#like my own little miracle to make me try that little bit harder to get closer to Him

[muslimah-312]

Was having a lot of problems with this one machine at work today, me and these two other guys, were trying our best to fix it before it got too busy. It’s been like 20 minutes and it still wasn’t working despite me (and the other two but one had to go home and the other stayed and watched bc he’s new) trying everything. Then the last time I took a deep breath and said ‘bismillah’ and with His blessing, alhamdulillah it started working again 💕

[dollfacefantasy]

Hey girly, love ur writing!!! could you do a leon x fem reader and they are doing the deed and there are other people there are they are tryna stay quiet 🤭🤭 like i lowk imagine leon being kinda needy but idk! thank u girl!!

thank you so much and ofc, here's a little drabble for this <3

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, exhibitionism (someone else in the room)

"Leon. Be quiet. He's gonna wake up," you whine, taking extra care to keep your voice lowered.

"I'm trying, baby. Not my fault you're so fucking tight," he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You had picked up your boyfriend and his friend Chris from the airport earlier that day. It was a long drive. Apparently their sectors of the government didn't have the competence to drop them a little bit closer to where you lived. You had insisted on just driving through the night, but Leon and Chris were exhausted. They wanted to stretch out on a bed and pass out for the night. Even if the hotel you'd come across only had one available room left.

You feel another moan about to seep from Leon's lips. In an effort to prevent this, you dig your nails into his forearm which was over your chest. His hand rested on your throat, giving him leverage to continue plowing into you from behind.

The little crescents do nothing to silence him and only serve to turn his low pitched moan into a needy whine.

"Leon, shut up!" you whimper.

Your eyes are locked on Chris as your boyfriend ruts into you. His hips smack against your ass, but he's not going fast enough to make any disturbing noise.

"Hush, honey, he sleeps like a fucking rock, trust me," he whispers.

He aims to reassure you with some wet kisses behind your ear. You knew this was wrong and that you should've protested. If Chris did wake up, you'd be humiliated and guilty. But fuck, he just felt so good.

His cock keeps sliding into your soaked cunt just right. Each stroke hits another mark of pleasure. It was a miracle you were able to keep some semblance of composure. To keep yourself quiet, you clutch the blankets in your fists though, so hard it nearly pains you. Leon didn't have the same discipline. This entire time his panting and whimpering drips right into your ear. The noises were among your favorites in the world, always guranteed to make you squirm.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he coos upon hearing no further protests, "Just relax for me, babydoll."

The thought was a persuasive one. You could feel yourself beginning to melt into the crisp hotel sheets just like how you would in your own bed at home. Half of your face presses against the pillow case. His hips never stop moving beneath the blankets. He couldn't get enough of your velvety warmth wrapped around him.

As you feel yourself starting to build to that sweet release, you see Chris start to shift. Your eyes had been locked on him the whole time, preparing for this exact scenario. Panic floods your mind. Had he been awake since the beginning? Had he been watching? Was he pissed?

Your heart pounds even harder against your ribcage as your fingers release the blanket and return to his arm.

"Leon!" you gasp.

He can tell from the infliction in your tone that it's not a gasp of ecstasy. His thrusts come to a screeching halt. His eyes that were half-lidded with a combination of lust and fatigue open a little more. He spots the same movement you did.

Fairly certain it was some usual tossing and turning, he pulls you closer to his chest and nuzzles the side of your head.

"Stay quiet, babe. We're gonna be fine," he whispers even quieter than before.

The two of you do exactly that. You stay still and silent. It was kind of nice, the calm feeling of just being full without any sparks of pleasure. But Leons arm begins to move.

Your eyes dart down and watch his limb slither below your t-shirt and up to your breast, taking one of the warm mounds in his hand. He just rests it there as the both of you continue to pretend to sleep as if he needed to feel more of you. Being buried inside of you just wasn't enough to sate his desire.

As soon as Chris has settled facing the opposite direction and you're both confident he's fast asleep, Leon begins pumping his hips again. And with the return of the movement, comes the return of his noises. He grunts, groans, mewls. Anything he needs to in order to spur on his own release.

You just let him this time without any complaints, figuring he may finish and get you to finish a bit faster with the lack of bickering.

His cock begins to pulse within you. As his thrusts get sloppier and a bit more erratic, you know the end is near. Your hand delves down between your legs, pads of your fingers rubbing at your clit a little to give yourself that extra friction needed to join him.

He cums first. His hips stop, pelvis flush against your backside. At first, you're sure he's gonna wake someone. His noises are only a little louder, but they're much more frequent. You feel him spill every drop within you as he shoots rope after rope. You're not far behind and cum a few seconds later. Your legs twitch as your walls clamp down around his already sensitive length, drawing more needy sound from him.

While the two of you come down, he murmurs into your ear. His words are all breathy from the bliss that had just entered his system.

"Christ, angel. So perfect for me," he says with a small kiss to your head.

You reciprocate the affection, but some anxiety still lingers within you.

"You really think he didn't hear?" you ask, looking up into his eyes for reassurance.

"No way. We're clear," he says, granting your wish before grinning at you, "Besides, if he did, I'm sure he'd enjoy the show."

Your eyes widen at his little clip and you lightly pinch his bicep. "Shut up. For real this time," you tease.

"You got it, boss," he says, planting one more kiss on your lips.

You roll your eyes but still get comfy in bed as he pulls out and fixes the two of you. After falling back into position, it's not hard to fall asleep. You fit against each other perfectly. His chest is so warm against your back. Everything just feels right, especially since you were sure you'd just pulled off the heist of the century.

You fall asleep on cloud nine but are quickly brought back to reality the next morning when the three of you check out. You're carrying your bags out while Chris holds the door for you. Leon's putting things in the trunk already, eager to get home and have some true alone time with you.

As far as you knew, you were in the clear. That was until Chris gave the room one last glace and then turned his gaze to you.

"The next set of people better hope they clean the sheets really well," he says with a teasing smile.

[usedtobeguest123]

My grandma passed away this last week. She was the matriarch of my family, raising a brood of boys on her own in a new country, and the life I have now I owe to her dedication and sacrifice. She is part of why the character of Abuela resonates so strongly with me, not because of their similarities in character, but because of how meaningful it was to see a story like hers represented in a beautiful, celebrated way in mainstream media.

I'll miss her dearly.

I was going through my unused writing snippets and I found this old one I had started for Encantober "Grief" and never finished. I polished it up a bit and offer it up now in my Abuela's honor. It's inspired by this Twitter-posted poem that resonated with so many people. While I know that there's so much more to the everlasting life after this one, this poem speaks such beauty and childlike peace into that transition, and I adore it for that.

Also, for some reason, I always thought that when the time came for Abuela to pass on, Camilo in particular would have a hard time letting go. Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it go, and all that. He seemed a fitting recipient for this, and also someone likely to ask an uncomfortable question.

Love you Grandma; God bless you and keep you. I can't wait to see you in again in paradise ❤️

------

It had been happening all. freaking. day.

He’d turn the corner, see a cup or a flower or a damn leaf that somehow reminded him and poof, he’d be someone else. Papi. Dolores. Luisa—a mess of people in quick succession. Thank God he’d managed to keep from changing into her. He didn’t think he could deal with that. Ay, he didn’t think any of them could.

No one blamed him though. When Mirabel witnessed one of his involuntary shifts on his way to the kitchen that morning, she’d just looked at him with that sappy, stupid face she was always making and gave him a hug that maybe did help him feel a little better.

Papi had clapped him hard on the back, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as he shifted back down into his own skin. He'd nodded solemnly, giving him a gentle, encouraging lift under the chin.

Tía Julieta just gave him an extra helping at lunch, teary-eyed yet smiling warmly as always.

But it still sucked.

Dios why couldn’t he just get a grip? He felt so jumpy. Everything set him off. He snapped at Antonio when one of his coatis left cacas outside his room again. Even as he spoke he’d known his voice was a too harsh for the situation. He snapped Isabela, and for once she didn’t snap back. She just sent a tiny bloom of flowers settling into his shirt pocket, their stems only a little spikey. He even snapped at Casita when they both knew he'd just tripped on his own two feet.

But he made sure he was on his absolute best behavior around Mami. You want to talk about jumpy? He had nothing on her. Poor Ma.

He managed to hold it together through the rosary, and the next day at mass too, by some miracle. The ceremony was harder, but he pulled through. But then came the reception. Everyone was talking to him and hugging him and offering condolences and ay how many times can you say thank you, I know she's at peace with just the right sad smile before the words start to lose all meaning? Thank you thank you thankyouthankyo—

So. Phwooo. Here he was now, sneaking out of the reception to the back porch of Casita when no one was looking, just to try to fill his stale lungs with a little more air.

After he shut the door quietly behind him, giving a small pat to the wall in thanks to his accomplice Casita, he turned and was surprised to find he in fact was not alone. There, on the small step that led out to the back patio, was Tío Bruno, a rat of course sitting on his shoulder. Eck. Camilo felt a little shiver go down his back.

He considered turning around to find his own private place to brood, but something stopped him. After a moment, and a small nudge from the tiles beneath his feet, he quietly approached instead.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

“Oh!” Bruno startled, flailing comically, but recovered quickly. “Oh, h-hey there Milo.”

Guess I'm not the only one who’s jumpy.

“Do you mind if I…?” he gestured at the empty spot on the stairs next to his tío.

Bruno nodded rapidly, flapping at the spot with his hands and scooting over a minute amount that made absolutely no difference in available space. Camilo sat.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. The rat had disappeared from Tío Bruno’s shoulder to God knows where. They watched the leaves sway on the large gnarled tree that stood proudly behind Casita.

Man, how old was that thing? It had been there as long as he could remember. At some point, a planter had been built around it where Isabela grew a perpetual explosion of flowers, and a swing hung from one of its thicker branches, but he'd seen pictures of when the back porch had let out to just a field and a tree. Camilo found himself wondering if that old thing had always been there, or if it had come with their Miracle.

It looked ancient. The trunk was at least as wide as four humans, twisting and turning up toward the sky at a slight angle before giving way to countless branches, those branches breaking off on their own as well in seemingly infinite chaos. The canopy splayed out above the courtyard in a protective, verdant umbrella so lush that even in the rain, the area underneath often stayed dry. Down below, the roots wove in and out of the soil like great serpents surfacing for air, defying the boundaries of the neat planter and forever upending the level neatness of the patio.

Camilo couldn’t imagine it not being there. He just couldn’t imagine a world without its constant, unshakeable presence. Something heavy and gripping suddenly settled into his chest, and he swallowed hard.

After a moment, his traitorous mouth opened without being told to and he whispered out question so quietly he wasn't sure if Bruno would even hear him.

“What do you think it’s like?”

“Huh?”

“...dying.” Camilo swallowed again, but didn’t look at his uncle. “What do you think it’s like.”

“Oh.” Bruno’s voice was soft. To Camilo’s surprise, he didn’t fidget or squirm like usual. Instead, he seemed to sort of wilt. Camilo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He'd leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He stared up toward the big tree too, but he didn’t seem to be really looking at anything.

It was quiet for so long, that Camilo considered cracking some kind of joke to cover his tracks.

What are you thinking anyway, tonto? he thought. Guy just lost his mom. You gonna drop a rock like that on him? He really did need to get a grip. He needed to break the tension, ease the mood.

“Well, it must not have been that bad if Abuela allowed it to happen,” he joked, his voice light, wry, and guarding. “I think even La Muerte herself would have layed off if Abuela had given her that one stern look she had, ya know?"

Camilo chuckled, but Bruno didn't laugh. He didn't respond at all. He was still looking at the tree with a distant expression. Camilo narrowed his eyes at him—it didn't even seem like he'd heard a thing.

“...Tío?”

At that, Bruno dropped his eyes down to look at his hands, woven together loosely between his bent knees. He tipped his palms up slightly as if he was looking for something there. He took a slow breath, and then he began to speak.

“When I was a kid,” he said, “a-a real little kid, we had this big party at Casita. You know how it goes. House full of people, everything is busy and bright and loud. I don't remember what it was for anymore, b-but the whole time I just was torn between wanting to not miss a minute of it all, but, but, but also trying to be on my best behavior, like I knew Ma would want, a-and also also trying look out for my sisters, who were doing fine by the way, definitely didn't need me looking out for them but—well, anyway.”

Bruno cleared his throat, and Camilo watched him curiously. He nodded for him to continue, and Bruno nodded back.

“A-anyway, I didn't make it through the whole night. I got tired, like kids do, a-and fell asleep in some corner of the courtyard, heh. Passed right out. And Ma—y-your abuela, she found me and picked me up.”

Bruno looked up then, turning to look at Camilo with a sad, crooked smile and an odd brightness in his eyes.

“She carried me upstairs to my room. I could still hear the party—laughter and singing and music and joy—just in the next room over, but in my room with Mamá it was all still and quiet and peaceful. When she tucked me in, she kissed my cheek, and she whispered, ‘You did well, mijo. You did well. I've got you now.’”

Bruno swallowed. “It…it all just felt so…so…safe,” he shrugged. “Like…relief, I guess. Contentment. Idaknow. I think….maybe, um, maybe dying is… something like that.”

The tight feeling was back in Camilo's chest, and he felt a tear streak down his face before he was even aware it was there. He blinked. Bruno looked down at his empty hands again. The air around them had grown cool, the sun now set. The sound of crickets hummed, and the gentle murmurs from the reception wafted out from the warmly lit windows of Casita. Camilo sniffed loudly.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Bruno nodded with a broken chuckle, and brought a sleeve up to wipe roughly at his own face.

“Yeah. It doesn't.”

Then, without warning, Camilo’s shoulders quaked, his breath hitching and more tears suddenly appearing as all the pent-up pressure of the day rose to the surface and broke free. He choked out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. Bruno put an arm around him.

The wind blew gently through the branches of the tree, ruffling the leaves in a hushed lullaby. The ropes of the swing creaked sweetly along with it. And there on the porch, settled between the warm murmurs of the reception behind them and the cool peace of the star-filled night, after his breathing had slowed and his tears had been wiped dry, Camilo thought that maybe he could finally feel within him a measure of stillness.

[munchmemes]

fall out boy lyrics, so much (for) stardust edition

❛  what would you trade the pain for?  ❜

❛  we were a hammer to the Statue of David.  ❜

❛  we were a painting you could never frame.  ❜

❛  you were the sunshine of my lifetime.  ❜

❛  i'd never go. i just want to be invited.  ❜

❛  every lover's got a little dagger in their hand.  ❜

❛  there's no way off the hamster wheel on this rat race.  ❜

❛  give up what you love before it does you in.  ❜

❛  no matter what they tell you, the future's up for grabs.  ❜

❛  is there a word for bad miracle?  ❜

❛  we could dance our tears away.  ❜

❛  it's open season on blue moods.  ❜

❛  i guess i'm getting older 'cause i'm less pissed.  ❜

❛  you put the 'fun' in dysfunction.  ❜

❛  hold me like a grudge.  ❜

❛  the world is always spinning and i can't keep up.  ❜

❛  part-time soulmate, full-time problem.  ❜

❛  i guess somehow we made it back with a few dreams of ours still in tact.  ❜

❛  i got no map to my own treasure.  ❜

❛  i thought i knew better, i thought it would get better.  ❜

❛  i figured somehow by now, i would have got it together.  ❜

❛  if you put your heart in it, then we'll do more than just get by together.  ❜

❛  i'll call you up and demand you have no fun without me.  ❜

❛  i make no plans and none can be broken.  ❜

❛  do you laugh about me whenever i leave? or do i just need more therapy?  ❜

❛  love is in the air, i just gotta figure out a window to break out.  ❜

❛  i didn't take the love when i had the chance but i swear i'm not sad anymore.  ❜

❛  we all started out as shiny dimes but we all got flipped too many times.  ❜

❛  we did it for futures that never came and for pasts that we're never gonna change.  ❜

❛  i will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me.  ❜

❛  tell me, when the party ends, will you still love who i am?  ❜

❛  save your breath. half your life you've been hooked on death.  ❜

❛  be careful what you bottle up.  ❜

❛  i closed my eyes inside of your darkness and found your glow.  ❜

❛  shake things up and see what comes down.  ❜

❛  i got this doom and gloom in my mind but i feel all right.  ❜

❛  feeling so good right now 'til we crash and burn somehow.  ❜

❛  i know i've made mistakes but at least they were mine to make.  ❜

❛  all of my wildest dreams, they just end up with you and me.  ❜

❛  let's drive until the engine just gives out.  ❜

❛  i'll be whatever you need me to be.  ❜

❛  i cut myself down to whatever you need me to be.  ❜

❛  it's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes.  ❜

❛  i take pleasure in the detail, you know? a quarter pounder with cheese. those are good. the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain. a moment where your laughter becomes a cackle.  ❜

❛  here i am, not sure you should take a chance.  ❜

❛  i like playing dumb, letting you figure me out.  ❜

❛  just another day spent hoping we don't fall apart.  ❜

❛  let's twist the knife again like we did last summer.  ❜

❛  i'm just trying to keep it together but it gets a little harder when it never gets better.  ❜

❛  late at night in my room, i lie awake and think of you and all your little dooms.  ❜

❛  last night, i dreamt i still knew you.  ❜

❛  i carved out a place in this world for two but it's empty without you.  ❜

❛  i've got all this love i've got to keep to myself.  ❜

❛  all this effort to make it look effortless.  ❜

❛  confront all the pain like a gift under the tree.  ❜

❛  oh please, i can't be who you need me to be.  ❜

❛  one day every candle's gotta run out of wax.  ❜

❛  time is luck and i wish ours overlapped more or for longer.  ❜

❛  but you know what they say, if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself.  ❜

❛  what is there between us, if not a little annihilation?  ❜

❛  i'm pretty sure as far as humans go, i am a hard pill to swallow.  ❜

❛  i spent ten years in a bit of a chemical haze and i miss the way that i felt.  ❜

❛  i felt you at the beginning but needed you at the end.  ❜

❛  stop me if you have heard this all before.  ❜

❛  oh, but you don't know me anymore.  ❜

❛  that's the way, the world, it used to be before our dreams starting bursting at the seams.  ❜

❛  we're out here and we're ready to livestream the apocalypse.  ❜

❛  the view's so pretty from the deck of a sinking ship.  ❜

❛  everything is lit except my serotonin.  ❜

❛  everything is lit but my lightning bolt brain.  ❜

❛  i just need someone to hold me even though you don't even know me.  ❜

❛  what a time to be alive.  ❜

❛  they say i should try meditation but i don't want to be with my own thoughts.  ❜

❛  when i said 'leave me alone' this isn't quite what i meant.  ❜

❛  bad news, what's left?  ❜

❛  i'm in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now.  ❜

❛  i feel like something that's been stretched out over and over again until i'm creased and i'm about to break down the middle.  ❜

❛  the stars are the same as ever but i don't have the guts to keep it together.  ❜

❛  life is just a game, maybe i'm stuck in a lonely loop.  ❜

❛  we thought we had it all.  ❜

❛  i need the sound of crowds or i can't fall asleep at night.  ❜

❛  i'm pretty positive my pain isn't cool enough.  ❜

❛  ache it till you make it.  ❜

❛  i think i've been going through it and i've been putting your name to it.  ❜

❛  i used to be a real go-getter. i used to think it'd all get better.  ❜

[notmorbid]

shy.

dialogue prompts from shy: a novel by max porter.

express how you're feeling.

the future is here. it's yours.

sneaky little dickhead.

you really are intent on crashing your own train, aren't you?

i always imagine how things will be and then get upset when they're not just like that.

i don't think i like your attitude.

why are you doing this to me?

i love _____. much more than i've ever loved you.

don't bother me next time. just leave me alone.

it's a cosmic miracle we ever get through the night.

is everything okay in there?

i called you twenty or thirty times.

i won't have you defined by your past.

you can be honest. did i upset you?

classic only child.

i know you're awake. i know you can hear me.

why do you want to hurt me?

you need to have another think.

is it ever exhausting to be you?

time must be passing.

the night is huge, and it hurts.

look at me when i'm talking to you.

what a shit-show.

it's a multi-season job, knowing yourself.

does that make you feel ashamed?

does this ghost voice sound like you?

do you worry what the others think of you?

we'll never forget this.

things are looking pretty good for you, right?

i don't want to think about what might be out here.

you like to self-sabotage. isn't that right?

stop pretending to know me. you only know what i tell you.

admit you love the drama.

i wish i'd never been born.

what are you trying to escape from?

i could do with a bit less bullshit from you.

time is something to get wasted and escape from.

it's hard work, getting harder.

you won't be defined by who you are now. you won't even much remember.

i'm not especially sorry about _____, to be honest.

you've only got one body.

does everything have to enjoy the same things you do?

little things get so big in my head.

if you dish it out, you've got to take it.

you've got the voice of an angel.

education is salvation.

you're not usually lost for words.

i don't like being trapped between sleep and awake.

i'm not lost. i'm right where i got myself.

no frightening the locals.

they should tell kids stuff like this.

is this a totally stupid idea?

did someone do something to you?

how did you die?

smash every last window if you need to.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, Chapter Seven: Gods-Damned Merlin, a Malevolent x TMA fic

An escape.

An item lost.

A theological lesson.

A date.

AO3

-------

Hissing blood drips, as if whispering terrible secrets. Wind whistles through the torn metal of the hangar. Tim pants like he carried the manky armchair in here at a run.

He is amazed at the lack of sirens. He wonders if there’s any kind of security—some CCTV footage somewhere. Well. If there is, someone’s going to have a hell of a story on their hands.

He struggles harder. He grunts. It hurts.

Fuck! Stop that!

“Got to get loose,” Tim pants. “Got to get out of here.”

You are hurting me.

Tim goes still. “What?”

What the fuck did he do? Are you bleeding?

“A little? Look, we’ll be fine, I just need to…” Tim strains again.

The armchair’s seat abruptly collapses in on itself, and Tim is swallowed, just his legs and head sticking out.

“Oh, come on!” he says, sunk deep (and there are rusty springs or something in the bottom, and it is not pleasant). “Really? Really? ”

What is happening? Ah! What is that?

“Fell into the damn chair, that’s what!” Tim takes a moment and breathes. He can see. He can get out of this. He has to get out of this. “Hey. Bet all this sent up more than a flare, right? Gray-skinned monsters are definitely coming.”

At the very least. Though the power being flung around during that fight should keep things away for a bit, they will be coming. We need to move.

“I can’t. He’s tied me. Shibari is… it’s this fancy…”

I know what shibari is. I do not care. Get loose!

“Sure, I’ll just press the ‘get loose’ button. What was I thinking?” Tim mutters, and strains.

He can’t get out of the chair. The fabric and stuffing may have rotted through, but the wooden frame is unfortunately still sturdy.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he says softly. “I feel like a steak pie in a tin, only instead of cow and potato, it’s you and me.”

Almost unwillingly, Hastur asks: And which of us is the potato?

“Definitely me. I’m starchy and I taste great no matter how you cook me. You’re just beefier, no matter how you slice it.”

Hastur sort of grunts; not quite agreement, not quite argument. Absurd.

And Tim knows he’s starting to win him back.

It shouldn’t matter. It really shouldn’t. Hastur is a monster—one who has, apparently, inspired a three-thousand-year-old manhunt. But what Hastur said… hurt. Tim wants Hastur to like him again.

So, I’m pathetic, Tim thinks, and struggles. “Oh, what the hell, let’s try this: hey, Siri!”

And by some absolutely insane miracle, Siri’s voice pipes up—a little distance away, under something, but clear: “Yes, boss?”

“No way!” Tim laughs and shifts a little, trying to spot where the phone landed. “Now that is a military-grade case!”

What are you doing?

“I'm gonna call… fuck, who should we call? Police? Yeah, that’ll work. Hey—”

Don’t. Don’t call the police.

“Why not?”

We don’t have time to wait for them to get here.

Tim scoffs. “Got a better idea, then?”

My plan is to use a simple spell to loosen the rope.

Whatever else can be said about the being that is Hastur, he has balls of solid steel.

It takes Tim a moment to answer. “Okay, look,” he finally says. “I have zero reason to trust you right now. You know that, right?”

And I, says Hastur like some grand Duke of Motherfuck, have no reason to trust you after what you did. Yet here we are, and we must choose to work together to survive this.

That son of a bitch. As if their positions are at all equal…

But then, Kayne had called Hastur a narcissist. Well. This isn’t Tim’s first go-around with one of those.

He keeps his tone humble. “Fair. I fucked up, and I own it. But there’s still a pretty big power imbalance here, so my point remains.”

Oh, is there? Hastur challenges. And I suppose since you have the power, you think you should make the decisions?

Walked right into it. “No,” says Tim. “You have the power. You’re some ancient… thing? Thousands of years old? There’s magic, and you damn near tricked me into… I still don’t know what? Dog the bounty hunter is after your ass, and I’m caught up in the middle of all of this, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I’m terrified. You’re the one with the power. You’re asking me to trust you, and I’m saying I’m afraid, and I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a pause, and Tim can absolutely feel his volley worked. Whatever Hastur has for hackles smooths down.

(Why did Kayne think this was so strange? Don’t people usually know how other people feel? Tim always has. Body language, or something.)

(That would not explain Hastur, though.)

It was not… entirely your fault, what you did today, says Hastur as if making a great concession.

“Yeah, it kinda was,” says Tim, struggling.

You have been marked by a deity of destruction.

“So I’m terminal?” Tim says, trying to joke.

Hastur doesn’t take it as a joke. It’s why you lost your reason. Why you antagonized that woman, threatened me irrationally, and opened the book. I’m sorry, Tim. If I were fully myself, in my own body, I could save you. As it is… I cannot.

Tim just breathes for a moment, though it feels like his heartbeat is restricted, though his throat feels tight. “But it is possible. You’re saying it is possible.”

Not with the humans this world currently has. They don’t breed for magic anymore.

“Okay, that’s a whole host of what-the-fuck-are-you-saying, but… point remains. Possible.”

Maybe.

“Maybe nanobots can do what magic does.”

That isn’t how magic works.

“You don’t know that.”

I do. There are worlds where humans have mastered technology and magic, but this is not one.

That was… gentle.

Tim cannot handle gentleness right now, not from whatever the fuck Hastur is, so he moves right along, putting that in the box of fucking later. “I’m still the one who did it. I own it, Hastur. If that’s the name you want.”

It is my name.

“Yeah, but is it the one you want?” He grunts, trying to force the chair’s frame apart. “I don’t deadname people. You want to be called John or Sally or Aziraphale, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll do it.” An olive branch.

Surely I would be more of a Crowley. An olive-brach back.

“Nature-wise, sure, but I don’t know the vibe you’re going for. Still thinking D.B. Cooper, myself.”

Nonsense.

“Fitting. You must’ve stolen something real good to get chased for three thousand years.”

Hastur sighs. Three thousand years is a blink in the lifetime of one such as me, Tim. I feel like I barely got free. And the only thing I stole was myself.

“What… that guy owned you?

No.

Okay, so… that’s a growl, a completely inhuman sound, and Tim has no idea how Hastur is doing it. “Okay. Sure. Okay. Who is he?”

Let’s save the questions until we are in a safe place. Tim, I give you my word that this spell is a Minor Working. I could do it through a dead tree, if I had to; you require no magical affinity for it to work, and it will loosen the ropes enough that we can flee.

Was this another olive branch? “So you mean you could do it without my permission?”

I could. I am choosing to include you.

Definite olive branch. Tim licks his lips, tastes spores (or whatever the fuck is on the armchair), and spits. “Ugh!”

Disgusting!

“Wait, did you taste that? ”

Yes. Ugh.

Okay, that goes into the pile of fucking later, too. “We… we’ll come back to that. All right. What do I do?”

What do you do?

“Might as well test the magic-meter on this, right? A Minor Working, or whatever. If Kayne meant what he said, you want to know if I’m magical, and… to be honest, so do I.”

You’d trust me enough to do that?

“No,” says Tim. “But yeah. I will. And if it doesn’t work?”

It would cost neither of us, should it fail. If you can’t do it, I will simply perform the spell myself—which will feel mildly uncomfortable, as my power is not human, and your body will be confused, but will do no harm. And if you succeed… well.

“If I’m ‘gods-damned Merlin?’”

You are unlikely to be gods-damned Merlin.

“You really did what he said? Set a limit like that?”

Why would I bother inhabiting a body without the power to do what I wish? My vessels are carefully chosen for me.

So that's a bit of storytelling that chills Tim to his soul. Horrifying. People chosen. For all he knows, bred.

Can't deal with it now. Tim shakes it off.

He wants to know if he can do magic—a small and fluttering hope, like a candle in the dark.  “What do I do?”

Focus on the rope. Concentrate on where it lies on your body, its tension, its texture. Then repeat this word: ahahog.

“What’s that mean?”

Without magic? It will do nothing. With it? If you are magical at all, the rope will loosen, as the fibers themselves will be expanded, and you should be able to wriggle free. It’s extremely simple.

That doesn’t sound simple at all. It sounds like impossible physics. Did the ropes gain matter? Did they take in air molecules, somehow? How the fuck did this work?  Would it work?

There's one way to find out: he focuses.

He knows damned well what this rope configuration looks like, though it is over his clothes. Knows the material; he’d handled this rough, prickly rope himself before Kayne used it to bind him. Eyes closed, rope visualized, really wanting to get loose, he speaks. “Ahahog.”

The meaning flashes through his head: expand.

The rope explodes.

Pops like it was shot, completely blasting away from him and leaving his skin stinging, but free.

Ow!

“Woo!” he says, and scrapes his arms free to raise them like he scored a goal. “Also, ow! But woo!”

What just… that felt…

“It worked! Blew the fuck up!” Tim wriggles and writhes and pulls himself out of the damned armchair. “Ugh. You know, you are damned lucky we put on one of my least favorite shirts today, because it is definitely never coming clean. Where’s my phone?”

The rope exploded?

“Yep! Hey, Siri!”

“Yes, boss?”

“There you are, you glorious bitch. Oh, fuck, I’m sore. Damn those cleat hooks…” He pulls out his collar and looks down at himself. “I look like I’ve been mugged by gnomes.”

Gnomes?

“Yeah. Little guys wearing brass knuckles about the size of my thumb.”

Hastur makes a choked noise.

Tim knows he’s beginning to win Hastur back.

Good. He wants to. “Right. Okay. Ow. Fuck. Ow.” Tim walks.

Ow! You are badly damaged!

“I’m just scraped and bruised. What, none of your ‘vessels’ got bruised before?”

My vessels were treated as gods in their own right, pampered and adored to the end of their mortal lives. 

Into the fucking later box with that! “Right. Spoiled as hell. Got it.”

Hastur huffed a little. Spoiled? Do you know what you’re saying?

“Nope. Mostly because you haven’t told me.” Tim picks up his backpack and begins replacing what fell out of it.

Hastur must be able to feel that. Tim.

“What?”

 My book.

“Sure, I’ll just… hm. This place is a wreck.”

Try not to look at Dagon.

“Why should… ow.”

You looked at Dagon.

“You just told me not to think about an elephant, all right?” said Tim, rubbing his eyes. Dagon wasn’t right. Huge; somehow taking up more space than he actually did, existing outside the dimensions Tim’s eyes were set up to handle. Fish-man to the thousandth degree. It hurt to look at him, strained something inside his head. “Ow.”

So I feel. You should be fine. Even dead, he can make weaker minds fail, but I begin to think your mind is not weak.

“Sure. All those hours playing Angry Birds paid off,” Tim mutters, still looking. “Bad news, Crowley. I don’t see your book.”

Hastur is fine. And it has to be here. It cannot be destroyed.

“All right. Under Dagon, maybe?” Tim says. “If so, we're out of luck.”

Damn. Let us be certain: we need to use another spell. For this, I would need your volition.

"Volition not on offer just yet,” says Tim.

Please. I can’t lose the book. It’s important.

Hastur means it. It feels like the most honest thing he’s said.

“Tell me why.”

Please, Tim. I promise I will once we have the book and are away from this place.

“Fine. All right. I’m keeping track of your promises, so you know.”

And I am good for them. Now: Picture the book. Feel it in your hands. Remember its weight, its width.

“Right,” says Tim, recalling with a little chill that it doesn’t quite fit right in the human hand and suddenly understanding why it doesn’t.

Then say this: mgah'n'ghft.

“Mgah'n'ghft,” Tim tries to practice. “Mgah'n'ghft. And what’s that do?”

Finds what you’re picturing within a small distance. It is a Minor Working; the weakest magic talent will do. Please hurry.

“Here’s to hoping I don’t blow it up,” says Tim with caustic brightness, and focuses. “Mgah'n'ghft.”

The meaning filters through, and he doesn’t have a word for it. Where, but like a command. Find, but more locational.

He doesn’t expect it to do quite what it does.

Flying?

No, that is not the word for this, not the word for moving through matter like a fish through water

Too much mind too much gaze too much existence

A fifty-dimensional expanse, a human brain trying to see through thousands of eyes

The book, clutched tightly by Infinite Cruelty And Laughing Death

Kayne says, “Well, howdy! Also, bye-dee!” and whacks Tim with the souls of a thousand worlds

Tim shouts and falls onto his knees.

What happened? What was that? You’re dizzy! Hastur declares.

That’s putting it mildly. He gasps, head down, braced. He can barely keep himself upright, even on all fours. It’s like he’s forgotten how to exist in three dimensions. “What the fuck was that spell?”

A finding spell! It’s a Minor Working! You shouldn’t be dizzy!

“Well, we are major fucked,” Tim gasps. “Kanye’s got your book.”

What?   Hastur breathes.

Tim tries to stand and can’t. The world spins more; his head is heavy. “Don’t throw up, me,” he tells himself. “Cast-iron stomach, we can do this.”

But you can’t—Hastur stops. But that would not have—Hastur stops again. Kayne has it? How did you even learn that? What did you do ?

“What you told me to, nerd,” says Tim. “Fuck. Got to get out of here. I swear, I can feel monsters about to tear my spine out.”

They’re about a mile out. Not that you’d know. Whatever else you may be, you don’t seem to have any skill when it comes to identifying the inhuman.

“Oh, what the hell, was that a dig? In the middle of this, a dig at that Sela thing? Really?” He grunts. “I’m so dizzy.”

Orr'eog. Strength for an hour. Hurry.

“You’re joking. You think I’m going to do another spell after what just happened?”

Tim. What choice do you have?

How dare he?

And Tim might have just gone with the anger rising in response to that if he hadn't been swallowed by rage within the last hour.

He will not do that. That's not who he chooses to be. He will not. Marked? Mad with rage? No. No.

Slow breaths. In and out. “I have a choice here, you fucking mark,” he mumbles, and clenches his fists, and redirects it to determined. “And I am going for it, whether you want me to or not. Orr’eog!”   Picturing strength, energy, the sensation of being young and strong and healthy and—

Tim’s jaw drops.

Oh… oh, Tim, Hastur purrs like some eldritch phone sex operator.

Tim takes a moment. “So,” he says.

Tim… we should…

“Sh-sh-sh. I need to find the words.”

Do you. Warm. Intense.

“I could climb a mountain,” Tim says.

Likely.

“I could fight a bear.”

Inadvisable, but yes.

“I could climb a mountain, and then fight a bear,” says Tim.

We are being hunted, Hastur reminds him.

“Catch me if you can, fuckers!” Tim proclaims, and takes off at a full run.

He does it while laughing like a loon.

Has he ever felt this good? Closest he can think of was being seventeen, fully warmed up on the track, at the peak of his physical health before he took a desk job. Running then had been easy, and never felt the same, no matter how long he spent on the treadmill.

It’s more than easy now. It’s joyful.

He laughs as he speeds out of the hangar, through the abandoned farm, past rusted bits of metal that for all he knows are just movie props (and the color is so gorgeous he could cry), under stormy skies filled with clouds that catch both light and shadow like the tempting curves of a body (he was never taking colors for granted again, ever ), toward the distant dark road and home.

Rain patters his face. He feels incredible. “You’d make a great drug dealer. Anyone ever tell you that?” he shouts.

Hastur sighs. Your bodily sensations are… distracting.

“Fuckin’ A, they are!” Tim says, and laughs as he runs on.

#

He doesn’t want to run all the way home (only because it will take too long), so he finally slows down and pulls up his rideshare app. That’s when he discovers that his real estate agent called him twelve times in the last day, leaving twelve messages.

That… dims the joy a bit. He listens to voicemails while he waits for his ride.

Insurance, she says. Police, she talks about. Contract, she warns.

It comes down to this: the house was damaged in a mysterious incident investigators fortunately think has something to do with a wild animal. While the buyer technically closed three days before on Friday, since they hadn’t taken possession yet, it falls to Tim to repair it—or they can, and will, back out.

The good news is insurance will cover it.

The bad news is Tim needs to make a police report and answer all kinds of questions and find affordable handymen in a limited amount of time.

“Fuuuuuck,” he mutters as he hits message ten.

This is an unnecessary complication. We don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, well, unless you fancy living in a box in an alleyway, it’s very much necessary,” says Tim, listening to the final two messages. “Damn it. I’m going to have to make a police report.”

How do you know Kayne has my book? says Hastur, circling back.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Tim says, raising his hand to get the driver’s attention. “I don’t even know what verb to use. I didn’t see, I didn’t feel. It was like…” He grips his own arm, hugging himself. “It was just… too much? It was awful. I think if he hadn’t thrown me back out again, I’d have exploded.”

You transformed the spell, Hastur whispers.

“Sure? Into what? Here we go.” And he’s in the car. “Hello! Sorry for the mess—had a great hike,” he says, and keeps the charm on until the driver is happy to have him no matter how he smells. Then pulls out his earphones. “Gotta take this call, sorry.”

If he has my book, Tim, I’m in trouble.

“Pretty sure you were already,” Tim murmurs into the mouthpiece.

Not like this. One: because much of my power is bound into it. Its absence limits me greatly. Two: because of my failsafe. When my host dies, I am returned to the book. It is the ultimate way to prevent me from going to the Dark World.

“Um… that doesn’t seem super smart? Books are really flammable, buddy. Don’t know if you knew that.”

Not my book.

“Not your book, okay,” says Tim.

My book was created by me and for me.

“Uh, huh,” says Tim, watching the city slide by.

It has protections, backups, layers upon layers of safety woven into the fabric of its pages. You could drop it in a volcano, and it would be whole and unblemished when it finally came free as the earth spewed its substance.

“Are you serious?”

You could drop it to the bottom of the sea, and it would be pristine as some fool of a fisherman pulled it from the depths and opened it to see what it said.

“Shit, really?”

It has never failed to work in thousands of years… until you.

Tim stills. “Failed to work?”

And now,  even if I can find a way to avoid him, I’m fucked—because if something happens to you, because my soul will go straight into his hands.

So that explains why Kayne took the thing.

Guilt pounds alongside his heart. “Three thousand years of successful hiding, for whatever reason, and I completely wrecked it.” He swallows. “I’m sorry. Again. But what do you mean, failed to work?”

Hastur clams up.

Oh. Great. So that’s probably fine.

#

The magical strength boost has faded by the time he faces the stairs to his walk-up, and he is sore. He groans the whole climb. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you showed up,” he mutters as he locks his door and leans against it. “Feels like a year. It’s so not fair that I have to be a grown-up right now.”

Tim. He has my book.

“Have you been thinking about that this whole time?” Tim says, and stops halfway toward his little kitchen. He remembers, just now, that he has no food.

He really wants to cry.

Yes. I can’t think of a way to get it back.

“Don’t think it matters, mate,” says Tim. “He’s got your scent now, yeah? Book or no.”

This… this isn’t supposed to happen.

And Tim isn’t supposed to be facing police and insurance challenges, either, but this isn’t the time to say. “What was supposed to happen?”

Hastur clams up again.

Tim sighs and starts digging through a box he’d labeled “LA CUCINA” for some reason he’d found funny but now can’t recall.

I can feel you searching for something.

“Yeah. Food.”

There are spells we could use to conjure it.

“I’m sure you’re not just trying to get me to trust you with magic so you can wallop me with a mind-control spell or something down the road,” Tim mutters.

Tim. With the power I suspect you have, you could do far more than that.

Tim laughs. “What?”

I think you may actually be gods-damned Merlin.

Tim snorts. “Sure. Sure I am.”

I’m not joking.

He doesn’t feel like he is joking.

A chill rushes down Tim’s body, mild shock buzzing under his bruised skin. “Well, I’d better hope I’m not, or you’re taking my body, right?”

I don’t dare. Kayne would come for me at once.

That tells him two clear things: one, if Hastur could take his body, he would. Two: he's terrified of Kayne on such a level that he won't do the one thing he's been trying to do all day. “You’re really in trouble here, aren’t you?” he says, quietly.

More than you can imagine.

He finds a box of pasta. However, there is nothing to put on the pasta. “I am not desperate enough for plain boiled noodles,” he mutters, and keeps digging. “Are you going to tell me why? And who John is? And what that first spell had been going to do? Who are you, anyway?”

That one, Hastur is happy to answer. I am the King in Yellow. I am a god of vast and unimaginable power. I am Lord of Carcosa, the Unspeakable One, the Feaster from Afar. I am the Dweller in the Depths, and Him that Slept Beneath. I am Prince of the Great Old Ones.

“Wait a second. Great Old Ones?” Tim frowns at a box of muffin mix (long out of date) requiring eggs, which he does not have.

Yes.

“That’s familiar. Wait a minute. Cthulhu? Actually like Cthulhu?”

My fool half-brother. Even now, he sleeps in your ocean, assuming some faithful remnant will awaken him. Hastur scoffs. It’s never going to happen.

Tim falls back from his crouch onto his ass, mouth open, squashing the muffin mix box. “What?”

I am the—

“Wait just a damn minute! Cthulhu? That’s real? ”

Not the way you know it. Lovecraft was a poor cipher, as many of your poets and artists have been. He took in some information, went mad, and bungled the rest.

“Okay, I need a second. Right? Just fucking… hold on.” Tim shakes his head. “I’ve played board games with these names. King in Yellow? Wait—fuck, that was… there’s a book.”

Yes. Inaccurate, but yes.

“I don’t remember it, anyway. Skipped reading it. Nearly fucked that exam, but I didn’t care. I was already graduating.” Tim rubs his face. “It’s real?”

Some of it.

“So… so I’ve got a god in my head. An actual god. Is what you’re saying.”

Yes.

Mr. Eager, dark and hungry. Big spooky.

Funny, though. Tim would have bet money a god would be more… alien. “And who the fuck was John? I’m not familiar with the whole Cthulhu mythos, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember a god named John.”

Silence.

“Fucking Cthulhu,” Tim mutters, heading for the bathroom and peeling off his ruined clothes.

He is not part of this.

“Sure. Wait, so when I said brothers… wow. You really misunderstood me, if monster-squid is your brother.”

No. Softer. I have lived here for a long time, mortally speaking. I understand you loved your brother like yourself.

It’s Tim’s turn to fall silent.

He tosses the shirt—it was just a freebie, anyway, from a publishing conference years ago—and finally showers.

“Weird,” he says, soaping up.

Hm?

“Touching myself. Just… bathing. And knowing you can feel it.”

I can.

“Weird. Very weird. Deeply uncomfortable.”

Just ignore it.

“Welp,” says Tim. “I am not going manky for your sake, anyway, so.”

I’m glad to hear it. I also smell what you do.

Tim snorts. “Well, that cinches it.”

Cinches what?

“Here’s what we’re doing,” says Tim, toweling dry. “We’re in trouble. I know it. You know it.”

Yes. Softly.

“So we are going on a date.”

A what?

“I’m cooking for us. I make a damn good curry, and you’ll love it.”

Tim…

“And we’re doing a proper meet-and-greet. You are going to answer my questions, because I don’t know enough to be your partner in all of this. And I suppose you’ll have questions, too.”

Tim, this is silly.

“And after that, we’re going to make a plan. Look, I’ve already started on lists.”

Lists.

“Yeah. No gods in this universe, some guy named Kayne, some guy named John, the book not working right…”

Hastur sighs. Tim. This is—

“Nope. You were about to say hopeless or just a  matter of time or something stupid like that. We’re not going there.”

Hastur pauses. I was. It is a matter of time. You’re marked. Kayne has found me. Had I full access to my own power right now, I could perhaps find another way to run from him—but I do not.

“See, right there. You’re some fucking… god. Why don’t you have full power? Why is it in the book?”

As I said, one of my failsafes. Were I to simply enter the body of a human in my fullness, they would instantly die, no matter their magical skill. I needed a way to use my power without destroying my host.

“So you put your power in a losable thing. What, you didn’t learn from the One Ring?”

That fiction hardly existed when I was designing my escape, Hastur says loftily.

“See? That can be one of the things we’re talking about. That book. And what you meant by failed. ”

Tim… there’s little point to this.

“Bullshit. I’m not giving up so easy.” He has a few cuts that need butterfly strips, but most of the issue is bruising. He feels damned lucky.

You are so young, Hastur murmurs.

“Hey, now,” says Tim. “I’m gonna be thirty in a month.”

All of thirty years. Well.

“I can buy beer, and everything,” Tim says, heading for the door and grabbing his shopping bag.

What are you doing?

“Food. I know you feel how hungry we are.”

I do. Low. You really didn’t have anything here but a bit of peanut butter and bread?

Tim walks down the stairs, thoughtful. “I’ve been really low for a while, Hastur. It’s just… it’s just true. What happened to my brother was the final straw, but… yeah.”

That is unfortunate. You deserve better, Tim, Hastur purrs.

“Save it for the date.” Tim enters the small store.

This shop is one of the reasons he chose the apartment he did, even without elevators. It takes very little time to find what he needs for a damn good (if simple) curry, along with some other foods for breakfasts and possible midday meals.

“Might be a bit optimistic here,” he says. “I’ll get stuff for three days. That way, if we’re caught up in another dimension or something, I won’t have to feel too bad about food going bad.”

Very forward-thinking.

“You want something to drink?”

I… don’t know if it would affect me.

“Pretty sure it would.” He buys some lager.

Hastur sighs, but Tim knows he’s at least amused by all this.

Tim is just fucking hungry. “Hope you’re ready to answer questions.”

Do you think to get me drunk, and thus more honest?

“Yep!”

Hastur scoffs.

#

Tim wasn’t kidding.

He feels a little relaxation is deserved, after all of this, and his last act as an adult (in his mind) is to call his agent and set up a meeting for tomorrow. He still has to go to the police, but he will do it later.

For now, there’s curry to make.

That smells divine, Hastur says as Tim sautees garlic and onion. Perhaps I have been in my book for too long.

“How long? Why were you in there so long?”

Nearly seventy years. And because there were no worthwhile candidates.

Whoop, into the fucking later box with that. “We are about to drink beer on an empty stomach.”

Do as you wish.

Tim does. He’s into his second bottle before the curry is ready, and he hums as he stirs in the tomato puree. He feels great. Really damn buzzed. “Hope you’re watching, Bouchard!” he says, and toasts the ceiling above the stove.

He probably is. There is the tiniest hesitation. He’s probably touching himself.

Tim starts giggling.

Hastur laughs, low and wicked-sounding.

“Victory!” says Tim. Stove off (he double-checked), enormous curry filling a bowl meant to feed a family, Tim chows down.

Fuck! Hastur declares as approval of Tim’s cooking.

“Fuckin’ A,” agrees Tim, and eats the whole damn thing.

#

He lies on his mattress, staring at the ceiling. It has a sheet. He feels this is as far as he’s going to go right now. “That was a lot of beer.”

It was delicious, Tim. In my court, you would be celebrated as a chef of great renown.

Tim starts giggling. “Oh. Good. That’s what I want with my life. Line-cook.”

Oh, no, says Hastur. You would cook only for me.

“Oh, right, of course,” says Tim. “Who’s John?”

A beat. Do we have to do this now?

“Come on, Hastur.” Tim reaches and shakes his own hand. “We’re working together. I’m not giving up.”

You were giving up on yourself, though.

“Yeah,” says Tim. “But it’s different when you’re trying to help someone else, yeah?”

Hastur sounds a little choked. You really would do that?

“Yeah.”

But you’re not an acolyte.

“No, I told you—not all living things are assholes. That’s all.” And his instinct says to go quiet.

To let Hastur sit in it.

To see what he does.

John… was part of me.

Tim inhales. Hastur was actually talking? “What does that mean?”

I… made a mistake. I was cut in half. But I am a god; I am not like you. Thus, the part cut away was sentient. And he… first, he died. I couldn’t reach him. Then, he was summoned back completely by accident—bound to a book by people who thought they were trapping him. If they’d known where he was, they would have left him there.

“There, as in... the Dark World?”

Yes. But his book was designed poorly. It killed the first several people who opened it. They exploded.

“Fuck.”

Indeed. Then, someone didn’t. A human man named Arthur Lester. But… but my John… didn’t remember anything. Anything; who he was, what he was. Where he belonged. And Arthur took advantage of him. The two of them… stumbled around, and… and...

Hastur was getting emotional.

“Hey, it’s okay,” says Tim, patting his own hand. “We don’t judge here. This is the… the safe-space bed. Yeah.”

Is it?

“I haven’t even had sex on this one,” he says. “It's brand-new.”

Hastur laughs.

Tim laughs, too.

I do like you, Tim, Hastur says, and then snarls: You are... nothing … like Arthur Lester.

“Yeah, so the way you say that? It’s bad. You don’t like him.”

No. I hated him. Hated… him. He entangled with John. He… kept him from me.

“Kept him?”

He even convinced John that he didn’t want to come home!

Oh. Oh. Oh, Tim has a bad feeling about that situation and Hastur's understanding of it. “Oh.”

Hastur puffs. I did everything to get him back! I asked. I ordered. I tortured.

“Oh,” says Tim, his eyes enormous.

It didn’t work. Finally, I had to break Arthur’s legs.

“Well, fuck that guy, I guess,” says Tim, who can feel his eyes are even wider, and wonders if Hastur can feel that, too.

It… worked. For a while. John came home! But he wouldn't... he wouldn't join. And then Kayne showed up out of nowhere and took John away again!

“I feel like I’m missing a lot of context,” says Tim. “But it sounds awful. Why’d he do that?”

I don’t know. Hastur’s voice breaks. He found them fascinating. I didn’t even… I never fucked around with Outer Gods. Why would I do that? I didn’t even know him!

“And an Outer God is different from a Great Old One?”

He is more powerful than I am even than I am more powerful than you are.

Tim has to take a moment to parse that. “Fuck,” he finally says.

But with all his fascination, and his… his interfering … he said he’d kill them someday. And eventually, he did. He just… Hastur’s voice shakes now. He just did.

“Oh,” whispers Tim.

And then I knew he was coming for me. I knew. He said he was coming for me, and he'd done what he said with them.

“So… you ran.”

He just killed them. They didn’t do anything wrong. He just… got bored.

Those last four words fill Tim with such broad, undefined fear that he shivers. “And why did you come here? No gods?”

The Powers. The fear-eaters that rule this timeline. They ate the gods. All of them. There’s none left here.

“None?”

Ah, Tim… Hastur breathes it. You have no idea what was lost. The variety; the power. Certain magics tied to gods, or magical beasts or elements, vanishing along with their creators. It is a tragedy. This place is a veritable wasteland, comparatively, compared to other worlds.

“And… he wouldn’t look for you here?” Tim yawns.

No. Why would I come here? I ran from him out of fear, and this place is dangerous.

“You’re like a mouse hiding between the front paws of the cat out to eat it,” says Tim.

Yes! That. I’m that. I'm. It’s that.

“Seems like it worked. Until me.” Tim sniffles.

Oh, Tim… I don’t blame you. I know your… kind of person. I know all about kinds of people.

“All of them, huh?” Tim blows his nose.

Yes! I’ve enjoyed… I’ve spent my time here… I’ve done everything.

Tim does not laugh. Somehow. “Shibari?”

Pfft, that’s only been popular since the Edo period. Of course I’ve done shibari.

Yow. "In… bodies. Chosen for you.”

Yes!

“Stolen?” very softly.

No! Most of the time, anyway. They were raised for me. Knew what they’re doing. It is an act of worship.

“Fucking… cultists? But how can you have cultists and… and breeding programs, or whatever, and nobody knew?”

Because the world’s full of cults. Mine just happens to be real.

Tim is sure he could argue with that if he were sober, but he is not. So. “And Kayne’s chasing you just… because?”

I don’t know the original reason. But… I suppose now, because I got away from him. I think my success is what fueled his rage.

“That tracks. Wow. Is he a god of death, or something?”

No. He is child of the Blind Idiot God, and… Hastur pauses. What was I saying?

“Kayne. Blind Idiot God?”

No, he’s not the Blind Idiot God. He’s child of the… of that. There’s only like… a dozen beings that powerful. And he’s an ass.

Tim starts giggling. “You said ass.”

Hastur laughs, too.

Tim has more questions. He does. Or he did. Right now, he can’t remember them. He rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still giggling. “Ass.”

Ha! You said it this time.

“You’re not so bad like this,” yawns Tim, eyes closing.

Well. Well, you.

“We’re not done talking,” murmurs Tim. “Promise me.”

I promise, Tim.

“Keeping track of your promises,” Tim murmurs, and falls into an exhausted sleep.

[supermanshield]

hi! I really like your blog, thank you for sharing! also I don't really read/like comics all the much but I love the characters (esp Clark) and have been intrigued lately, so I was wondering if you could please rec me The Essential and also your favorite superman and superbat ones?

Hi, thank you kind anon! It's great that you want to get into comics! I think it's a medium for everyone and even if you don't like the superman and superbat comics I'll recommend you, there's so much more out there that doesn't necessarily have to be superheroes even. There are just so many genres!

Anyway, for your superbat needs I have the Superbat reading guide. If you just want the essentials I would say stick to the ones with a star. And consider starting somewhere in a more modern era (such as the post-crisis, new 52, or current comics), because the older ones can be a bit harder to read at times.

As for Superman, I have a lot of recommendations (you've really opened a can of worms here, anon).

Easy to start with:

Adventures of Superman (2013) - This was a digital first series during new 52 but not set in any specific continuity, making it very accessible to new readers. It's what got me into Superman at the time.

Superman Red & Blue (2021) - Anthology series from last year. Just as accessible as Adventures of Superman.

Superman: Up in the Sky (2019) - Also highly recommended for getting into the character. A lot of different short adventures all part of one immense mission to save one little girl.

The best:

All-Star Superman (2011) - It's often said that you should not read this as your first Superman comic, but it was my first. Loved it then, and I love it even more with every re-read. Every page is a masterpiece, every panel an iconic Superman panel. Yes, I will continue to praise this book until the day I die. Don't spoil yourself by watching the movie first, read the book and then give the movie a try.

Origin stories:

Superman: For all seasons (1998) - A little shorter than All-Star, and a good introduction in my opinion. Clark growing up in Smallville and moving to Metropolis. Tim Sale's art is beautiful as well. If you like this, I also highly recommend Superman: Kryptonite by Darwyn Cooke and Tim Sale, in which Clark discovers he can actually get hurt.

Superman: Birthright (2003) - I love this version of the origin story! Some absolutely iconic Superman moments in here, and Martha is an alien/extraterrestial geek, she even has her own website. (Don't worry, the Kents are still farmers in Smallville, Martha just has an interesting hobby).

Superman: Secret Origin (2009) - Maybe the most well-known origin story for Clark. I don't like it as much as the other ones but it's definitely essential reading.

Other essentials and highly recommended:

Action Comics #775 - This is rightfully a very often quoted Superman comic. It's Superman vs. The Elite, and the question of why doesn't Superman just kill his enemies? as well as what happens if superheroes do.

Action Comics by Grant Morrison (Action Comics vol. 2 #0-18) - This is new 52, I personally haven't read it yet, but I often see it recommended for getting into superman. Also considered an updated version of his origin / golden-age superman. I have to get around to reading it soon!

current Action Comics - The warworld story that started in issue 1030 has been really great so far. I think the writer really understands what Superman stands for and I look forward to the new issue every month.

Whatever happened to the Man of Tomorrow? - A classic. Officially pre-crisis, but it was the last issue before the big reset of DC comics in 1986. Tells the story of Clark's final adventure and what happens after.

Pre-crisis (my personal fave):

Superman: The secret years (Clark in College)

Superman #296-299 (Should Clark be Superman permanently or Clark Kent permanently?)

Superman #366-368 (Superman revenge squad)

Superman #400 (Miracle Monday comes from this anniversary issue)

Superman #408 (Impending nuclear war, answers the question of why doesn't Clark just disarm all nuclear warheads around the world)

Superman #416 (Make sure you read the main story and the back-up! And then go back again ;) )

Action Comics #500 (Anniversary issue, describing Superman's life)

There is sooo much more! I haven't even mentioned the 90s yet, which of course entails the death of Superman, the long hair, getting married to Lois and so much more. And the 2000s, of which I've only read a handful but a lot of it is really good. And golden-age Superman, which I've only recently really gotten into but I can't recommend it enough.

I can also recommend following the superman-bot on twitter that recommends a random comic every hour. It's worked wonders for me just reading random issues of which I like the cover and not worrying about continuity/reading order too much.

This is getting long but I hope it helps. I'm always happy to help with finding comics for Superman or Batman or other characters.

Anyway if I were to make an actual Superman reading guide it would just say 'start at action comics #1 and read everything inbetween that and the current issue of action comics'. So I've tried to contain myself here, really.

[lumpystonerprincess]

Late night post because I can’t sleep because I fucked up

I was an addict. It started slow, but fast at the same time. I tried coke and didn’t mind it. Had the opportunity to start selling and figured, if I’m gonna do it, I might as well make it at least profitable. So I did. As time went on I still only used recreationally and profit was my main focus, it still wasn’t an issue and as long as I made money I didn’t care if I even sold what I intended to use. That rolled into a new focus. All my friends around me did it, and I wanted to make sure they were getting stuff that was cut to hell. Shit is scary and even I knew that. And I didn’t wanna put something that could land me in the hospital or worse the ground up my nose, let alone my friends. I’m all for recreational use because everyone’s got a vice. And if you use and are smart about it, just as with pot or alcohol, then you do you. At least you’re conscious about your choices. To me it was a better option that the meth or heroin I saw first hand destroy so many people around me. So I did things differently. I kept striving to find a better supplier, Less cut product. Because then at least I knew who I sold to, could have something with as little risk as I could find. A supply I trusted, and that I could cut myself, with a cut I knew was safe. (Powdered benzocaine because people always love the numbing effect, though I knew most of the numbing comes from the cut people put into it. So at least I could at least TELL you EXACTLY what it was cut with.) and I found that supplier. Had an established business arrangement and was selling more than I ever could have imagined. Went from buying and flipping grams and balls, to consistently flipping an ounce every two weeks.

But the thing about selling is, you test the product, you do taster bumps with people to entice a sale, you use your personal to stay up and party late to get as many sales as possible. You have access at all times to however much you wanna do. And I always kept my personal uncut because frankly I liked the drip, I didn’t care for the numbing. And I had friends hooked on meth, so I was trying to supply them with coke instead in hopes the kick because why buy that when I’ll share this with you for free right?

And before I knew it I was using every day, all day, and double on weekends. So much my nose was all fucked and I couldn’t even get it up there anymore. So stop right? Seems logical?

I was still more conscientious than the fiends around me. I was able to keep it under wraps from my family, still held a good high paying full time job, still was ensuring my profits far exceeded my own use, hell if I felt someone was buying too much from me I’d stop supplying them for a bit and tell them to slow down. No judgement of course just looking out for them and their well being, didn’t want them blowing too much money because they have responsibilities, they were friends with jobs and houses and bill and kids even. Even parents need to let loose here and there. And if they did and I was around I didn’t mind. I’d make sure it was kept away from the kids, made sure everything was wiped down and clean too so after the party was done I knew they still wouldn’t get exposed even by accident.

But back to my nose, concerned as I was for everyone else around me, I’d been doing so much my preferred way of use was no longer an option. Seemed like a good reason to at least step back from personal use. But no, it was too much a part of my daily routine. So instead I decided to smoke it. Make my personal stash into foils and keep going. (Mind you, only thing I ever smoked before was cigs and weed. I had a hard limit on ANYTHING harder than coke. Absolutely no meth, no crack, no heroin. Nothing) but how else was I gonna do coke if I couldn’t snort it. So there I was smoking fucking foils to get my fix. I’d stooped that low in my own addiction. And I just kept going.

By some miracle. No not some miracle, my saving grace. My best friend got me to open my eyes. She didn’t do coke but she knew I did, she never judged me when I told her I tried it, she simply said this “do what you want to do, but I’ll only tell you this once, if I think you get too deep, out of love I will tell your mom” and I knew she meant that, because she would let me do whatever I wanted, but at the end of the day she cared about my well being above anything.

So when it got bad bad, and she didn’t know the full extent of it even but she knew enough, she texted me. It’d been god knows how long since I’d seen my goddaughter, because she knew I would never come around her high. She said “your goddaughter misses you, sober up” I knew that was my warning. Get it together on my own, or she was going to my mom to force me to get it together.

I was so deep in, at a level most can’t come back from, especially not on their own. Extensive inpatient rehab by force deep. But I knew that wasn’t an option without my mom knowing and I’d already put that woman through so much that I could never risk her finding out about this, it would kill her. With that in my head some way some how and I still don’t know exactly how I managed to, I quit. Entirely. Using and selling.

Not cold turkey I’m not that good. But my friend did give me some grace and time to make changes. She knew I still had to pay off a hefty front my guy gave me because I had gotten robbed, but she kept an eye on me as I continually proved I was making progress forward. And finally I’d kicked it over the course of a year. And stayed sober for a little over a year even. She commended me for my self control and believed in me that I could do it.

I still missed it tho. Not the shitty part of course but a vice is a vice and it still was something I had enjoyed. And I’d proven to myself I COULD have self control. So I made an agreement with myself, and my best friend of course. I could use again, but STRICTLY recreationally. No more selling. And I couldn’t buy more than half a gram for a night out. And I couldn’t do it more than one night. And it couldn’t be every weekend either. And I stuck to that. Rigorously. Because if I didn’t have enough self control to stick to those rules then I just didn’t have enough self control to use at all period. As time went on I stuck to my rules, eventually got into a relationship with someone who knew I used occasionally, and he did too but very rarely so that was good for me. I only got some on the rare occasion he wanted to. It really stabled me out. Things were going really well, and then as most relationships do, it fell apart. Amid the breakup I went a little off rails, a slight bender for four days the weekend of my birthday. I bought a ball for my birthday celebration as a now single woman. But I had told my best friend and was under her watch the whole weekend so she could still accept this was how I needed to cope but still make sure it was only to go as far as the four day period and no more. And it didn’t. I was still very adamant about not falling into my old pattern. She let me be wild because she still believed I had the self control to know when to stop this time around. The birthday celebration was done, the supply was gone, and I was okay with that.

A week later I found out I was pregnant. 2 months along. Talk about panic. I felt so guilty about my birthday. But she assured me I didn’t know and can’t change the past. So the rest of my pregnancy I was stone cold sober. Did everything to make sure my little was safe inside me. And she was. She came out perfect and healthy, early but we’d already expected that. I was nowhere ready to be a mom but I was committed to still do the best I could. And I am. Still. But I also know and knew from before she was born that I’m a better mom if I can still be myself too. I’d get one night out a month to be me. To help keep my sanity. I’d go out the dinner or the bar, see friends, drink, and occasionally but not every time use again. But I still stuck to my rule. No more than half a gram, gone by the time I got home, usually just getting some because man I was tired and couldn’t stay awake past 10pm otherwise. And when my night out was done, I’d still be up the moment my little got up and was back in full time mom mode.

As time went on I’d get a few more than one night a month, still only get a half gram but friends share too so sometimes I wouldn’t even get any, for special occasions I’d splurge and get a gram. But I share too so I never do it all myself. But I always stuck to the most important of my rules. Once it’s gone it’s gone. And preferably it needs to be gone that same night (or weekend if I got it Friday but didn’t plan to actually go out until Saturday night)

And my self control hasn’t wavered. My priorities still stand above all. My daughter, my job, my well being. I commend myself that I pulled myself from such severe addiction to where I am now. And that I still am capable of using recreationally but that I have enough self awareness to understand even with self control I was an addict and I let myself get to that point and I need to be conscientious about my choice to use recreationally so it doesn’t get to that point again. I was open with my now partner about my past, and though they use with me on occasion (now it’s almost solely just for events as I really don’t go out otherwise) they let me be the one to dictate it. I purchase it, I hold it, I determine when we do it through the night, how much and how often. So that I still make sure it’s gone by the end of the evening. I even occasionally will buy more than the gram I allow for us to use, together, but only if it’s to save money because some of my friends put it ( say I want a gram but I have two more friends that want one too, I can get a ball with their money, and still have my gram and a half to get someone else to buy off me and end up making 50$ instead of spending 100$ for just our personal) but that’s ONLY if I have people collecting the extra amount as I still only allow us to have our gram for ourself and nothing more. Keeping any additional temptation to a minimum. Because that’s what I know works for me.

But of course that works for me because when it’s gone it gone as it should be. But this time it wasn’t. Instead of the ball I was getting for a wedding this past weekend, my guy gave me the wrong bag, purely by accident, instead I got double. And despite my efforts to sell the remaining 4 grams I hadn’t had pre planned buyers for by the end of the wedding, I wasn’t able to get rid of it. And I keep battling “eh it’s just extra anyway, what’s a line gonna hurt” over and over again. A battle I’m not winning. A battle I’ve continuously avoided having to even have by just NOT having anything leftover. Because as proud as i am of my self control since dragging myself from active addiction I still knew in the back of my head I cannot 100% trust myself to refrain from using if it’s available to use, so I just don’t leave any to keep using.

And here’s why. Because now it’s Wednesday morning at 3:04 am and I can’t fall asleep because I chose to keep using it, because my nose gets stuffy and runny from my use (just an after affect I usually suffer through the day after a night out as a reminder why it’s fun but only moderation because just like alcohol and hangovers, fun does come with a penance) but since I had some left, I didn’t suffer through it. Instead I found relief in its brief ability to open my sinuses back up after a line, in its ability to keep me up instead of groggy, and of course my own just crave for the taste. So every time the stuffiness gets to be too annoying, it’s right there, and another little line won’t hurt.

And usually with just one night of use, I take my last line just before bed. It opens my sinuses justtt long enough for me to be able to fall asleep because it's much harder for me to doze off with my mouth open and the amount in my system is just low enough for me to still relax my body enough to still fall asleep.

But now I've done a line, open my sinus, stuff back up, line, open, stuff back up, over and over, to the point I'm just awake still by the time it gets stuffy again, because theres too much in my system for me to doze off in my sweet spot window. And I am supposed to get up at 6 to go to work. And this is absolutely not okay to go to work with zero sleep. So yay. i fucked up and an addict is still an addict and this is a glaring reminder.

[sunshine-luca]

[ 🍦 ] - going out for ice cream late at night (Izzy)

(i apologize in advance how dumb this is but this is literally how they all bullshit in my head at any given time in the day 🙃)

--

[sometime in the future]

“God, you’re so boring now we can’t go out clubbing,” Luca complained teasingly, nudging Izzy with his shoulder. “You just had to go and get yourself knocked up, didn’t you?”

Izzy nudged him back, a dollop of her expensive gelato going flying as she did so. “Hey, it’s not like we’ll never go out dancing again. Besides, isn’t your man keeping you busy with work of your own these days?”

Luca scooped up another spoon of salted caramel ice cream. For a brief, insane moment, he’d considered trying something different like hokey pokey or choc chip but in the end, he’d found his favourite and had no interest in exploring other options.

A bit like how he felt about Ryan the first time they’d met. “Yeah, it’s been pretty fun. And Ry is really happy to be back in the air so much.”

“Is it weird? Having to step back now that Skye’s son is older?”

“Nah. I like having Ryan to myself to be honest. And plus, it means I can come visit your lame ass more often.”

Izzy blew a raspberry in his direction, making him laugh. He was teasing. There was absolutely nothing lame about Isobel Morrisini, queen of the Italian underworld and close ally to the O’Riain clan. She perched beside him on the edge of the penthouse’s private gardens, watching the eternal city that was Roma pass by below, beautiful and serene. From here, the ancient coliseum and scattered ruins were bathed in gold light. Luca loved visiting Izzy and Nico in Rome, but already he was homesick with the insistent tug calling back to the highlands and the stones.

“How far along are you now?”

Izzy rubbed her belly, the swell there only just starting to be obvious through the flowery sundress she wore. “Almost eight months. Sometimes it feels like it’s taking forever, sometimes I worry it’s going too fast. We’ve both wanted this so much.”

“I’m glad Vito’s gone now,” Luca said quietly, digging around for the last dregs of caramel. “You won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.”

Izzy gave him a telling glance. “Nor you. Lainey’s gone?”

“Yeah. Ry dealt with her. I should have let him deal with her years ago when she first started her shit but I was… I dunno. I think I was kinda smug. I didn’t know she could be so dangerous.”

“I don't think anyone could have. But she’s gone now. They both are. Now we get to live the rest of our lives with the men we love.”

“Yeah,” Luca brightened then swung his legs around to climb off the edge. He helped Izzy up too. “God, if Nico sees you like this, he’s gonna freak.”

Izzy laughed. “Oh, he knows. He just knows better than to argue with me now.”

“Still, precious cargo and all that.” Luca gestured to her belly.

“Do you want to feel him kick?”

“What?”

“The ice cream must have woken him up. He’s moving around.”

Luca found himself morbidly curious. Not that he hadn’t been around babies, Kate and Skye pumping them out like it was going out of style, but it was another thing entirely to feel one moving around on the inside.

It kinda grossed him out a little.

Izzy laughed at the expression on his face. “Luca!”

“What! Sorry, I know it’s the miracle of creation and blah blah, but like, isn’t it just, fucking weird? Like… that. In… there. I’m-“

Luca pulled a face, only causing Izzy to laugh harder. “It’s really not that weird.”

“Not to you,” Luca sniffed, but he gingerly poked her belly, only for Izzy to roll her eyes and flatten his palm against the curve of her stomach. “This feels very hetero,” he muttered, only for Izzy to shush him.

At first there was nothing, then a tiny little flutter. His eyes widened. “Holy shit!”

“See,” Izzy looked smug. “Not so weird.”

“Wow. Okay,” Luca pulled his hand away. “So if it’s a boy, you’re gonna call him Luca, right?”

Izzy covered her mouth, trying to hide her laugh. “Um. No.”

“Come on, it’s a good name. And I totally just bought you that gelato and snuck you onto the roof so like, naming your first born after me totally seems like a pretty good deal.”

“Your husband’s black credit card bough the gelato,” Izzy corrected, sweeping past Luca in a swirl of flowing sundress.

He trotted after her, undeterred. “Do you know what Luca means? Bringer of Light. Ry says it's perfect because I remind him of sunshine. How cool is that?”

“Luca-“ Izzy started.

“See, just look how much you already love saying it.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” she melted against him, clutching his arm and finally giving up on holding in her laughter. He giggled right alongside her until they made it downstairs and back onto the street. Across the road, the gelato sign was still lit up in a neon glow and the two black cars flanked its shopfront, ready to take them home once they’d had their fun.

Izzy’s hand tightened on his arm. “You know. I’m not sure I’m ready to go home yet.”

“Aren’t your feet aching? And other pregnant lady stuff? Kate always complains about her back hurt-ow!”

Izzy pinched his side, hard. “You are such a brat.”

“I know,” he grinned then tugged her back across the street. “Come on, let’s get seconds then!”

[diamondshapedcat]

Dehumanization. That's what it was. That's what it is. All I wanted was a place at the table, a level playing field. The opportunity to work among everyone else in the world.

That's what they told me in school. They said that I should think about what job I wanted when I was older. That there was so many options out there. So I picked one and started to learn how to fix cars. And they set me up to fail, probably thinking that this autistic person was just being silly for wanting to work. 'Awww he thinks he's people' 'Let the little guy pretend he's smart' All said behind my back of course but looking back I can tell they were thinking it. After 3 years of learning and unsuccessful applications I found out why I wasn't getting anywhere. In addition to the qualifications I needed hands on experience as well. Everyone else was working part time in a garage and never told me. I spent 3 years on a worthless degree because I never got the practical time to go with it.

But I foolishly didn't give up, I kept trying to make it work and be more flexible. I felt that I had to prove that I could do it and make something for myself. I learnt and listened to every bit of advice I could about interview skills and job hunting stuff. I picked up new skills, did the song and dance routine again and again.

But they were only interested in what I didn't have. A neurotypical brain. The world said you have to work, you have to get a job but that assumed that you were neurotypical. I kept going and going, listing to their false reassurances and lies that I would get it next time and I just need to try a little bit harder. Despite everything I kept going despite my mental health spiraling downwards into the toilet and suffering from depression. I dug my nails into the false hope that I would get it next time. I based my self worth on getting a job and that blinded me to every horrible ugly truth about this world. I felt like I had to get a job because I wanted to be able to look after myself without having to worry about anything. It was my world and I made it my sole reason for existing.

In 2021 I finally had enough and told my job advisor at the time to pull his finger out of his arse, stop bullshitting me and get me a job. Of course realising that I had seen through the lies he let me go.

That was a good day and even now it brings me a smile.

That was the day the pain stopped. The day I walked away. The day I regained my humanity. When the healing started.

For a while I kept applying for jobs on my own. trying out whatever tricks I could think of. Over the 15 or so years I lost, I notice that as time went on I met less with people and more with automated applications. It got worse, in other words. Another barrier put up to stop me. I struggled with people who didn't care and algorithms that couldn't care. If by some miracle I managed to get to a person, they would figure out I was autistic within 5 minutes and another day would be wasted.

The biggest thing I learned was that no was the only answer I would get. Again and again no matter what I did, I was told I was worthless. Come back where you are human. And I believed it. What I should have learned was that I should have told them to fuck off and not give a shit about their rigged game but that just made me try harder to prove myself. If my best wasn't considered human that what was I? Did I not have worth? Did the world see me as nothing more than a problem that no one wanted to deal with?

Dehumanization.

So that brings me to today. Free from the pain and discrimination but with too much time and nothing to do. I forgot how to be human and I'm relearning my self worth. Not to value myself entirely on my employment status.

I know that one day I am going to forced back into that hell, and I won't survive. I will be broken down again and again to the point so that when I finally throw myself off a bridge I won't feel anything when I hit the ground because I will already be dead inside.

For now I'm just going to try and enjoy life while I can.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Vampire

Day 19 of Fluffvember: vampire. Obviously set in the Vampire AU lol Kinda NSFW?

It’s been such a long day. A long damned day with that woman and Alphinaud being so sheltered that he cannot make a fire on his own. Fucking hells. At least…at least…there’s her.

Estinien’s thoughts continued to return to Agnes, the woman whom he had confessed his feelings for back in Ishgard and who just invited him to wash in hot spring inside a cave in Dravania. Away from Iceheart and the boy. Away from them…just us…

“There you are! I wondered if you’d show. You seem like you’re in an awful mood.” Agnes said with a small smile as she began removing her dress.

With a grunt, Estinien took off his helm. “My mood’s brightened considerably seeing you, sweetheart.” Tis still so wonderful and strange to call her that. She’s my sweetheart, and I’m hers. That she loves me without any hesitation, even knowing what I am, she is a miracle and perfect in every way. He froze when he heard Agnes gasp.

“Oh ‘Stinien! Are you alright? Do you need to feed?” Her face was painted with concern, now wearing only her bra and panties. Fury’s frozen tits, she’s gorgeous! Stunning! Beautiful! I AM SO HARD!

He glanced down into the water and saw his bloodshot eyes and veins in his face. Right, should probably feed. “I—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Let’s get in the water and relax. Then you can feed, love.” She quickly got nude and slowly walked into the water. “Oooooh this feels amazing.”

I BET YOU FEEL AMAZING WITH NO FUCKING CLOTHES ON!!!! As fast as he could, he took off the rest of his armor and clamored into the water next to her. “Agi, I—”

One of her very pretty fingers grazed his lips. “Shhhh, love. Do you want my neck or wrist? Whatever is easier for you.”

He gently guided her into his lap and kissed her. When she moaned into his mouth, he could feel himself simultaneously melting and getting harder. Fuck me. “Wrist, and you needn’t worry so.” Though I will always worry for you. That will never change. Trouble seems to find you so easily… He traced the pulse point on her wrist and brought it to his mouth.

“I, ah, will always worry, love.” She gasped (such a pretty sound, just like her voice) as his fangs sunk into her pale flesh. “Want to make sure you’re alright…”

How is she so sweet? Both in nature and taste? How am I so lucky? So blessed? Agi, my Agi, my beautiful angel. Estinien sucked and grunted, all while trying to keep his gaze upon her face. There are none more beautiful than her. None with her heart. None with her keen mind. None with her sweet voice. When his mouth released her wrist, droplets of blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, he gasped and kissed her soundly. She’s healing the wound, which means I haven’t fed too much. Good, good. I never wish to harm her. She’s far too precious to me. “Agi?” His voice was hoarse as his nose rubbed against hers.

“Hmm?” She hummed and pressed a few light kisses to his lips and jaw. “You feeling better, love?”

He nodded, wrapping an arm around her ample waist. Fury touching her is perfect. She’s perfect. “Aye. Now, let me tend to you…”

To his surprise, she wrapped her long arms around his neck and snuggled closer to him. “Let’s stay here for a bit, love. We deserve some rest together…”

“Heh, not afraid of Iceheart and little lord Alphinaud coming after us?” He teased.

His lady snorted. “No! After all, I already told them we’d be indisposed for some time.” She giggled and then rested her head against his. “Hold me, Estinien…”

Always.

[lonelygamedev]

7DFPS

*I know it's been several months sense the last devlog. Let alone one on the main project. I'll try to get back to it soon. but back to the main subject matter So...I decided to join a Game Jam, the 7 Day FPS game jam specifically. I made a small package that contained a Finite state machine, some sight's and that's about it. Other then that, i'm on my own. I knew what I wanted to make, basically awhile ago I made a prototype that had a really nice movement system. And I wanted to create a little arena/wave system out of it Halfway through I sorta knew that it won't end up like how I wanted it too. I learnt that game jams aren't really about making what you hope for and more about learning new thing's from a quick prototype. So in the spirit of that, what did I learn? 1: A fact about scoping I've alway's had a issue with scope. But this game jam taught me something. While making a "big idea" may sometimes be the case(especially depending on the jam). But it goes a bit deeper. It isn't just what sounds big or if it as alot of deep mechanics. you really have to consider alot of core elements about it. I learnt this when I realized just how time consuming 3D is. Especially for the type of game i'm making. I Spend several hours on especially breakable movement for this game. When If i was making a 2D game I would have already done it in a hour or two. a 3D game takes everything difficult and rises it to the power of 3. Movement? well you gotta account many forms of rotation. types of movement along with gravity etc. Enemies? well now you gotta deal with advanced pathfinding and annoying broken physics along other aspects. Art takes far more time now especially if your making textures. Animation is harder now. etc etc etc I now really now what I should try to look for when considering scope. I'd imagine if I designed a 2d game first then added 3D. I would likely have time to add sound and art 2: Writing on paper works wonders It's quite nice being force to come up with a list and quickly come up ideas. In 2 days I manage to get 4 enemies and 6 weapons. which is quite nice if I say so myself 3: There's a difference between Coder art and No art Almost everything in this game is cubes, including all the enemies. It made alot of thing's hard to tell. especially if I hit a enemy. and if they're attacking. Hell if It would've been alot better if I just took a bit of time. Coded a stun system along with some simple animations just to make it slightly satisfying and easier to concentrate on what's going on 4: Test it alot more and make sure to purposely try and break it. The movement felt good at first. But eventually there came a point where the more I play the more I saw more issues and it became unstable. It became really annoying when I try to play the game and test the design. When the movement goes against me when there was little time. I should've purposely tried to break it so I got the core of the game alot better And I think that's about it. Overall i'm glad I got a game that have even the coding foundation for level progression. roster of weapons and guns. But alot of the potential is wasted due to time mismanagement. quite a miracle that I even finished it You can play it here. good luck getting pass level 2 lol https://lonelygamedev.itch.io/bad-fps-game

[bouffees]

SVT was misdiagnosed as anxiety/panic attacks for years. I'm afraid it's hurt my heart. Anyone with SVT, how long did you go before they finally caught in on EKG? Will I be the same again?

I'm a female 30 years old. I pretty suddenly about 5 years ago started getting these extremely fast heart racing episodes (thought it was panic attacks induced from smoking pot, because it started happening everytime I smoked, even though I was a long time 10+ years pot smoker at that point and never had SVT episodes before) and around the same time I actually suffered a concussion. This concussion was also misdiagnosed at first as panic attacks/ anxiety, even psychosis (I thought I was going crazy, feelings I had was never like anything I've felt before and they really sucked, I even quit my job at the time because I just couldn't even see straight) until I convinced a Dr to give me an MRI and CT scan of my brain, which resulted in evidence my brain was healing from a concussion, a week and a half after the fact. During the concussion my svt episodes became worse (still thought it was anxiety/panic attacks so didn't call 911) but I was able to get them to stop after learning how to on my own (bearing down/trying to take deep breaths and holding them slightly) until it became harder and harder to rid them. After 2 1/2 weeks, I woke up one day finally feeling normal out of nowhere. It was like a miracle. Except svt episodes still occured. Still thinking it was just panic attacks, I thought really nothing of it.

Fast forward to 3 weeks ago, I got an episode I couldn't stop. This scared me so much, I was in svt for about 30 mins and called EMT, telling them I couldn't get my "heart palpitations" to stop. I originally thought they were heart palpitations caused by anxiety (cause that's what they always told me) until the EKG of 230 bpm proved otherwise and paramedics said I'll probably have to be on heart meds or have ablation. This is where I learned svt was even a thing. They had to shoot me with adenasine 3 times to get it to stop (6mg, 12mg and 12mg) and that was so dreadfully scary, but also relieved when it stopped... Weirdest feeling ever. They asked if I had a history of anxiety, which I do, and said this is why it was misdiagnosed for years.

I realize now I've had countless episodes. It used to be a few times a week, sometimes I'd go a week or 2 without episodes, but never a full month I don't think. I guesstimate about 50+ svt attacks in the last 5 years. It got to the point where I can't do any cardio excersize without an episode. Chest pains that I thought was anxiety, was probably angina this whole time, and it's happened a lot.

I'm seeing a cardiologist for my first time on the 13th (soonest appt I can get thanks Kaiser) and my primary put me on propranolol 10mg twice a day and still get flutters almost everyday. Thinking about taking it three times a day now. I was 3 weeks without an episode until the other night, caused by me simply riding my shopping cart to my car like a skateboard (I know silly something I've always done tho) and it's crazy that just that short and very little of excersize was enough to set it off. I didn't have my medication on me, and home was 30 mins away, and even tho I wasn't really in full svt, perhaps from the propranolol (maybe 150 bpm as opposed to 230 bpm that was recorded on EKG before) I was still about to have a bout and my anxiety was thru the roof. I took my propranolol as soon as I got thru the door and called 911, and thankfully it subsided as the paramedics got to me. They did an EKG to make sure (I was at 98bpm but irregular beat) and 10 minutes later I was back to regular heartbeat and 80 bpm, blood pressure was a bit high though (140/something)

I quit cigs (smoked since I was 17), pot (smoked since I was 15) and even coffee, I used to drink about 2 cups everyday for years. I pretty much quit all cold turkey just from being scared of SVT. My grandma died at 68 of a heart attack (probably from smoking cigs, which did a toll her to after she beat breast cancer not long before I'm sure) and my dad died 2 1/2 years ago from a heart attack as well, but he didn't smoke cigs for more than 10 years of his life (quit when he was 30), he was 59 when he died. He was a chronic pot smoker his whole life however and hbp but refused to take meds (as a pharmacy tech now, I'm mad at myself for not making him take his meds, as they might have saved his life).

I don't know if I'm just ranting at this point, or really want to try and find someone I can relate with on this matter and if my heart might heal. Will I ever dance again? I love dancing but I'm so afraid of SVT now. Will ablation be my only option? I actually really want it, the propranolol gives me horrible vivid dreams every single night, but will doctor just keep trying different meds until I don't get episodes anymore? The thing is, I don't wan to "wait and see", I want ablation more than meds but afraid doctor will just try everything before ablation is on the table. Is having 50+ svt episodes enough to consider me for ablation? I know most say svt is benign but I'm afraid it's not in me... My heart feels weaker than ever and I'm only 30. Has anyone had this many episodes and are fine now? I really need to know...

submitted by /u/JuLarxene [link] [comments] from For issues related to heart disease, cardiac health and cholesterol control https://ift.tt/3OXFCMo

[rere-the-writer]

Can I request a fic where Hayley isn't the only one having a miracle Mikaelson baby? Like where Elijah had a one-night stand and instantly likes his own baby mama.

Warnings: Fluff, A bit of smut, Protective Elijah, Jealous!Hayley, child birth

Elijah was upset with Katherine when he learned that she killed Jeremy and used the excuse that it was a need of survival. Elijah had stopped in a bar to get a drink as he got your attention as you looked him over. You snapped Elijah out of his thoughts when he felt your hand on his arm making him look at you seeing the small little black dress you wore that showed off your curves.

"Buy you a drink?"

It only took seven drinks and a few dances for Elijah to find hisself in your bedroom of your apartment pounding into you. Your moans and cries filled Elijah's ear as it drove him to fuck you harder while your body perfectly mold against his. There was marks on your neck as he held your hips, you moaned arching feeling like Elijah was trying to ruin all men for you.

"Fuck.....you're still tight sweetheart." Elijah growled his hips snapping into you feeling you bite his shoulder as your nails raked down his back letting out a silent cry. Elijah raised one of your legs over his shoulder as he felt a need to bite you as he nuzzled your neck there was something about you that made him want all of you.

"Go....ahead and have...a taste." You said panting as Elijah pulled away looking down at you surprised you knew what he was.

"Witch. Now are you going to move or do I need to finish this myself?" You tells him then you squealed out when Elijah snapped his hips against yours before leaning down to your neck. The sound you made when the vampire sank his fangs into your neck pulled a deep growl from his chest.

You cling to Elijah as he got rougher with his thrusts as you came with Elijah following behind. Your chest was heaving Elijah licked the blood off your neck as his hands moved along your body and pressing kisses on your skin.

"Such a beautiful little witch."

"Hmmm and you are every handsome vampire. Staying?" You questioned as Elijah had pulled out and began to moved to clean you up. Elijah paused looking at you kissing your abdomen thinking of other ways he could have you.

"Is that alright?"

"Yeah, sure." You mumbled sleepily letting Elijah get back in bed next to you and pulled you close as you both fell asleep.

Elijah was annoyed after having to head for New Orleans because of Klaus and learning his brother had gotten a female wolf pregnant. Elijah found hisself longing for your touch even though he only spent two nights with you, the vampire wanted you but he knew he couldn't just go off and find you.

"Elijah?" Elijah stopped walking with Rebekah having heard your voice and turned to see you. You were standing with a smile on your beautiful face dressed in yoga pants and over-sized sweater, you couldn't help but snort a laugh feeling the vampire cup your face planting kisses on your face.

"Little witch, why are you here?"

"Seeing my cousin. I am trying to find out how can a vampire knock me up." You tell Elijah watching him pull away looking at your abdomen seeing your baby bump. With a shaky hand, Elijah touched your bump upset you were pregnant by another as he felt like he some kind of claim on you when he fed from you.

"He is yours." You say softly snapping Elijah out of his thoughts as he smiled leaning down kissing you gently pulling you closer deepening the kiss when Rebekah clear her thoat as Elijah coughed after pulling away quickly making you giggle.

"Rebekah meet Y/N, Y/N meet my sister."

"So you are the witch that made my brother forget about the old hearted bitch known as Katherine."

"Oh thank God, someone else feels the same way about her as I do." You say as Rebekah smirked liking you already and took you away from Elijah. The older Mikaelson followed after you both smiling glad that Rebekah liked you as Elijah wasn't planning to let you go.

"A pregnant witch brother?" Klaus questioned smirking seeing how Elijah watched your every move as you walked with Rebekah.

"It appears she is pregnant with my child."

"How?"

"So when Klaus knocked up the wolf. It temporarily jumped started your family's magic undoing your vampirism." You explain gently taking Elijah's hand cutting his finger to use his blood to confirm the pregnancy to calm Klaus.

"What does this mean?"

"It means Klaus's child is a powerful witch. This magic hadn't been seen since Esther." You answer Rebekah feeling Elijah touch your bump listening to his son's heart beat as Klaus looked at you with a smirk.

"Welcome to the family, little witch."

Elijah had became overly protective of you the more you began to show and Hayley was surprised when she came back from being with the wolves. Hayley couldn't help but feel jealous with the affection Elijah showed you.

Elijah had only gave Hayley the affection he would give Rebekah as he was always peppering you with kisses and cupping your belly. If you were sitting down Elijah is placing kisses on your bump, talking to his son which was how Hayley found Elijah again only you were in sweatpants and one of his old shirts as Elijah was gently rubbing your belly while you were half asleep on the couch.

"I can't wait to meet you, my boy. Your mother is the most powerful witch I have ever met and to be honest kinda scares me."

"Good." You say in a teasing tone making Elijah look at you smiling as he moved his hands along your belly before kissing you lightly. Hayley turned away to look for Rebekah to ask her who you were as jealousy bubbled in her chest.

"Have I told you how breath taking you look?"

"Last night and this morning you did." You tell Elijah running your fingers though Elijah's hair feeling him move closer pressing more kisses on your skin. Elijah moved sitting behind you having you lean back against him as his hand was on your belly.

"He is strong one." Elijah says softly feeling the baby kicking and nuzzled your neck. You sighed relaxing against Elijah lacing your fingers with his as you both fell asleep on the couch.

Hayley couldn't believe what Rebekah told her about you and how you were a powerful witch that was pregnant with Elijah's child. Hayley watched Elijah rub your back tell you sweet nothings as you were having contractions as a midwife was readying things for delivery.

"I swear to all holy....that I will dagger you if you don't shut up." You hissed at Elijah as he just smiled at you knowing you were just stressed.

"Rebekah, what is going on?"

"Y/N is in labor. Apparently Elijah's son decided to wait for Elijah to propose." Rebekah said smirking seeing Hayley frown.

"Elijah was asking Y/N to marry him?"

"Yes, Y/N seemed to win my brothers heart."

Your yelling and screaming had been heard for seven hours and Hayley didn't see Elijah until early morning when he was nexting his bedroom where you were asleep.

"Elijah....oh your son." Hayley said seeing the new born in his arms who awake and Elijah wanted you to get some rest.

"Yes little Aiden here doesn't seem tired." Elijah says smiling at Aiden as the vampire had already adored his son and Hayley saw Elijah's eyes hold a warmth and affection for the baby in his arms.

"Congrats on being a new father."

"Thank you Hayley." Elijah said gently rocking Aiden when the boy was about to cry but quieted down. Hayley looked at Aiden seeing how the baby was a perfect mix of you and Elijah.

"So you and Y/N."

"Yes what about us?" Elijah asked as Hayley followed him down stairs so his siblings could see Aiden.

"Are you really going to marry her?"

"I am." Elijah tells her making Hayley stop as she felt jealousy fill her watching the siblings fawn over Aiden as the hybrid felt like she couldn't give up on Elijah and decided to fight for him.

"Elijah?" You mumbled sleepy feeling Elijah slip into bed behind you and saw Aiden laying asleep on his own spot on the bed.

"Sleep, baby. I apologize for waking you." Elijah whispered peppering your neck with kisses as you settled back against him.

"Okay.....love you night."

"Goodnight, I love you too." Elijah chuckled lacing his fingers with yours waiting until you fell back to sleep before slipping the engagement ring on your finger as a surprise when you woke up. Elijah layed watching over you and Aiden for a moment before sleeping hisself adoring his little family.

[beyondspaceandstars]

That Black Tee

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, fingers, slight metal arm kink, sex against a wall, semi-public sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: It was such a simple thing. Just a simple black tee-shirt. But the way Bucky wore it had you practically melting -- and he seemed to realize it, happily granting your needs A/N: idk guys there was just something about that black tee-shirt bucky wore in episode 4 of TFATWS. it got my mind wandering. and i love practicing writing smut i hope im getting better at it lmao

Masterlist

You knew you absolutely, utterly fucked the second Bucky took off his jacket, revealing that damn black tee.

So simple yet so fitting, so accentuating. He looked casual and cool yet incredibly powerful and dominant with that metal arm fully on display thanks to the short sleeves. Between that damn shirt and the hard expression he wore, you were pretty much done for. It took all you might to not march over to him right that second.

Bucky appeared to be aware of all this as he turned to you, feeling your eyes wandering shamelessly over him in that shirt. He just looked so… him. Not a soldier, not some asset, just him. And he was hot.

He shot you a little smirk, making your eyes widen, suddenly unreasonably worried your boyfriend could read your mind.

You two must’ve been too caught up in your silent communication because the next thing you heard was Sam asking if you were okay.

You jumped and forced yourself to look away from Bucky. "Yeah, Sam," you nodded, "I’m fine."

He hummed, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

But before you could answer, Bucky felt it was his time to chime in. "She’s a little distracted."

Your eyes widened again, this time sending a signal to your boyfriend to shut the hell up. He wouldn’t look at you and instead just laughed to himself.

"Distracted?" Sam questioned.

"I- I’m fine, really-,"

Bucky cut you off, "Actually, I need to talk with her about something."

Your jaw went slack as you tried finding some words of explanation, something to save yourself from this situation as you could see Sam’s concern growing. But nothing was able to come out before Bucky was grabbing your hand.

"You can’t talk to her out here?" Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, profusely. "It’s a very private matter. Incredibly serious. Just between me and her."

"Bucky-," you just about yelped as he started walking to one of the off-shoot rooms from the living space. Sam tried asking more questions but Bucky promptly shut him down by slamming the door. Hard. It was a miracle the thing didn’t just fall right off its hinges. For whatever reason, that suddenly turned you on even more.

You stood there in the middle of the room watching as Bucky slowly turned to you. He had a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took in your nervous yet needy state. Your thighs were practically in pain from how hard you were trying to squeeze them together, wanting some relief to your core that was set ablaze by him. Him and that damn outfit. That damn hair. His damn face- God, you just needed your boyfriend right now.

Bucky walked towards you slowly, intensely. You tried averting your eyes to save yourself from crumbling but he stopped you. His fingers came to your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He appeared to be just as eager.

"What happened back there, doll?" He asked just barely above a whisper. He held your chin firmly.

"What- What do you-,"

He chuckled. The fucker chuckled at your flustered state. "What do I mean? I mean that look you were giving me. How those eyes were peeling off my clothing piece by piece. Made me want to take you right there."

Bucky’s words went straight to your core. The wetness was pooling profusely, practically soaking through your jeans. You let out a little whimper as his thumb brushed over your lip.

"It’s your tee-shirt," you whispered, surprised that you could even find any sort of words in your dazed brain. He was way too intoxicating.

Bucky’s face shifted in surprise. "My shirt?"

You nodded. "It just… looks good on you."

He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle. You pouted at his reaction which he took as the opportunity to quickly place a kiss on your lips. You tried moving into him, grinding your body with his to beg for more, but he stopped, forcing you two apart.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled as his hand left your chin and slowly made its way down your body. Over the curve of your clothed breast, down your stomach, to your hips… the hand finally dipped under the waistline of your jeans. Without much warning, two fingers traced your folds, dipping slightly in to collect the wetness. He gave a few thrust, teasingly. Bucky groaned. "You’re this wet just from how I look in my shirt?"

You gasped, nodding. Embarrassment wanted to coarse through you but the pleasure from Bucky tracing his fingers to your clit was too much. Slowly, he started with circular motions, making your body jolt. You squealed in surprise. Bucky smiled down at your reaction.

He kept it up, adding pressure every now and then as he continued. Your legs began to shake forcing you to grip his arms in support. Bucky noticed this and brought his metal hand to your hip, steadying you.

He picked up the pace, his eyes boring into yours intensely. You let out a breathy moan at the sight of him, looking at you so hungry and aroused.

"Come on, honey, cum for me," he mumbled, still working on your clit. Every now and then he’d stop to dip a finger in as if gaging your wetness. In those moments you’d groan, waiting for the contact to come back. He never let you suffer long, though, finding his way back to your clit quickly, keeping the pressured motions. "Be a good girl and cum for me, doll, and I’ll fuck you real nice against the wall just like you deserve."

That was the final straw. His words alone practically sent you over the edge. Your body shook as the first orgasm pulled through you, lighting fire throughout your body. Your hips bucked and twisted uncontrollably, almost trying to get away from the touch but Bucky didn’t lighten up. He worked you through it, whispering sweet praises in your ear, making you lose it even more.

Once you came down from the high, Bucky wasted absolutely no time gripping your hips and pushing your back to the nearest wall. You yelped in surprise before his lips attached to yours, rough and demanding.

He lifted you up and grabbed your legs, circling them around your waist. You took the opportunity to grind into him feeling his erection hit your covered core. It lit a new fire in you making you gasp at the feeling.

Bucky moved his lips down your face to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You whined and grabbed onto that fucking tee shirt, still trying to push into him, wordlessly begging him to speed up.

"Eager, doll?" Bucky asked. You could practically hear the dumb smile on his face and it made you want to slap it off. But all you could do in response was nod.

He placed one more kiss on your lips before his hand made its way back down your body. This time he popped the buttons of your jeans open. Briefly, he placed you back down to pull your jeans to your ankles. When that task was done, you were back wrapped around his waist, now feeling the erection more prominently. You let out a deep, uncontrollable moan when it hit.

As if he understood your annoyance, Bucky quickly undid his own jeans. In your dazed state, you must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, your panties were just pushed to the side and his cock was breaching your walls. You two were in sync letting our moans and groans at the warmth, the wetness.

His arms held you tight as he began his thrusts, so precise and strong. You were backed into the wall forcefully, enjoying the pressure and pleasure combining into one. Your boyfriend groaned above you, sounds going right to your core which was made evident by the squelching sounding in the room.

Bucky kept his thrusts up as his metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. His body held you up with his other arm, giving you a second to marvel in his strength. It was always such a treat when it came out in the bedroom. How he could hold you down or hold you up had your mind spinning half the time.

As his thrusts began to pick up, his metal hand started with the circular motions again on your clit. The coldness meeting your warmth was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands fisted his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. You let out a surprised moan at the whole sensation which Bucky seemed to like as he gripped you harder. Your brain was going fuzzy, drunk even, as he pounded you into the wall flawlessly.

"Bucky… B-Bucky…" you choked out.

"Hmm?" You could tell he was staring at you despite your eyes being fluttered shut. He was taking in every inch of your face contorting in glorious pleasure. It seemed to drive his thrusts faster, the circular motions on your clit picking up as well.

"I- I’m gonna-,"

"You gonna cum again, doll?" He asked, a little mockingly. You would’ve bit back if you weren’t in this state but you couldn’t do anything, just take what he was giving. You nodded weakly. "Alright, honey, that’s it… Cum for me, come on. I got you."

It was like Bucky flipped that last switch as his strength and speed picked up. You yelped, clinging to his shirt even tighter.

One final push on your clit was all you needed before you were crumbling in his arms. Your body shook as your orgasm flooded you with ecstasy. Bucky didn’t want to let up with the trusts, though, chasing his own orgasm and thoroughly working you through your second. He kept pounding, his hand opting to leave your clit to grope at your breasts under your shirt. The metal hitting your skin in a new place made you squeal again.

The sounds and motions were it for Bucky as the next thing you knew, he released inside you, coating your walls and thrusting in and out, letting it leak onto your skin. You moaned at the sensation.

Bucky gave a couple more weak thrusts before he let out a final groan and stilled inside you. Both his arms now were around your waist, pulling you close as you two panted, coming down from the pleasure.

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Your hands left his shirt and came up to his hair, where you ran them through his short locks.

"Was that what you needed, doll?" He asked, voice breaking through the heaviness of the room.

You giggled, "Exactly what I needed."

"Hmm," he sighed and straightened back up. He pecked your lips. "Guess I gotta wear this shirt more often."

You gasped, slapping his chest lightly as he laughed. But you couldn’t totally disagree. "I wouldn’t complain if it made an appearance every now and then."

Bucky shook his head, "I don’t understand how a black tee shirt can get you going, doll."

After he spoke, he slowly removed himself from you, letting you down from the wall. Warm wetness began soaking your thighs feeling so intimate, so hot, it almost made you almost suggest round two right then and there but that didn’t seem on the table after Bucky handed you some tissues to clean up. Not to mention the fact there were people in the living area.

You shrugged, readjusting your shirt and pulling your jeans back on. You watched as Bucky also readjusted his appearance. "It’s because it’s on you," you insisted. "You could walk around in the most ridiculous outfits and I’d still beg you to jump my bones."

Bucky let out the most joyous laugh at that. He walked back towards you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed a kiss on his lips, which he hummed happily into.

"I’m flattered," he mumbled. The light blush across his cheeks confirmed his words.

You smiled, "What can I say? I got a hot boyfriend and he should know it."

Bucky placed another kiss on your lips. "Oh, trust me, I think he knows it now."

You let out a giggle and pulled away from his grip, despite a little protest. "Come on," you said and motioned towards the door, "we should probably leave this room before we get any shit from them."

"Oh, you’re getting a lot of shit once you come out of that room," Sam called from the other side of the door, making both you and Bucky jump. "Might as well stay in here."

You groaned at the words, your face and neck suddenly becoming hot in embarrassment. Bucky just chuckled, somehow finding everything amusing, and wrapped an arm around you.

"Worth it, though," he whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t at all argue. Just glancing between the wall and that black tee made you suddenly hot and bothered all over again.

Bucky picked up on your gaze, once again practically reading your mind. With a suggestive smirk, he asked, "Round two?"

You bit your lip as his hand began running over the curve of your ass.

"Fine."

Bucky didn’t waste a single second before whisking you off your feet

[idiacide]

Request for Headmage Crowley's reaction when you ask him for a date? (Seriously, there isn't enough Crowley love out there!)

TRULY dire crowley puts on the plague mask every day, and for what? No bitches??????? (For the sake of this I'm just gonna assert, Reader isn't a student lmao).

Dire Crowley

So here's the thing about asking him on a date.

You have to actually get a word in edgewise to do that.

This is gonna be harder than you thought.

Sure, you'd think the strategy would just be to head him off at the pass, try to open the conversation yourself and just say your piece before he had the chance to interrupt. Foolish naivety on your part.

"So Dire," You said, sliding up next to him in the library. "We've been seeing each other for a bit now and-"

"Yes we have! Also, my friend, I'd ask that you keep your voice down. This IS a library after all."

"....Right," You say, tactfully sidestepping the fact that his booming voice cut through the silence far louder than your whispered inquiry did. You drop your voice a little anyways. "And I was-"

"Oh, I don't mean to be harsh with you." He shakes his head almost mournfully, the beak of his mask nearly smacking you in the face as he puts an understanding hand on your shoulder.“I simply wish to keep this as a space where my students can study and sharpen their abilities with optimal focus.”

“That makes-”

“I’m such a benevolent educator, aren’t I?”

“Yes-”

“Aaah, but if only that benevolence could help me here.” He gives another somber shake, releasing your shoulder to gesture at the massive books open in front of him. “Quite the puzzle before me, do you think perhaps-”

“Dire!” You say, a whisper that comes out more like a hiss than you mean it to. You feel your face heating up when he turns back to you, mouth still half open. Still, you’ve stepped off the board, only thing left to do is twist this into as graceful a dive as you can. 

“I was....I was wondering if...y-you’d maybe like to go get some coffee, or something.” You barrel through the last words like a high speed train, god is it hot in this library or is it just him.

Crowley doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, a miracle in and of itself. You see some flickering behind the dark glass of his mask that might be blinking. “...To discuss this matter further...?”

“If you’d like.” You say quickly, before he has the chance to pick up steam again. “But I was thinking of it more...like a date.”

Silence.

“If that’s something...that you’d be into. With me.”

More silence, goddamn is this a library or something. For a split second you almost spit out a just kidding...Before his mouth twists into a smile so sweet its almost childish.

“I must say, I’m a little flabbergasted, my friend.” He snaps the book closed, not breaking his gaze with you even as he rises in a fluid motion to stand. Crowley slides it back onto the gap in the shelf it came from, his magic whipping the others on his desk off to their home sections. “You beat me to it.”

“I....what?”

“Come along!” He holds out his hand to you, beckoning almost impatiently. “I’ll do better than coffee, dinner is much more appropriate for an evening of this nature.”

“Right.....right now?!” Now its your turn to have your flabber thoroughly gasted. You stare at his palm like its an alien creature, until he flexes it once more and you slide your hand into it.

“Of course! It wouldn’t do for me to preach against procrastination to my students only to do the same in my own romantic life!” He tugs you to your feet and you find yourself nearly pressed against his chest as he ushers you out the door. 

Despite the fact that everything is happening, so much, right now, you can’t help but feel your heart beat a little faster at the proximity. His grip on your shoulder is warm and secure, and as he leads you into the corridor he beams down at you/ “Its a little short notice, but I have a place in mind that should give the proper ambience. My, but I am a generous man...”