care Billy had put into each delicate petal of the rose, each dainty leaf, each exquisite curve of the vine. If it hadn't been for the dark color and the small size, she would've sworn it was a real rose.

"Do you like it?" Billy asked anxiously.

"This is what you've been working on all those nights at the studio, isn't it?"

"Yes." He looked at her with a sheepish expression.

"You idiot!" She slapped his chest, though she was not really angry with him anymore, hadn't been since that afternoon, the moment she realized where they were going. "Why didn't you say anything? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." He caught her hand and kissed it. "I wanted it to be a surprise. I've never worked with anything so small before, so it took a while to figure out the right sort of wood and the right tools. I know it's not a traditional ring, but—"

"No, I love it," she said, and now it was her turn to lift his hand and kiss his calluses. She had always loved them, but now she loved them even more, because each of them was evidence of his love for her. She wouldn't care for a traditional ring anyway. "But—are you sure?" she asked, suddenly frightened. "Are you sure you want to get married?"

"I don't want to just get married," he said, pulling her to him for a kiss. "I want to marry you."

Those words, the exact same thought she'd had just a moment ago, went straight to Esme's heart, renewing her tears. "Let's get married tomorrow," she said with reckless abandon. "I don't want a big wedding, and I know you don't either. Let's just go to a town hall and have it be done with."

Billy stared at her. "Who are you and what have you done to my Esme?" he said in mock consternation, but all she heard was the easy way he said "my Esme". It set her pulse fluttering. "You don't want six months to plan? You don't want a ten-page spreadsheet so you can have the satisfaction of crossing things out?"

"Stop it." She laughed and smacked his shoulder, and he caught her with another kiss, a long, lingering one, and there was no more talk of wedding planning that night, there on Whitehorse Hill or on the late train home.

Epilogue

A/N: The ring Billy carved for Esme is based on this. It's by Giles Newman, an amazing woodcarver/sculptor - do check out his other works. They're pretty much how I imagine Billy's works would be like.

[rhythmantics]

Do you think Xander, Alex or Dana enjoy desserts? If so what do you think they like/don’t like? Also what hobbies do you think Xander and Dana have outside their jobs? Sorry I love the smallest and most frivolous of details about characters I love to think about the kinds of things they enjoy it’s fun to me

Dessert:

Xander: Hates sweets. He eats 99% cocoa powder dark chocolate and it is NOT fair trade. Fuels up on sugar only as needed to reach carbohydrate goals. Would not turn down dessert in a social setting, but would rather order a second appetizer or entree in private.

Dana: Likes sweets a normal amount. Would prefer pizza over cake. Eats 80% cocoa powder dark chocolate and it IS fair trade.

Alex: Can and will eat pure sugar straight out of the bag. Even in his lowest-energy form, he has a massive caloric requirement, so he packs away anything high in fat, carbs, and protein. Pretty much a garbage disposal.

Hobbies:

Xander: He has kept his hobbies secret, even from his siblings. Why he feels the need to do this is a mystery even to him. He's a workaholic, so he doesn't take MUCH time off work, and Dana knows he likes to get up at ass o'clock AM and go work out, nearly every day. If you ask Dana, she mentions that he likes hard rock, grunge, punk-type music, and likes to watch horror movies. These aren't really hobbies so much as sometimes he can't be working out or regular working, and he needs something to pass the time. Since she can't be assed to wake up in time to go work out with him, she doesn't know that he practices parkour/gymnastics as part of his workout stuff. This is less "fun" to him and more a way to expunge the murderous energy that builds up in his body so that he doesn't flip out on his coworkers/subordinates. If he couldn't regularly slam his body against concrete and brick walls, he would probably start actively physically harming people. Karen noticed the random injuries he'd sustain and he'd pretend it was from doing kickboxing instead. Problem with martial arts is they're not solo sports and workout time is alone time for him. This is also why he hates going to gyms despite holding a membership. To practice, he has several favored quiet, run-down alleyways where no one else goes. I hope the impression you walk away with is that he is in serious need of therapy.

Dana: Mostly concerned with making ends meet while juggling college and work, Dana also spent a lot of her time just working. Both Mercer siblings are very driven and goal-oriented people. Had she the free time and money, she'd probably be a party girl. Clubbing, recreational drugs, dancing. Xander hammered safety into her head from a super early age, and they have their mom to look to as an example, so she wouldn't wind up in heavy drugs (or even heavy drinking - she's not a straight-edge like Xander is, but she's not a huge fan of alcohol. Weed is her drug of choice) or crazy flings. She just likes the dancing, the music, the people. She'd be into all kinds of weird, on-the-street art stuff - indie concerts, pop-up galleries, flea markets. She'd probably get into owning snakes or bugs, something low-maintenance and kind of creepy. The woman-about-town, always trying new things, going to new places, making new friends, (hustling them out of money), rinse, repeat.

Alex: He likes to run really fast in self-imposed obstacle courses and try to beat his best time. Or climb up somewhere really high and try to land within 5 meters of a round landmark.

[cinewhore]

To the Ends of the Earth (1)

Pairing: Lara Croft & Marcus Pike (Tomb Raider AU)

Rating: Mature

warnings: mentions of postpartum depression (not in full detail). All clean otherwise. 

Summary: After obtaining a seemingly normal piece of art from a flea market, Marcus Pike enlists the help of an old friend in tracking down its origins. They both get more than they bargain for. 

A/N: an repost. I really have some bangers stored in my google docs. I obviously love putting Marcus Pike into situations. Credit to the gif maker. Divider by @saradika​

Lara tightens the straps on her tact vest, keeping her breathing steady. She had easily become outnumbered and the enemy was moving in quickly.

“Lara, what’s your position?” Alex’s voice crackles over her earpiece. She looks over her right shoulder, scanning the empty garden for any signs of movement, to which she found none.

“I’m behind the shed.”

Alex clicks his tongue. “Not a good place to be, you’ve got to get out of there.”

Lara keeps her weapon close to her chest, counting in her head before making a dash across the yard.

“How many are there?”

“Hm...I’m counting five.”

Lara shakes her head. “That can’t be right.”

“You want to do my job?” Alex sasses her, a cocky grin plastered onto his face. Lara ignores him, continuing her stealth mission to get to safety. Everything started out just fine but somewhere along the lines it became more hectic. In order for Lara to succeed, she was going to need to keep a level head.

Settling behind a tree, Lara tenses as she hears the familiar sounds of footsteps trailing her. They were coming from all around her, she cusses herself silently. The bastard was right. It was do or die.

Lara takes a deep breath and shoots out from behind the large trunk, gun held confidently in her hand. Five were aimed right back at her.

“We've got you surrounded, you know.” One voice says matter of factly.

“Five to one. I like those odds.” she smirks, tilting her head.

“On my count, I say we blast her!”

Lara tuts. “Oh come now, that’s not necessary…”

They don’t care, raising their weapons in unison. The leader yells out. “On my mark,”

Lara shifts in her stance, nervousness setting in.

“Get set...GO!”

Lara screams out as she gets drenched with water, firing back in one last chance of self defense. As her attackers pile on her, she falls to their advances.

“Oliver! Tessa! Please put the toys away and leave your aunt Lara alone.”

Ginny calls the kids over, letting them know it was time to eat. The children snicker and roar in success, hollering out their victories. They all scamper over, eager to stuff their faces with pizza. Marcus kisses Ginny once and leaves her to regulate the festivities along with Hillary.

Lara waltzes over, admiring the scene. She shakes some water off of her, splashing Marcus lightly. “It seems like yesterday they were teething and biting everything.”

Marcus chuckles, swirling around the beer in his bottle. “Well, we still have one more to go.”

Right on cue, the tiny infant strapped to his chest gurgles, kicking her feet around freely. Lara leans over and runs a finger along the baby’s cheek, garnering a laugh.

“You think Ginny would be up for more?”

Marcus smiles bashfully, a certain fondness in his eyes as he watches his wife handle the kids with ease. “We’ve talked about it but this last one was a bit hard. I haven’t mentioned it but she’s been dealing with postpartum depression with Ava.”

Lara hums. She enjoyed watching Ginny and Marcus grow together, remembering the days where Marcus would go on and on about how much he liked his real estate agent until Lara prompted him to make a move. He wasn’t as confident as he was before the disaster with Teresa took place and it definitely took some reassurance that Marcus was more than capable of asking Ginny out before he actually did.

Ginny was helping Marcus look for a new house since the one he agreed on with Teresa had fallen through. Small banter turned into flirtatious conversations which led to dinner dates. Lara had to admit that she didn’t see him being with someone like Ginny, a bubbly real estate agent who was also a micro lifestyle influencer on instagram. They completed each other.

A year after meeting, they got married and discovered during their honeymoon that they were expecting. What was meant to be one addition to the newly formed Pike family became two, the doctors were unsure exactly how they managed to miss the second baby for so long. You could never miss them now, as loud and rambunctious as they are.

The twins were a handful but Marcus enjoyed becoming a father. Lara was appointed as the favorite aunt who spoiled them tremendously, sending them many gifts from her travels. Marcus later asked her to be the godmother of his children, knowing that if anything should happen to him or Ginny that she would do everything in her power to make sure that they were taken care of.

Ava wasn’t planned but she was happily welcomed nonetheless. It was then Marcus decided that he was done with work and retired early, settling on becoming a full time stay at home dad while Ginny continued to work. Their schedules worked out perfectly, allowing them both to be home for extended periods of time to enjoy the kids.

“When are you going to give our kids some playmates?” Marcus teases, bumping shoulders with Lara.

“Over my dead body.” she snorts, side eyeing her friend. “These three are more than enough for me. Besides, you forget that I take care of Alex as well.”

“He still living in a trailer on the lot?”

“Of course.”

Ava cries out, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

“Uh oh, looks like someone might be a little sleepy.”

Lara observes Marcus as he sways gently, attempting to put the fussy baby to sleep. “If you want, you can put her down in the library. It’ll keep her out of the heat and I can stay in and watch her.”

“That sounds great, I’ll grab her bag from Ginny and meet you inside.”

Lara looks up from her desk as Marcus enters the room, the baby bag colliding with his leg as he walks. Ava remains strapped to his chest and he moves in a calculated manner in order to lay out her sleeping pad.

She smiles softly to herself, gazing on as Marcus makes sure Ava is comfortable before leaving her side.

“You’re a good dad.” Lara muses. Marcus blushes, nodding to Ava.

“She makes it easy.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He shrugs. Lara raises an eyebrow, returning her attention back to some documents Hilary left on her desk neatly. Mostly having to do with the estate, maintenance, the likes. Boring stuff.

Marcus clears his throat, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. “While we’re here, I got something you might like.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm, I found this at the flea market the other weekend. I wasn’t looking for much but this caught my eye as I was walking by a vendor. The young man selling it didn’t speak much English, he did manage to tell me that he was tasked to clean out his great-great grandfather's attic and found this. Figured it could be worth something.”

Marcus hands Lara the phone and she holds it close to her face, brows drawing in tightly as her eyes scan across the screen.

It was a large artwork, piece of an epitaph, that was covered in detailed work. There were many scenes within the one piece, many stories unfolding for the world to see.

“It looks to be from the 15th century, missing the other two panels. I contacted a few folks down at the office but we weren’t able to find who the artist was.” Marcus grabs the phone from Lara, looking at it again. “Looks...Dutch. That’s a gut feeling.”

Lara chews on her bottom lip, deep in thought. In a flurry, she glides over to a particular bookcase, fingers roaming along the spines until it stops. She brings the book back over to her desk, pushing the papers out of the way to make extra room.

She flips through it quietly, landing on a particular page. “Marcus, how would you feel if I told you that what you just showed me has been missing for thousands of years?”

Marcus sighs. “Well for twenty two bucks it sure as hell didn’t feel missing to me.”

Lara flips the book over, showing him the page she has bookmarked. “It is the epitaph of the old gods. An ancient relic that protected the Umrah people for centuries. It is said to hold valuable secrets, texts from the hidden world, and so on.”

“So..it’s magic?” Marcus muses. Lara scoffs.

“History.” She takes a second. “It is something my father has been obsessed with his entire life. He thought that the Umrah held the key to a portal, a portal which he could use to discover where my mother went.”

Marcus grows quiet, contemplating on what to say. “Lara, you know-”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “It’s ok. You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“Do you really believe in this?” He points at the images in the book.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Hillary bursts into the room, feet squelching across the tiled floor. He was soaked from head to toe but still remained professional. “Miss Croft, you have guests arriving.”

“Christ, Hillary, you’re soaked.”

“I was put up for execution.” he says plainly.

“Guests?” Marcus looks to Lara. “It’s a bit late for extra guests.”

“They are not here for the party, I’m afraid. At least, I don’t think parents escort their children to a birthday party in a three car all black SUV convoy.”

Lara smiles. Hillary knows this smile all too well. “Well, Marc, shall we move this party inside?”

He nods.

Hillary hums, turning on his wet heel to leave but stops midway. “Oh, and Mrs. Pike wanted to relay the message to you about the water guns.”

“That is?”

“They’re fucking despicable.”

Marcus barks out a laugh. “Attagirl.”

[kidfrombridgeport]

There is a line I ride sometimes in Virginia that snakes along the James River up to Clifton Forge and into Kentucky. I usually get off at Lynchburg. The first time I got off here, it was raining. I found an abandoned building that was formerly several floors of businesses near the tracks and made plans to take cover for the night. Inside I found rooms of old computers, children's art work, and books of all kinds. I spent a few hours going through these books and ended up ripping out the illustrations that I liked with plans to draw them, or my version of them on trains.

I have a friend who knows things that I call Master Splinter and she told me I better catch the midnight train back the other way because I might be there for a few days. So I did and the bed I made for the night lay vacant. I rode back the other way and spent a few days painting these drawings on old grainers and coal cars with a little brush at a stop line near a creek and a fire pit my friends built called, "Possum Skull".

I went back to the abandoned building two other times a year or so later and slept there and repeated the process of finding images and putting them on the rails.

This led to me trying to find tiny libraries, flea markets, old bookstores and sometimes libraries throughout my wanderings and do the same. Today I found a German book called, "Die Regulatoren in Arkansas". I don't normally like ripping the photos out. I usually just take a photo and leave it behind but it was around freezing today and these pages were almost crumbling in my hands.