#our teacher is about the same age as us and is evil why the fuck did we go from babys first house to a full human???? and esp the hand like

[hamletbot]

I had my first 3d modeling class today….

Its… Avantgarde

[kromlock]

A transcript of my relationship with JK Rowling

Joanne: Hey kid, would you like a decent children’s book? It’s a little dark but it’s also a fun quirky story about a magic school.

Me: Oh hey, I like lots of those things! Hey, this is pretty good for the stuff that’s usually aimed at my age group!

Joanne: Yes, cool. Here’s a sequel. It’s foreshadowing some political intrigue and has a gut wrenching portrayal of the horrors of slavery, but I swear it’s still for kids.

Me: Oh wow, this is even better than the first! Hey, you’re a pretty good mystery writer too.

Joanne: Why, thank you! Now this next one gives Harry some deep backstory.

Me: Wow, I love this! You did a great job shattering the illusion that James was such a great guy!

Joanne: I beg your pardon?

Me: Well, I mean, you kind of outed James as the bully, and like even though it doesn’t excuse his behavior at all, Snape was right about Harry’s dad.

Joanne: ……huh.

Me: And I loved the disability rights theme so much I didn’t notice the part where the central character in the disability metaphor then turns his condition into a deadly liability in a boarding school. Or the skin crawling ideological implications of that.

Joanne: Hold on a second. I have to do something.

Me: What’s up?

Joanne: Just jotting down notes. Snape…. Was… Right….

Me: Well I didn’t mean it like THAT…

Joanne: Skin crawling… ideological…. Implications…. Okay, all done. By the way, here’s an extra long book!

Me: WHOA HOLY HELL does the shit hit the fan here! The bad guy’s back in action, the government is Fucking Horrible, and the Avengers are assembling. And that gleam of triumph in Dumbledore’s eye! I bet you’re going somewhere great with that! God I can’t wait to find out what happens next. It’s just… umm… a couple things.

Joanne: Yeah?

Me: Why did it have to be so long? And I like plot twists and all but this was just weird and convoluted.

Joanne: No, but you see, more is better.

Me: Huh. I guess I see your reasoning there. But another thing I just realized. This is a bad school.

Joanne: Excuse me?

Me: It’s a death trap and the faculty is incompetent. 

Joanne: Dumbledore is a legendary sorcerer, philosopher, and warrior!

Me: But that doesn’t make him a good teacher! That’s a completely different skillset!

Joanne: And about the death trap! That’s because of Voldemort. He does evil things.

Me: Voldemort didn’t resurrect an ancient blood sport for children. The first event was throwing teenagers one by one into an arena with a pissed off dragon to just see what happens.

Joanne: They were all supposed to be of age, and the binding magic contract-

Me: They couldn’t just rewrite the contract? Do they have to use the exact same cursed artifact that they used thousands of years ago, with the only guard around it having easy exploits?

Joanne: ….

Me: Come to think of it, the other books were pretty fucked up too. It’s quicker to list the school years where someone doesn’t die on campus.

Joanne: I-

Me: And I don't mean "Old Professor Giddyfart passed away in his sleep last night. He was 239 years young." I mean "Our star pupil was murdered in cold blood by Wizard Hitler during our international child bloodsport tournament."

Joanne: Technically that was off-campus.

Me: "Last year our students almost had their souls stolen by undead horrors that were posted here -at a fucking school- because that’s a good idea. This was minutes after almost being mauled by our werewolf on staff."

Joanne: They were only there because they thought a convicted-

Me: "Oh, that was also the same day we had a former Nazi combatant come to lop off the head of a hippogriff who actually did maul another student for the dreadful crime of not paying attention in class.”

Joanne: 

Me: "Oh and the year before it turned out we just kinda had a basilisk in the plumbing and it kept turning students to stone, it was really annoying, totally disrupted the curriculum”

Joanne: But that was because-

Me: "Oh and the year before that one of our teachers was possessed by the still-living shade of Wizard Hitler. He set a troll loose in the school to try and steal our Bring-Shades-Back-To-Life Macguffin. We just figured it was the safest place because our unhinged headmaster is fucking Hercules, Perseus, and Theseus rolled into one. He could've taken a sabbatical to guard it without putting children in harm’s way, but he's just that quirky!"

Joanne: Well, perhaps Dumbledore isn’t all perfect-

Me: "What's that? Oh yeah, it's guarded by goddamn Cerberus, and a series of challenges even more dangerous than goddamn Cerberus. But don't worry, we sealed the door with a spell that a first year student can unlock."

Joanne: What are you getting at?

Me: Where’s the lawsuits? Absolutely nothing was done to rein Dumbledore in. Well, except for once and it was the one time the danger wasn’t his fault and it was at the behest of the bad guys and swiftly overturned.

Joanne: Government regulation?

Me: And what the fuck was with that “Hermione is an idiot for being against slavery” thing? That made me feel icky.

Joanne: Well, I will be right back!

Me: Oh, okay.

Me: Maybe that was a bit rude. Every story has its flaws.

Me: ….

Me: Wow, Lord of the Rings is really good.

Joanne: Here’s book 5! Harry Potter and the Reason Government Regulation Is Bad

Me: Uh… this is quite a bit longer than the last one.

Joanne: Yes.

Me: The one that I thought was way longer than it had to be.

Joanne: Yes.

Me: And I just read it, and like nothing happened in it. You took the shortest story so far and padded it out with a weird political manifesto.

Joanne: More is bette-

Me: And it’s not even good politics! Anyone but the most Randian hardcore libertarian would want to do something when a school actively contributes to the death of a student.

Joanne: Yeah but the person doing it is juuuuuust a fucking cunt.

Me: I mean, yeah I have to admit she was a pretty good villain. Kinda overshadows Voldemort though, you should really step up the menace in your main antagonist because all he’s done so far is get his ass kicked by a bunch of high school students.

Joanne: Ohhhh just you wait. Okay I’ll be right back.

Me: Oh, okay.

Me: I think we really connected that time.

Me: …..

Me: Huh, Revenge of the Sith was pretty good actually.

Joanne: Okay, this one is all about Voldemort. Also I heard you like Lord of the Rings, so you’re in for some good stuff!

Me: Do tell!

Joanne: So the One Ring was cool right?

Me: Oh yeah, it’s menacing as hell.

Joanne: Well Voldemort made SEVEN One Rings! You can One Ringify any object in this universe.

Me: …please tell me you gave it a name other than One Ring.

Joanne: I sure did! It’s called a Horcrux.

Me: ….Horcrux.

Joanne: You got it!

Me: …….so you can turn anything into a One Ring?

Joanne: You bet! And that diary from book 2 was a One Ring.

Me: Hey that’s a pretty cool retcon.

Joanne: Or maybe… I had it planned all along.

Me: No you didn’t.

Joanne: And just you wait, I have a big twist on those things coming in the next-

Me: It’s that Harry’s scar is a One Ring.

Joanne: …

Me: What? It’s kind of obvious.

Joanne: ….anyway they’re being super careful to make the school safe now so YOU’RE WELCOME. Plot hole fixed.

Me: This book ends with a bunch of Wizard Nazis infiltrating the school, assassinating the headmaster, spray painting a Wizard Swastika in the sky, trashing the place, and just walking out. So yeah, pretty safe. You know what, screw it. The movies are pretty good so I’ve tricked myself into still liking this shit. Hey, if you keep up your writing pace then Harry’s gonna graduate the same year I do! You gonna have the grand finale out in time?

Joanne: I sure am! Here it is, it’s more than worth the wait.

Me: WHOA now this is more like it! The last book was kind of a mess, but this? I love the dystopian setting and the breaking of the formula, and the moral complexity of Dumbledore, and you even managed to do some cool stuff with that Horcrux shit. And ohhh, the schoolgrounds are an actual castle so of course that’s where the final battle takes place, and it’s still fucked up that this is a school but that’s also pretty cool. And here’s the final confrontation, aaaaand…..

Joanne: And? And?

Me: …..what the hell was that ending?

Joanne: Excuse me?

Me: The bad guy dies on a weird wand ownership technicality? Not a whisper about freeing the slaves or undoing any of the other heinous shit the government does and permits? Harry names his son after the greasy incel who blew it with his mom when he shouted slurs at her and never got over it?

Joanne: Severus is a tragic figure who never stopped caring about the woman he loved!

Me: He held on to a creepy obsession with the idea of her while devoting his professional life to tormenting her surviving loved ones.

Joanne: He had to keep up appearances to fool Voldemort.

Me: He tried to poison a sensitive awkward child’s pet in front of his class, just because he could! Well before he was a blip on Voldemort’s radar! You know what, the movies have been doing a pretty good job cleaning up this mess so far, so I guess your job’s done. Oh, one more thing. I still don’t know what the hell was up with that gleam of triumph in Dumbledore’s eye?

Joanne: Oh, that’s a thing to do with his blood and Lily’s protection and the power of love and-

Me: You didn’t have anything planned, got it.

Joanne: Well, I never! I bid you farewell! And by the way, you were wrong! Harry’s scar wasn’t a One Ring! Harry’s SOUL was a One Ring!

Me: …okay, bye 

Me: Say, the movies really did clean up that bullshit. You know, I think the series was pretty good after all.

Me: ……

Me: Well the new God of War was a pleasant surprise-

Joanne: BACK BEFORE PLUMBING WIZARDS SHIT THEMSELVES!

Me: Uh, what?

Joanne: THE AMERICAN TERM FOR MUGGLE IS “NO-MAJ”

Me: Is this a troll account?

Joanne: DID I MENTION TRANS PEOPLE ARE A BLIGHT?

Me: Oh no, this is just awful. Please stop tarnishing your weirdly good reputation.

Joanne: I WILL NOT BE SILENCED! MY NEW BOOK IS ABOUT HOW INTERNET TROLLS ARE BEING MEAN TO MEEEEE

Me: You know, maybe I can do without Harry Potter in my life.

Joanne: I’M BEING CANCELLEEEEEEDD

[diatribeofamadman]

#8

I chose to be greedy today, so don't get upset thinking I'm spouting hatred towards others, I always hate myself the most. A sad truth considering I was recently shown by someone that you can't love anyone if you don't love yourself... I argue that you're delusional if you just love yourself. A healthy self-aware human being will like and dislike or love and hate things about themselves. Too much self-love and your narcissistic, too little and your chronicly depressed. It's all about starting on square one. And for me that means myself and my country (America). As much as any American wants to stand on a soapbox and spout self-righteous nonsense to another nation, we need to get real with ourselves, I'm pretty sure we should just shut up. We live in the most corrupt nation in the world. Our leaders have implemented revolution, riots, murders, mass murders, genocide, you name it we paid for it or encouraged it. As far as God is concerned we've got to be some of the worst people ever. Even those of you that have never committed a sin against another person but dwell inside the belly of the beast blissfully in your ignorance.

So instead of ranting about geopolitics or other nations neglecting their people, I'll rant about us neglecting our own responsibilities and duties as a nation to ourselves and our fellow citizens. And a bit about the systems we've established that separate, divide, and destroy us as a people and a nation.

First issue is that we have a non-multigenerational education process. We have segregated our people based off of their ages, creating a lack of transparency through the generations, allowing generations to operate in a fictitious and dare I say it delusional manner. Often times, this delusional generation makes choices that neglect all other generations. I'm looking at you boomers (greedy), millennials (selfish and greedy), and Gen xers (each guilty in their own way and yet also victims of a system designed to destroy them)....

Let's explore the idea of how limiting multigenerational interaction allows the evil overlords to limit individuals conscious awareness and ability to learn and grow. For instance, by separating a group of 6-year-olds and presenting them with a scenario they have to think through, they will be subject to the information they have available between them (if they're allowed to communicate). This means the group is as smart as the smartest 6-year-old. Obviously they are in a classroom where they are given the guidance of a teacher. Whereas, if you were to provide them with older children or even adults, they would inquire and trust in the information that they received from the older human beings. Prior to the internet information was so easy to corrupt because it relied on a person-to-person transfer (telephone game). And that's why written information became so valuable because it could be transcribed from the origin of the information and maintain its original format. Although we also see written word can be corrupted through revisions clearly visible in the modern Christian Bible, a 17th century revision which has become a standard. So we see written word was also fallible. Just as digital information will become fallible if you are not able to get it from a peer-reviewed source such as Wikipedia.

I feel like I'm going to get lost justifying my multi-generational classrooms or educational institutions, and not cover anything regarding student analysis and specified educational tracks. Let me start off with fuck "no child left behind", every kid is not the same, and teaching a child that because they excel in a physical trade or lacks the intellectual capacity to become a doctor or a lawyer is they need to try harder to fit that criteria is bullshit. There are many private educational institutes that understand the concept of analyzing a child and then facilitating that child's strengths and passions so that they might find success and happiness doing something they love or are good at. Why we can't adopt such a crucial method of education and social placement for children is ridiculous. We don't have to have kids killing themselves because they didn't score well like Japan, but we also don't need a bunch of drunk morons in business school. And we need people to remember the value of all the physical work that has to happen every day for all of the things people love to have to be available. As much as I want to keep preaching education, fuck you, it's my rant, I'm going into economic and inequality. Specifically regarding wage gaps. Until we fix our economy regarding its structure and the pay scale disparagey between a person that works everyday and a person that already has money to work with everyday, we're never going to be able to deal with our issue regarding education.

Realizing that where we've really failed in education is removing home economics, all shop classes (if not gone, on the way out at least in urban schools), and not incorporating agriculture, nutrition, and personal finance into the 12-year education program, might help us understand that we can incorporate those into an education system that is based on reality in regards to helping place children in jobs where they won't be miserable instead of feeding them pipe dreams or our own failed dreams as parents. Every kid should be taught they can be an astronaut or a president or Oprah Winfrey, they should also never have the understanding that they can achieve greatness affect their ability to operate as a normal human being. One of the greatest issues facing the young generation now is there attachment to their devices and their inability to utilize them for any good. It's all orgasms and laughing.... I deeply apologized to every person that fits the demographic I briefly disclosed and ridiculed if you're not a scum-sucking piece of shit and you're trying your best. No matter what it is, I'd be in the group of you that would read this and then feel guilty and be mad at me. Fuck you. Stop being a snowflake. If you working your ass off and when I said offends you good. I like you. Work harder. Fuck your generation. Fuck my generation. All the pieces are on the board. Everyone's playing. So it's going to take all of us coming together if anything's going to change. Bye-bye now

Let's get real guys The problem is huge and it gets bigger and bigger and bigger the more you look at it. I'm pretty sure there's some physicists that get off on that. But when it's regarding how to structure human existence in a way that could limit suffering for all beings and maximize positive life experience and positive organic existence for the biosphere we live in, it's frustratingly increasing in scale and complexity. It's very frustrating that societal, political, religious beliefs and ideologies have created a reality that seems overwhelmingly complicated.

[dreadfutures]

Solas 👀 sorry I just had to ask xD

First impression

My first impression was of: "Oh, hell yeah, someone is here to tell me what the fuck is going on."

I hadn't played any other dragon age games, and starting off Inquisition I was probably just as confused as our poor Inquisitor, waking up in a dungeon. I had no idea about the Mage/Templar conflict, or about demons and spirits, or about the Fade, and Solas had all these answers.

"Guide me, teacher!"

Impression now

Much the same, but with the added belief in him as a labor activist, spymaster, and villain. He's kind and empathetic and heroic and yet he has made this choice to walk this path of death. It is an evil choice to destroy a world, for any reason. And all I want to know is: why. Why is there no other choice? I hold him firmly as a tragic villain, a hero in his own mind, someone so, so smart and capable and kind--and yet whose flaw of Pride has blinded him to less evil alternatives to accomplish his goals.

His softness is too often played up at the expense of his tragic hubris, and the true evil that he is certainly capable of and seems to have laid out in front of us; likewise his prickliness and hubris is often placed front and center and eclipses the true compassion and nobility and possibly empathy inherent in his character.

You know me. Why can’t both be true? I think that’s a better story.

Favorite moment

Solas--still new to the waking world after uthenera, still prickly and closed-off and cold, will get down to eye-level with injured refugees and speak with them and heal them when you get to the Crossroads after arriving in the Hinterlands. Even at a time when he’s likely the most convinced this world is not worth saving, even when he’s given off every signal that he considers Spirits better than mortal people, he gets down on the ground and seems to offer to help people hurting, scared, and in need.

Idea for a story

I mean. I would like to write the story of a young Inquisitor/mentee/accomplice to Solas swallowing all of his rhetoric and growing into someone he respects and loves--only for the student to surpass the teacher and push him on the places where he’s wrong, where he’s cynical, where he’s blinded, and make him question his ways that way. (((((((: someday

Unpopular opinion

Solas’s plan, from all the details that we canonically know, is genocide and is wrong and shouldn’t be advocated for. And Solas’s plan also makes 0 sense given the information and experiences he’s had by the end of Inquisition and I think the full story is more complicated than “he’s a genocidal maniac and is rotten to the core.”

Favorite relationship

With Dorian.

Favorite headcanon

He has always been Pride.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

My Rumsfeld and Cheney story.

***

I am in my late 20s and have been at my job in the White House for several months. Despite my age, I have been handed the task of helping to organize and arrange the administration’s new initiative to expand the humanities in America’s schools. I have an Ivy League education but I know the real reason I have the job. It is because my father has been lifelong friends with the President and is one of his closest advisors.

But being this is Washington, my father has enemies. At the top of the list are Donald Rumsfeld and his acolyte Dick Cheney — notorious for their scheming, ruthlessness and ways to grab power at the expense of others, and they are eyeing up putting a knife in my father’s back.

I am walking down the hallway. There are two things in my mind. The first is career preservation. If my father is forced out by them, then my career goes down the toilet.

But the main reason is because of something I have finally admitted to myself — that they are both incredibly attractive, and I want to submit to them.

I see Rumsfeld’s hatchet face of a Secretary. She buzzes. I wait for a few minutes, hearing him laughing on the phone. Finally, he has me sent in as he peers over some files and is writing something on a notepad, not paying me any attention, giving me a terse, “How may I help you? I’m not sure I can be of any service to your program.”

I shiver.

“Well, Mr. Rumsfeld,” I say. He perks up a bit hearing the deference in my voice. “I did not come specifically to ask you that. I came today to tell you...” I gulp. “I came to tell you that I know you are coming after my father. And I want to tell you that I know you are going to push him. And that my full loyalty and allegiance is with you.”

He stops writing and looks up.

“I see,” he says, with no emotion at all. “You see, I know my way around Washington. And this is something that I find highly dubious. Some kind of trick. So, you may go, even though you are correct about your father’s fate.”

I knew he would doubt me. So I have him a file.

“Well, in advance of that, I prepared a briefing document for you. It is a lot of information you may find useful to destroy him. Not that you need my assistance.”

He opens the file, adjusts his glasses, and chuckles.

“Well, I know some of this already. But this... I will say, that this could be useful in making my job that much easier.”

He leans back and steeples his fingers.

“Of course, I still do not quite believe you yet.” He swivels his chair. “Come here now and kneel before me. Denounce your father and your entire family and beg me to accept your loyalty.”

I pace around the desk and get on my knees.

“I denounce my father and an ashamed of my family’s name. Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I beg you. Please accept my allegiance to you. I promise I will serve you in any capacity that you wish, Sir.”

He lets out a Cheshire Cat smile and laughs.

“Very good. That is a good boy.” He then stands and beads to his belt. “Now there is one more chance to show your utmost loyalty. If you do this, and do this well... I will allow you the chance to serve me, as you put it.”

His pants and shorts drop with my assistance. He sits back down kingly, and I begin to take him in my mouth. His hand quickly moves to the back of my head, the weight of his Princeton class ring evident, as he steers me at the pace and depth he wants.

“That’s it. You’re starting to prove your worth to me. I assumed you were as worthless as your old man. But I can see what you think of me. Look up at me and tell me you worship me.”

I pant and look up at his smirking face.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I worship you like the superior person you are, and have done so since the first time I heard your name, Sir.”

He nods and forced my mouth over his cock again, now gripping my hair snugly and fucking my face. I am moaning as I suck away. Finally, I can hear him gasp a bit. Moaning, and I sense what is coming. He explodes all over my face, and then laughs.

“Let me look at you. The son of my arch-enemy, dripping in my cum.”

I let him look as he smiles at his trophy. Finally, he nods to the tissues, and tells me that I may clean myself up, he will be in touch, and I may take my leave. He then heads right back to his work, paying me no mind.

I head to the door and pause.

“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. May I please say something before I leave?”

He looks up, nods, and tells me to be quick.

I walk towards his desk and am opposite it. I kneel once again, and this time cup my hands like I am praying.

“Thank you so much for letting me suck your cock, Sir. I know how lucky I am to be able to breath the same air as you, let alone to know I can pleasure you. I hope I have shown my allegiance to you, Sir.”

He looks at me with a stern and serious gaze, pausing as he does.

“You recognized your place and chose wisely to admit it. You’ll be able to rise up the ranks here so long as you remember that you are beneath me and you live to do as I order. Now you may take your leave.”

***

It is a few weeks later and he has finally been in touch. 7 pm. That night. His estate.

I arrive promptly. A maid answers the door. I head him laughing, and I am not sure who. The maid tells him that the guest has arrived.

I walk in and am paralyzed with fear. Flanking him to one side is Dick Cheney. To the other is his wife, Lynne.

“Well, there he is! The ambitious young man who will be a big help to us that I told you about.”

Their mouths drop a bit. Dick just stares at me coldly.

“Surely this is a joke,” Lynne says, hoping it is not the case. Rumsfeld tells her it is not, and then directs me to tell them both what I think about my father, especially in comparison to him, and what I wish for out of my life.

“My father is a pathetic excuse of a man and not even fit to shine your shoes, Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. The only thing I wish for out of life is to be your faithful servant.”

They both stare at me incredulously, although evil grins cross both of their faces. Rumsfeld smiles widely and orders me to tell them what I did to serve him. So I told them how I sucked his cock and was lucky to wear his cum.

“Now, boy. I want you to know something. It is very hard in DC to find people you can trust and actually respect. Dick and Lynne are the only two people alive I call friends and consider as my equals. And that means that you serve them, too. Do you understand that?”

“Yes. I understand that I also serve Mr. and Mrs. Cheney.”

“Oh, let’s see about that,” Lynne says, grinning as she leans back in her chair.

Lynne and I have crossed paths a few times in my past. I am tasked with the humanities project. She is in charge of the agency that issues our humanities grants. She does not like that I am running this program and let me know about this and has done all she can to prevent me from enacting it unless it meets her goals.

I turn to her.

“Now, I told you that you did not deserve the job you have. You probably thought it is because of your age or who your father is. But that’s not the reason why.” She pauses. “Tell me if you agree with me... but the reason why is because you are an idiot.”

I hear Rumsfeld stifle a laugh. But I have no choice, even though I hesitate.

“You’re right. I’m an idiot, Mrs. Cheney.”

She laughs and nods.

“I am so glad that we cleared that up. I am sure that from now on, you will do as I say. I will tell you the programs I support and how much I want them supported financially. You are going to meet with me once a week with a draft of succinct reasons why you now support exactly as I want, which you will then defend to the president. Of course, I know you lack the intellectual capabilities to perform something like that up to my standards, so you can expect me to red mark your work with a pen like a kindergarten teacher.” She smirks. “And I am sure your father will be in the room, too.”

“Now, there is more than just that. One thing I want you to do — anytime you enter my office, you will show me proper respect by kissing my feet. Why don’t you do that now?”

I steel myself, press my lips to her shoes, and then thank her as she laughs as loud as she ever has in her life. She tells me to stand up and then ask her husband what he thinks.

He just smiles at me. Before I can even say anything, he starts to speak.

“I am so glad that you have recognized this about yourself. It is not easy to admit you are inferior. But I have always seen a lot of potential in you.”

He continues to smile.

“It won’t be too long until your father is back home in Wisconsin where he will be buried. Once that happens, and I inherit his job, I am going to have a need for a chief aide. Usually, this job is in an advisory capacity. But for your role, I envision it more fit for your capabilities. Having me coffee ready. Shining my shoes before any important meetings. Not saying anything beyond ‘Yes, Sir,’ and ‘No, Sir,’ unless I tell you to speak beyond that. Any sort of errand or task me or Lynne or Don want, it gets done. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, your peers and people who have worked for your father for a very long time are going to see you hold my coat or wipe off my desk for me. What do you think they will say about this?”

“They’ll mock me, Sir.”

“They will. But deep down inside, they are going to be jealous because each and every single last one of them wants to be in the position you find yourself in — dominated by your superiors.” I can see Rumsfeld not in agreement. “Now, you will also perform the same tasks that Don had you do... only I will not be so gentle. And I will also make sure Don keeps you on his calendar as well so you can continue to serve him as well, being that he made you his toy before sharing you.”

“And don’t worry. I will still find the time and ways for you to correct your work so you can try to come up to even half of our level.”

I meekly say “Thank you.”

Rumsfeld stands up, as does Lynne. He slaps me on the back,

“Just think that your epitaph is going to read about how you were the faithful servant to the most powerful three people who ever lived.” He and Lynne head to the door. “Now get on your knees before Dick.”

I do, and he chuckles and heads to his belt.

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

[psalloacappella]

Red (oneshot)

Title: Red  Pairing: SasuSaku legit i don’t write anything else  Word Count: 3400~ Rating: E, for like explicit, not for everyone. NSFW. Ya get it. Tags/What you’ll see: Sakura getting the office and oral she deserves 

Summary: An old dress, a new office — Uchiha Sasuke offers regards to both.

Ao3 | FFN |  ↓

(I have to preface when I post this that my top-tier amazing friend convinced me to do so and reminded me not to delete it this morning in the cold sober dawn lol. I consider this absolutely self-indulgent)

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“Ah, Sakura?”

Jade eyes alight and ringed with red, her subordinate regrets interrupting what seems to be a bout of sickness or sadness; she’s been busy lately. They all are.

Spine bent in bass clef camber, in exhaustion, she straightens at his words into a ramrod illustration of diligence. Over scrolls and haphazard paperwork, empty mugs sitting in their own fossilized dregs, she snatches up a fountain pen to preserve her dignity and reputation. At her age she’s been handed enormous tasks that she only imagined in her wildest dreams, and most of those, in the past, were of love and marriage and not the nightmares and duties which replaced them.

Extreme stress manifests in mysterious and chaotic ways; she intuitively knows this, especially today, as she basks in the quiet glances, the way their eyes follow her long, long legs leading into ankles in heels that feel like cages. Her choice of a dress underneath her white coat today feels like a wanton beacon, but her battle reputation precedes her, legendary and terrifying; no one will dare blithely approach legs like those or earn the ire of her dangerous hands, so delicate until they’re crushing mountains and throats.

Electricity, a buzzing in the marrow of her bones; she taps the pen on the desk in a stilted rhythm.

She regards the young medic with a hazy gaze for a moment, then waves a hand. “Sorry, I’m just—”

He steps over the threshold; Sakura raises her chin, lips taut.

“No no, I’m sorry,” he insists. Under her bright eyes he feels the beginnings of idiocy and bumbling; his boss makes him tongue-tied, stupid. Younger than him, in a league of her own as she stands at shoulders with new legends; lethal, inured to all the stories about herself.  

He notices the ochre on her lips like an invitation.

“I wouldn’t come too close today,” she says. Grants him a demure smile, the type that doesn’t quite fool her friends but still works with fools like him. “I’m not feeling the best. It could be contagious, and that wouldn’t be helpful to our operations right now.”

“Yes, of course.” Agreeing, nodding fervently with the obedience of a particularly compliant breed of dog. “If I may — you work so much. Too young to be feeling so tired.”

A laugh, it bubbles — starts from her chest as a giggle and drips from her lips as honey. Makes her quake, mottled red seeping through the skin of her chest as a sieve, collarbones sharp.

She looks feverish; she looks like a dream.

In turn she struggles to keep the waver out of her voice, knowing she’s lit up as fulgent as rouge festival lanterns and there's no way to kill the current.

I’ll never live this down — have to get him out of here

The cough she musters up is weak and if this was Ino, or gods forbid, her teacher, they’d call it pathetic. For a young man trapped in her sphere of admiring attraction, it does nothing but induce sympathy. But her legs are shaking, the situation is dire, and she’s loath to have another round of torrid rumor on the flapping lips of civilians and staff.

“Ah!”

At her cry, she lets her temple fall into her hand and her subordinate rushes forward. Gasping, she raises her other one, trembling.

“No, please. That sounded worse than it was. Just a headache coming on. In fact,” she rasps, “if you can let Shizune know I’ll be taking the next hour to recoup? A nap, maybe that’ll help.”

“I don’t know if I can leave you like this.” His tentative step earns her sharp gaze again, pursed lips that start his mind wandering in a way that makes him blush. Physically shaking his head to clear it, he nods slowly, finally, backing out of the doorway.

The hollow sound of Sakura’s kneecap hitting the underside of the desk rings in the space. Her gullible underling starts forward again, but the foreboding slap of her hand on the desk stops him cold. Acute, like it’s one to the face.

Sakura brings her knees together, swift, crushing his damn near regal bone structure and the handsome high bridge of his nose between the muscle of her thighs. A warning.

She glances down at him, he’s slicked with sweat — the glimpse of his glittering black eye and swirling purple one bring her too close to a wave she can’t indulge; she’s still this unwanted visitor’s boss until he closes the fucking door.

“Just me being clumsy! Do as I’ve asked and let her know, and,” here her breath hitches, hand leaving the desk, fingers burying themselves in dark messy hair, “th-thank you for worrying. I appreciate it.”

She’ll pay for the smile she gives this man, a sparkle of hope, like he’ll ever earn his boss’s favor in that way, as if he’ll measure up in any lifetime to the man that has her heart, the man on his knees under her desk.

“Sure. I mean,” horrified at his own too-familiar tone, “of course, right away, ma’am. Miss. I—”

“Oh go now. ” It stutters out in jete musical meter, resembling pain — or other things. “Please.”

She doesn’t have to tell him to close the door, though she’s surprised he didn’t find another excuse to stay with her. Oh, he has it bad. But there’s no time to think —

Sinking into her chair, her hands grip the armrests with an intensity that forces music from them, cracking underneath her fingers. And now all the words of the last few minutes tumble from her lips, an unintelligible medley of curses and pleas cradling the half-formed shell of his name.

Without warning, she yanks him back by the hair and almost comes right there:  His eyes scalding her, the mess on his stupid and incredibly fuckable face, a talented and dangerous mouth settling into a smirk as he thumbs an errant bit of her off his lip.

“That was close. Ah, so are you.”

He says it with such smugness and vanity. Quivering in her office chair under nothing but his stare, still in the grips of the unrelenting buzz and hum he’s enticed, and he absolutely notices.

“One of these days, we’ll be caught!” Tries to sound stern even as he rolls his neck and shoulders with a pithy nonchalance. “Stop that. So arrogant, preening like that—”

“Me? That’s rich.” He lazily trails a finger from her swollen, hot clit to her opening, lingering and lush to force all the heat and sounds he’s craving — her fingernails dig into her thigh while the pallor of her skin and dress seep and marry, reflections of one another. “Why did you wear this, Sakura?” Nudges the fabric with his nose, and she mumbles something hazy under his resumed touch; lost in orbit, in a void, in a place unearthly.

He starts the routine again, pressing his mouth to the inside of her thigh. Frowns at the irritating strip of fabric that constitutes clothing; it’s been twisted and pushed aside anyway. Her skin burning against his face, a lean cord of muscle taut underneath her pale skin. Vaguely threatening, but she’s yet to crush him to death and he’s on the second round of bringing her there and back again, and close calls such as those seem to stoke something smoldering. Some days, it feels like the only thing worth pulling himself out of bed for.

He fucks like he fights:  Relentless, consuming. But that essential difference for the former is he never gives an inch; here, he pours it all in, something like an endless apology. Maybe she knows and that’s why she wears the red dress he won’t admit he prefers and paints her lips and runs the entirety of this village hospital system with grace and her own brand of gentle ascendancy — why he’s desperate for just the ragged edge of danger.

One of her legs shudders, the frenzied tap-tap-tap of her heel stammering against the floor in a cadence fit for instruments. “Sasuke-kun.”

Between the presses of his lips leading a hot, agonizing march back to her core, an arrogant noise in his throat escapes, rich and amused. “So this — is your new office?”

“Mmm,” she confirms, still clinging to the chair. The only support she has; the room’s spinning and every cell is vibrating, pink eyebrows knitted as she fights to remain upright and solid and somewhat human because the door’s not locked and she knows he knows, knows he doesn’t care and frankly neither, really, does she. Melting like basalt in unending, stifling heat.

Calloused fingers walk up the soft skin of her calf, catching and searing, sundering the delicate layer where they brush to release the pent-up steam underneath.

He’s fire; she is earth.

Always, all of him ablaze —  possessive in its own discipline but a thing begging for taming. He builds the pyre here, as he has been for the last hour or so, to focus himself, patiently coaxing it into something chaotic but fruitful. Lately all he’s felt is the joyless, sober embodiment of a tool to be used though perhaps this is the same, a compulsion by any other name.

But it can’t be, not with her looking like this. Striding down her hallways with purpose while bending the horrors and ills of the world to her indomitable will. Certainly this dress is no accident, as it never is, not with him coming off a mission full of blood and necessary evil.

Dragging the thin, sorry excuse for fabric down the burning skin of her leg, Sasuke’s tongue finds her clit with terrifying precision and rips a moan from her throat, pulling a jerk of her hips against his mouth. The shockwave shared, vibrating as wires intertwined, a forcible current.

Leans back, takes her in:  Her trembling, knuckles white from the fatal grip on the arms of the chair, knees sinking inward toward one another. The sight of this rich red dress against the stark, starched white of her coat blending with the mottled pinks and crimsons painting her cheeks and chest. Unraveling before him, extraordinary, even while this space belongs to her.

This, sometimes, feels like undeserved forgiveness.

Because she is always, always in living color.

Adjusts his own knees, shifts, a catch of air in his throat as he accommodates the hard length of his own caged cock. They’re no stranger to claiming desks and other surfaces as their own, but she has strings on him and there's authority in here now, where she holds men at the door with a flicker of her gentle jade eyes borne of the grueling process which created her.

Sliding the useless fabric into his pocket, raises his chin to her. Stares as she bites her lip and struggles for composure, though it’s difficult under the gaze of a man like this.

He waits, and the only sounds are ragged breathing from both.

“Please,” she whispers. Quivering, even at the ask. “Before someone comes back.”

“You worry so much,” he says. “Relax.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What did I tell you,” he hisses, “about apologies?”

She blinks, startled, and her lips part. A sparkle, a brilliance emerging in her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her fingers. Still, they shake a bit, the anticipation and remnants of the rise and current before still lingering, lying in wait. Predatory. A wetness floods to her lips and she swallows it down, leveling her eyes to his glittering, savage gaze.

With a deep inhale, she spreads herself before him, knees apart. Blushing invisible, lost in the red that’s already dappled every inch of her, she exhales the rest of her timidity with an edged, sharp expression and hopes she’s being clear—

Sakura just barely glimpses the fierce red in his gaze before he answers with his tongue, deft, ardent, and divine.

Breaking the chair arms beneath her delicate hands again, scrabbling to stay on the beautiful planet before it turns her loose. Sinking, again, the boundaries of atoms dissolving — they are nowhere but bliss.

Like before, the careful building of a fire, the agonizing escalation:  He drops a kiss here, employs a firm tongue there, skirting the easy option in favor of the tease as he peels her back, layer by layer. Running it the length of her slit, heart skipping a bit at the dangerous quake of her thigh muscle; how long it's taken to differentiate between pleasure and impending crush. Again, the sensation of crawling into the den of something prized and feral. He feels it, her writhing and the pace and canter of her breathing and she’s liquid gold, fucking melting —

Her hips jerk, hard, when his tongue swirls around her clit, the cry coming from her jagged as broken glass and trembling like music, all things that make his own situation difficult to manage but he will, because these sounds entrench him firmly in reality. Alive. Knees screaming on the hardwood floor, unyielding as his cock cradled only by fabric and not as he wishes, by her hands or her red, red lips like the kind she’s wearing now.

Instead he slows her down again, pendulum swings between teasing and a furious rhythm that coaxes the full spectrum of human sounds from her beautiful throat. Rewarded for it with a whiny gasp as if breaking the surface of water, mingling with his own as he catches his breath. The end of it careens into words, something rough, he’s not even quite sure what he’s saying but he imagines, neither does she.

This—fucking dress—!

Nice, isn’t it?

Gets you attention

But only from you, S-Sasuke-kun

And her hand lands on his head again, thin fingers yanking his hair and guiding him as he splays her open, lays her bare. His name never quite fully leaves her lips, dancing with fragments of alternating pleas and curses. Just for that, for something he’d never thought he’d ever hear in his life, he grimly knows he’d write a fucking sonnet just to hear her like this — and with his tongue, he does, or at least approximates. The tremors of her shift deeper now, approaching release; she’s so slick it feels vile, indulgence in sin. All of which is smeared on his lips, his face, tasting of tang and salt; how many times has he been told he’s selfish? Guilty. Greedy, too, as he pauses to breathe—

looking up at her, he has an idea but can’t possibly know the extent of this, how she’s absolutely wrung out and beyond this dimension, hell, this galaxy, every inch of her humming in tune with the universe and brimming with absolute, inescapable heat, muscles taut and and begging for climax. Though the soft edges of her green eyes that see through him and everything else, rolling back, mouth open and lips parted in mimeo of an oracle, sunken in the weight of divinity, might give him some clue.

Don’t stop, please—!

— he’s there, with his fingers buried and soaked and deep, playing that just-right rhythm with a thumb on her clit that’s been worked to the edge and back again over the span of her busy afternoon. Hairs part from his scalp without remorse; her nails scrabbling and fingers clinging as she prays and sighs and curses occasionally, quietly, into the limp back of her hand. As if she’s really still trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism in the throes of being launched into orbit.

So very close. He knows by the slightly erratic rhythm, the pulsating of muscles inside and out and around him, tight and he steals a quick breath to endure and ease his fingers out to redouble effort with his mouth because the way she’s sounding, that sharp icy note on the ragged edge of pleasure and pain, tends to be the signal, the tipping point. The tremor her free hand sends through the bones of the chair. Knees apart as far as she can manage and desperately meeting him at the hilt —

Steady through until the end.

Release comes as glass shattering, atoms splitting. Unintelligible words trapped in amber, in a moment, in desire. With a mouth full of fire, he rides it with her through every wave, persisting through her slow and ebbing tumble back down to earth. To him.

He leans back at last, groaning at the pain in his knees. Watches her tremble and twitch, wringing out the very last dregs of her orgasm, displacing everything coherent left in her head.

Seconds stretch into minutes, and he gets to his feet as she languishes in a pool of pleasure, steeping as scalding tea.

At some point her hand rises to her own lips, limp and wavering, to clean her own unabashed drippings with an expression of dizzy surprise. The white dissipates from her vision and she finds his eyes on her again, one still richly red in its sole mission of memorizing the glowing after.

“Oh.” That’s all she says, breathless.

Sasuke brings fingers across his own mouth, rolls his jaw side to side, and something about his expression of smug satisfaction resonates, strings of a plucked instrument, a pull again of desire that threatens to ruin the sanctity of this brand new office and the role that comes with it.

For a moment she leverages the chair to rise, then loses strength — she lowers herself back in it, arms still quaking.

She reaches for him, plucking at his shirt. Hair flyaway, askew from her frenzied fingers, still in his mission gear.

Yanking him down by the collar, she crashes her mouth against his, red and hot, the tang and taste of herself immiscible with his own. Whatever sound he makes, this growl or rumble or ache, splits them open.

What pulls them apart is the grating sound of their former sensei’s voice:  “I heard from a bird that someone in here was sick?”

Sasuke feels them in the room now and pulls away. Half-turns, finds himself leaning on her desk in a way that’s almost too casual, but necessary — his knees are shot through. Sakura smiles too widely, masking a secret; after all, both still feel the pinpricks of liquids drying in the new air.

“From your darling subordinate,” Kakashi twinkles, grinning underneath his mask.

“That one who follows you around like a puppy,” Naruto supplies, pouting.

Kakashi tilts his head toward him, both still lingering over the threshold. “Terrible, hm?”

Naruto misses the jibe and instead turns his wide ocean eyes on her new space. Whistles. “Man, Sakura-chan, this office is niiice. I’m jealous.”

“You’ll be in your new one soon enough,” she says, and there she is, her usual self. “I have faith. Anyway, this office comes with responsibility.”

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“He was under the impression you were sick. Looking at you now, though,” and here Kakashi pauses in a manner all too deliberate, eyes sweeping over Sasuke’s cloak and belongings in a chair, and ends it with looking right at him, “you seem all right. Exhausted, I imagine.”

Her flush threatens to undo them both.

“He’s . . . sweet. To care.”

“He’s a fool,” Sasuke mutters.

“Perfect, you’re dressed nice,” Naruto crows. “How did you know we’d come make you celebrate? You didn’t eat, I bet you didn’t!” He eyes Sasuke up and down, at his unusually ruffled appearance, and clicks his tongue. “You didn’t even go home first, did you? Shitty boyfriend.”

The damage he committed on his recent mission pales in comparison to the crimes Sasuke wants to indulge now.

“Anyway, we’ll wait out here. After all,” Kakashi says, inclining his head, “this is your space now.”

Sakura exhales long and slow as they step out into the hallway. Covering her face with her hands, she groans. “No matter my job, I’ll never escape embarrassment, huh?”

Standing at last, she readjusts her clothes and kisses the underside of Sasuke’s chin. She reaches for his pocket and he moves easily out of her grasp.

“Sasuke-kun!”

“Pointless now. I’ll keep it.”

No matter what time, season, dimension, he regards all of her — the dress, the lips that held their color, the new flush simmering on her neck and chest — and craves, endeavors, to always love her red.

[rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip]

what have I created?

idk if yall like this, but they just exist not i guess :/

ok the the first one is Royalty AU

first things first, when I say Royalty AU, I don't mean the classic shit we've all become accustomed to. Im talking about the good old Chinese royalty! And I want to emphasize that these guys will/should be dressed in century appropriate attire. As someone thats read a handful of 'marinette, princess of china' fics from the ML Fandom, I've noticed a common trend. Marinette wouldn't be in the culturally appropriate clothes, always ballgowns. Not that there's something wrong with it, its just most of if not all these fic are set in China, so I'd expect Chinese royalty to dress as THERE dress code calls for. And since this AU takes place far in the past like, it won't make sense for any of the characters to be in royal clothing that wasn't from there region. I'm not trying to white knight/gatekeeping. Im Guyanese not Chinese. But since JTTW and Monkie Kid take place in China, it's only right. In my opinion that it. You don't have to outright agree with me.

With out of the way, it's time for that good old AU crack

- Wukong is the king of the Flower Fruit kingdom(or a different one if you'd like, again I'm only familiar with what western culture has taught me, but I'll try my hardest) 

- he’s single but rumor has it he used to/still is dating the Vigilante/thief The Six Eared Macaque

- *chants ShadowPeach violently* 

- no one know whether it true or not

- On of his wanders around the kingdom he finds an abandoned baby in a basket. 

- and no shit sherlock it's fucking baby Xiaotian 

- I think we all know where this is going because i'm a simp for Monkey Dad & Monkie Son shenanigans

- Xiaotian becomes prince

Shit, ill be referring to Xiaotian as Mk from now on, I mentioned this before in a fic I wrote for lmk that Mk's a nickname for Xiaotian for some reason- wait i don't have to explain my self to you people!

- Sun loves his son

- MK is treated differently by staff and others because he's not blood related to the king

- no one mistreats MK per say, because there King loved his adopted son, but words are said behind his back

- Sometimes MK hears what’s said, and he feels as if he won't live up to his dad’s legacy.

- He meets Mei during a festival

- Mei is from a noble family, that wouldn't mind if they got a connection into the royal family.

- but it becomes hella clear to Mei’s family very fast that the two are just friends, and will always will be. but hey there daughter is bffs with the prince so that's a plus.       

_

- the Demon Bull Family is rules a kingdom as well, I dont/am not creative enough to think of a name I leave that to you.

- It's a common misconception that DBK is a tyrant, when he’s not. 

- most of the time...

- they have been at war with the Monkey King for some time now and settled for a peace agreement.

- that agreement being there sons to marry

- oooo original i know

- MK and Red Son are roughly the same age, Mk being 20 and RS 22

- RS is revolted/disgusted at the idea of being wed to the Monkey Kings child, even more so when he realizes MK is adopted,

- but, that all changes the second he meets MK while he meets him by accident when he gets kinda lost in the palace when he and his parents go to discuss the arrangements.

- the second he looks at MK, he's instantly in love. MK less so, he's nervous and honestly kinda bummed he's not marrying someone he loves but it's for the good of his ppl, and he'll do anything for them.

- RS isn't even aware that MK is Suns adopted son until MK walks him back to the meeting room.

"Oh There you are MK! I was about to have a servant go fetch you!" Sun Wukong says, gesturing for his boy to come sit with him.

"S-sorry for keeping you waiting I got caught up in my lessons with Mr. Tang" MK responds, sitting next to his father. Red Son looked gobsmacked. The beautiful young man he had bumped into, was the prince of this land? Damn, life truly blessed him. Or cursed him depending on how you looked at it.

- the two are left alone in a separate room for a while.

- And MK straight up tells RS why he's agreeing to this union.

"Look Red Son. I've dreamed about meeting my one true love for a while. And I would give almost anything for that dram to be real. But I wouldn't ever dare give up my people, for as there price they mean more to me. I'm doing this for them, no other reason" MK says, his back straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. The look in his eyes was a mix of sadness, but that was drowned out by loyalty and determination. It just made Red Son fall for him even harder. Clearing his throat Red spoke.

"I understand, for im doing this for the betterment of my people to. But I propose a wager"

"A wager?"

"Yes, if i can make you fall in love with me by years end, before our marriage, we can live together like in the fairy tales from far away. But if I fail, in a years time afterwards you will be permitted to find your own path in life" Red Son stated. MK took a moment to process what was happening.

"So, if you succeed in making me fall in love with you, before our marriage we can live happily ever after?" Red Son nodded in response, letting the younger continue.

"And if I shouldn't fall for you, in a years time after our union, im free to leave?" Red Son nodded once more.

"So, what do you say?"

...

"Deal"

In the end, your free to choose their fate, should Red Son win the hart of Mk? Will he fail? Or will he let him go, and let him travel the country, after all Mk's a free spirit and keeping him trapped in a big house is like keeping a cannery trapped in a cage only for its song, only for it to dul. Or will the unthinkable happen and will both boys find their freedom? together or appart? I don't know, because that's all up to you 😉

personally, I’m partial to where MK and Red Son both find freedom together. Like they straight up run away together to somewhere far away and just live out there lives together. 

this could also be genderbent thing as well. MK or Red as their respective counterparts. Again it doesn't have to be, but it’s whatever bro. im just spitting out the idea. 

Also, there is a main side plot that they fight the WBS throughout the year as well, along with other shenanigans you wanna throw in.

____

The second is a My Hero Academia/BNH/MHA AU

truth be told i'm not a big fan of MHA i think it to over hyped(this is also coming from the same person that’s a Fairy Tail fan lol), and the fandom i don't even know how to describe that mess, but I will admit not the whole of its toxic since every fandom has some toxic members, some even more so. 

I just sometimes find myself enjoying MHA AUs like the Fullmetal Alchemist, Danny Phantom, Evil!Deuk AU and several others. 

to make it clear I don't see this AU taking place the same time as the main plot of the actual Anime/Manga. This could be either like 6-10 years before or after the plot idk bro. But i’ll do this after the main story plot of MHA, so keep that in mind ya? another thing, the gang is still in China, the top hero school in the world just so happens to be in Japan, and it’s only ever mentioned by Sun wukong and other pro heros. So MK never attended AU. in short it’s only ever mention/ reference.  

_

- Mk was considered Quirkless as a kid. 

- he was just a late blumer, i swear  

- Mai’s Quirk is called Dragon. 

- it pretty much works the same way as it does in the show(duh)

- Tang’s got a knowledge Quirk, 

- my man can retain information and he’s basically an archive of information drawback being his personality lol 

- Piggsy is a Animal that gained a Quirk

- in cannon to my current knowledge, there are two other characters that can confirm animals can become sentient. the characters being Fumikage Tokoyami, & Nezu the principal at the school UA.  

- Sandy is just Conner Kent, aka he like superman but can't fly, or shoot lasers from his eyes. And blue.  

I have two scenarios for Macaque and Wukong  

*- The first one is that, Sun Wukong & Macaque are brothers. twins to be exact. 

- they where legit people, but have mutation quirks that made them too like monkeys. 

- the added powers were just a boues. 

- Sun and Mac are close growing up, like there brothers but also best friends.

- the draw back to there quirks could honestly be whatever you want bro idk, same with the others tbh. Personally I like to think Sun just has lack of motivation, and Macaque needs to draw on other people's energy.

- Sun is a hero, Monkey KIng and Mac is a villain Six Eared.

- Sun was always treated has the golden child in the family, Mac always resented that, but there shitty up bring didn’t stop the two from being good brothers to one another.

- soon tho the resentment became hatred when Sun was able to attend UA in Japan, while Mac didn't.

- Mac be angy 

- so he became a villain, and joined the Chinese branch of the LOV(league of villains)

- Sun doesn't know this till he finds out during the all out war during the main story. and by that time he’s a full on hero with is own agency(The Flower Fruit agency)    

- when the hero's ultimately win and Mac is arrested 

- This ultimately hurts Sun a lot, his brother was in jail now, arrested for his involvement and wrong doings, he knew nothing about this! this brother, his blood. A bad guy? why? he hadn't seen his brother since he left for UA, he hadn’t seen him when he came home, and started his agency. 

- this just puts Sun into a funk so he’s not as active as he used to be, and he starts thinking he might need a successor 

*- The second one is that they were two separate people that had similar quirks and both attended UA but Sun ended up in the hero corse. so 1A.

- Both Macaque and Sun have similar quirks, Sun’s is obviously more light based while Macaque’s is more shadow based(this applies to the first one as well)    

- Macaque was placed in class 1B, U.A.’s High's Heroics Department, I believe, you can correct me. 

- In cannon Class 1A and 1B both went to the training camp. I can see the teachers pinning Sun and Macaque against each other to hone their skills. 

- And because of that they become great friends    

- In fact when they graduate they both co-found there hero agency together in China and are a duo.

- But due to Monkey King’s popularity and Six Eared's association with shadows(people sometimes saying he has more of a villains quirk than a heros) the public see’s Macaque as Sun’s sidekick when thats far from the truth. 

- now it’s up to you whether you think that Wukong and Macaque would be in a relationship together, but knowing how cooked we all are, ShadowPeach is a thing here more than likely. 

- If you do or don’t support/ like the ShadowPeach aspect, the two would be living together regardless since its more cost efficient. 

- They my be heroes but living costs are expensive!   

- I would imagine there would have been a huge fight/argument between the two in privet of course, at there home.(or in there shared office if you want the extra angst of the other people they work with hearing them fight)   

- If the two are dating, then this would either lead to an out right breakup, or Macaque just up and leaving with Wukong thinking he’ll come back once he’s cooled off. But after a week, with no sign of his partner, or him answering texts or calls, not even coming into work. Wukong gets worried that something might have happened to him. so there wouldn't be a confirmation if they were still a thing or not. 

- But Wukong remains hopeful, despite the nagging at the back of his head, and gut telling him to go find Macaque, or atleast make a public statement, or even just tell another pro hero about it.   

- on the not so shippy side, Macaque and Wukong still have there argument, and much like the ShadowPeach esc side, Macaque up and leaves, and isn't seen for weeks. the only difference here is that when Wukong comes home one night to there flat, most if not all of Macaques stuff is gone. 

- where as if this was the ShadowPeach side, Macaque leaves all of his possession in the flat he and wukong share. for the simple reason being, he still loves him and wants to go back, but Macaque being Macaque can’t bring himself to do it, especially after seeing just how hurt Wukong looked when he yelled at him just before he left.  

- in other words, ANGST DIALED UP TO A 10 BABY  

- in either case, its a news report that confirms Wukong's suspicions that he desperately didn’t want to believe, and that is Macaque turning into a villain.

- much like if the two were brothers, Wukong just can’t take it and is no longer as active as he once was, and is thinking about, either A) Retirement  B) Saying, “Fuck Society, Be Gay Do Crime” and join Macaque as a villain himself, or C) find a successor, and a way to bring Macaque back to there side, but most importantly, back to him.    

- also extra points if you're after people's hearts and want to make them suffer;  - If there dating, Wukong curle’s up in the bed he and Macaque shared, holding/wearing something of great value to Macaque and just crying himself to sleep, where as Macaque is getting wasted on alcohol, as he stumbles out of the bar he’s in, he either see’s something that reminds him of Wukong or while he’s trying to put his wallet back into his pocket, a photo of them on their first date fall’s out. and Macaque just cries in a nearby alley way. And it’s there where he gets indoctrinated into the League.

       - If there just friends, macaque heads to the nearest forest and just levels it, where as Wukong just gets engrossed into his work, trying not to think about it. you could add you own spin on this, again i'm just spitballing.             

- NOW BACK TO MK! :D     

- Obviously MK is a huge Monkey King fan     

- at Twenty MK has come to terms he's quirkless (HE’S NOT)

-for ANGST reasons MKs fokes kicked him out at this realization at 13.

- he works at Piggsy's Noodle shop, and has been since he was 14.

- don't need a quirk to drive or cook!

- the boy lives a content life with his new family, till DBK happens :D

- DBK runs a Mafia(in conjunction with TLOV) and has been in jail for like 5 years thanks to Monkey King, PIF and RS brake him out one night when MK's out making a late night delivery since Piggsy had the bright idea to go 24/7 service!

- one thing leads to another and Mk somehow manifest what looks like the Monkey King's staff, but its not, it’s MKs powers, it just so happens to be the same power the Monkey King has. And it practically goes down the same way in the pilot. 

- but unlike the pilot Mk and Mei go straight to the FF Agency, after making a panicked call to Pigsy and Tang.

- one way or another Mk are lead into Wukongs office. Mei being forced to stay in the lobby.

- they have there convo, butterfly monkey squishing included.

- "And so, I want you do be my success-" BOOM 💥

- from there they rush downstairs and see that the lobby has been infiltrated by the DB fam, and you know fight.

- once the DB family seems like there down, PIF wisks them away. Much to Monkey King’s displeasure.

From there stuff kind plays out like cannon, the calabash ep is just a conjoint quirk the Demon bros have. As for EP9, ill have to script that one out myself lol. I'll get onto it as soon as my will to commit stabs me in the face. Till then have a dancing Kermit the frog.

Now if you'll excuse me, am about to Kermit a felony :D

(For legal reasons thats a joke)

Psst @writingamongther0ses its done

[missnight0wl]

Who do you think is the mole?

Merula is the mole

And I’m not saying that because everything bad has to be Merula. It truly makes the most sense, and as soon as I realised it, I was like: “Well, duh! Obviously!”. I’ll try to explain everything the best I can, but first, I want to address some basic things about the mole, proving that Alanza is probably NOT our culprit (as I believe she’s one of the most common suspects in fandom). I already talked about it a little in other posts, but I want to organise everything and maybe add something.

To begin with, there’s a lot of evidence that R is watching MC ever since they came to Hogwarts or at least Y2. There was someone contacting/controlling Ben when the cursed ice appeared. In Y3, we even got a warning Letter From No One:

In Y4, someone was controlling Ben again. In Y5, MC AND Ben were attacked by someone, and it’s still unknown whether or not they were under Imperius too. Someone unleashed a Dementor on Hogwarts, and R knew that MC defeated it as soon as it happened. Someone, who’s description fit a Red Cloak, moved the portrait which trapped Beatrice later.

And of course, each vault every year was allegedly tampered by someone, causing the new curse to occur. In Y5, someone made Rowan draw their wand on us, and while it was implied that it was Pettigrew, it was never confirmed. Either way, R had never problems to take actions at Hogwarts. Moreover, they seem to be well aware of our every move. MC also sometimes talks during classes that they feel like being watched. So, if R was successfully pulling strings all those years, even without Rakepick, why would they bother now to bring Alanza to the castle? Especially that there was a huge gap when Rakepick was already gone, but Alanza was still not there! It could’ve been as long as six months, judging by Ben’s comment before Rowan’s death that they’re well into the sixth year. And quite a lot happened in that time! For example, we found the letter from R to Jacob. There’s no way it was left by accident, and while it’s possible it was placed by Jacob himself, it doesn’t change the fact that R didn’t need Alanza for that. So, again, why would they need her exactly?

Admittedly, the way they talked about it in the recent chapter:

… does make it sound as if the mole is someone SENT by R. However, I believe it’s just unfortunate wording because in that case, it could be only Alanza (and as I said, it just doesn’t really make sense). Like, none of our friends was “planted” by R. Even if they were recruited before coming to Hogwarts, they were simply kids in school-age anyway. It could be about a teacher or something, but they’re all the books canon characters. Unless it’s about the new DADA professor we haven’t even seen yet, but I doubt it.

Now, I think we can all agree that the mole is most likely another student. Sure, an adult would have more influence among the staff, maybe access to more places, but they also wouldn’t get as close to MC, and I assume that’s the point – to know what MC’s doing. Although, when I’m looking at the examples I listed above, I have to say that it’s possible that there is somebody else involved (other than the mole), but still, one of our peers would be the best as the source of information. So, without further ado, let’s explain how Merula fits into that puzzle.

YEAR 1

From the very beginning, Merula talked badly about Jacob because of his obsession with the Cursed Vaults. But then, something’s changed after our first duel, and even MC pointed out how odd it was.

I wouldn’t be surprised if R reached Merula at some point before that conversation and convinced her that the Cursed Vaults are real and very much worth it to search for them. Alternatively, Merula knew about it already when she came to Hogwarts, and then it’s connected to the Devil’s Snare accident. This idea is based on my other theory that Jacob made a deal with R that he’d join them IF they wouldn’t hurt MC. The deal was valid for the first two years; however, if R used Merula to hurt/kill MC, their hands would technically be clean.

YEAR 2

I wrote about it in the past during my replay, but there’s quite a lot of material so I’ll just leave a link here. It’s very important for this theory, though, so please, go and read it to fully understand my thought process.

YEAR 3

This is the year when we found Jacob’s room. And if you claim that Merula can’t lie or hide important information: she can. She didn’t tell us about Jacob’s room for at least a year, and she probably wouldn’t tell at all if we didn’t find our brother’s notebook. Also, there’s a possibility that she took something from there:

Was she lying, though? What could she take? What did she do with it?

Later the same year, Merula was following us to the Library AGAIN (the Vault of Fear), as she was ALSO following us back in Y1. When you think about it, Merula follows MC quite a lot, also in later years… Eavesdropping on MC and Talbott, learning that we’re an Animagus (in the “Animagus Adventure SQ”, so separately from Talbott’s situation), sending Ismelda to eavesdrop on us when MC wanted to leave Hogwarts in Y6, following us when we practised Protego with Jacob… She also knows that she can manipulate MC emotionally. The Frog Choir TLSQ anyone? Even if she wasn’t lying then about her mother, she still had no problems to use her suffering to influence MC and get what she wanted.

YEAR 4

Well, as I mentioned in the post linked in YEAR 2, this is the year when Merula was openly working with Rakepick. If you want to believe that Rakepick is evil and was always a member of R, that’s pretty much it. Perhaps Merula wasn’t aware of that, but still.

Although, what I believe is that Rakepick wasn’t a member of R, but she knew they’re using Merula. Therefore, Patricia “took care” of her for two reasons: 1) so Merula stopped being a pain in the ass for MC, 2) so she could control R’s influence on Merula.

YEAR 5

Here’s where things got a bit complicated because of the events in the Portrait Vault, and a lot depends on what’s really going on with Rakepick. Still, here are some possible explanations:

If Rakepick is evil and Merula was really tortured: Rakepick used Crucio on Merula even though she’s their mole as a punishment for getting too attached to MC. I personally don’t feel close to Merula at all because Jam City fucked up her writing, and so I have no reasons whatsoever to like her. However, they basically skipped to MC and Merula being friends whether you like it or not, so here you are. And Merula was supposed to get close to MC but not like them.

If Rakepick is evil, but the torture was staged: R needed MC to suffer, but they didn’t want to actually hurt their mole.

If Rakepick is not evil: The torture was staged, but Rakepick told R that Merula should be punished for getting attached to MC (so R THOUGHT that Merula was really tortured but she wasn’t) OR they agreed to that, so they’ll make MC suffer without hurting their mole.

YEAR 6

Again, because it depends so much on what’s really happened in the Portrait Vault, it’s even more complicated than Y5, so… I’ll try to explain what I personally believe is going on.

Rakepick staged the torture scene with Merula, and no matter if R thinks it was real or not, she also instructed Merula to keep R believing that she’s their mole. Merula is still delivering R information, but perhaps it’s possibly limited or maybe she even lies about some things to them. I’m not sure what to do with Rowan’s death here (or “death”), but I don’t think Merula was expecting that. I imagine that she thinks that Rakepick screwed everyone over and plays on her own entirely. If that’s the case, she might want to continue to be R’s mole if she believes that it’ll help her expose Rakepick eventually. I mean, if she just told R: “Hey, she doesn’t really work for you”, Rakepick would probably weasel out of it somehow.

Merula being the mole also goes along with Jacob telling us about the assassin being after MC and Merula (Y6Ch6):

He apparently talked about the Wizard in White then, but now we know that he actually isn’t an assassin. So… how did Jacob make that mistake? I mean, if the Wizard in White wanted to take MC to R so they’d join them, they HAD TO have a similar approach towards Jacob. In fact, they wrote to Jacob about joining them after Duncan’s death. Why Jacob thought that they’d try to kill MC now?

Well, it’s simple: it’s not real Jacob and he works for R. Why R wanted MC to think that there’s an assassin after them, though? Well, it’s based on my old theory, but… I don’t buy that the Wizard in White is a member of R. I believe that he was supposed to help MC somehow. R wanted MC to know that there’s an assassin so they’d be distrustful towards new people (including the Wizard in White). What about Merula then? I see two explanations which could coexist: 1) R wanted to scare Merula so she wouldn’t reveal to MC that she’s the mole (when she heard about an assassin being after her, she could’ve connected the dots), 2) Merula is more impulsive than MC, so if she was expecting an assassin, she’d attack him with the intention to hurt or kill, getting rid of the Wizard in White and R’s problem.

(I know that the part about the assassin doesn’t work in the light of the recent chapter, but I’m still trying to figure it out, and I might write a separate post on how the Wizard in White is not a member of R.)

Also, not that it’s super solid evidence, but Merula was the one who suggested that the mole might be among the teachers:

Yeah, there’s some logic in that, but as I said at the beginning, I think we can all agree that it’s way more likely that the mole is a student. I’m not saying that Merula is trying to buy some time before she’s discovered, buuut…

Anyway, I’m almost certain that Merula is the mole. I even hope for that because it could be a very interesting plot: Merula who started from despising MC and wanting to harm them, starting to appreciate the value of friendship and questioning her actions. Of course, it’d be even more interesting if Jam City put any effort in her redemption arc, but oh well. It’s also kind of brilliant that Merula created that rivalry with MC when it comes to the Cursed Vaults, and she did it so well that we don’t even question WHY this rivalry exists. That maybe it’s just an excuse to gain information and pass it on. I mean, look at our conversation in “Flying Solo” TLSQ”:

Merula is so casual about it that MC is not even particularly concerned about her getting information on the Cursed Vaults. You know, they say the darkest place is under the candle...

[imcryingbuckets]

My Whole Heart "Hates" You

I did it. Ha, yes, I wrote a Bill Hader x OFC fanfiction. Although I write a lot in my spare time, I've never written a fic before so pls be nice :(

It's sorta enemies to lovers, I know y'all love that shit, so I hope everyone likes it. Or at least one person. It's going to be multiple chapters, but I've only written the first one so far!

TW: Swearing, a lot of it (I'm British, sue me), no sexual content in this chapter, but if there is any in future chapters I will be sure to notify you (warnings are already tagged on ao3 just in case I forget to add them later on)

Summary: Violet works at Studio 8H, for Saturday Night Live! But one Monday morning she turns up to work to find out that Bill Hader is hosting. They have a past of getting under each other's skin and constantly getting into arguments and spats all over the office, but will that change when he returns to host this time? Will they put aside their differences? Do they really hate each other or are they just bad at flirting? I'm sure you know the answer to all these questions, but how 'bout you read this anyways! I suck at summaries

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31072760/chapters/76766612

Chapter One: Oh, boy.

I walk into Studio 8H clutching a hot cup of coffee in my hand, in attempt to bring myself some warmth during the surprisingly cold breeze of March. Arriving at the building only a few minutes late (better than usual), I quickly set my things down at my desk and walk over to Lorne’s office with my co-workers to find out the host line-up for the next month. We all file in and find seats, some of us sitting cross-legged on the floor, and we collectively gaze upon the corkboard as Lorne fills us all in. My stomach twists into knots as I read the first blue postcard pinned up, blinking twice to make sure I’m not seeing things. I rub my eyes because maybe I saw it wrong, maybe he isn’t hosting, maybe I just have something in my eye. But when I look back up I know I’m wrong because everybody’s eyes are on me, staring closely with hesitance to watch how I’ll react. Right above the yellow card that read ‘Arcade Fire’ was a blue one, reading

BILL HADER

My mind begins to play out a thousand different scenarios and outcomes on what could happen this week, now that Hader would be here. I start getting a light headache (quite the ordinary when it came to working here) and I notice that everyone is still staring at me, some in remorse, and some in fear of how I’m going to react. I decide pretty quickly that I should say something to settle everyone’s nerves.

“Guys, seriously, chill the fuck out.” Perhaps a little harsher than I intended so I backpedal a bit. “I know what you’re all thinking, but stop, okay? It’s not like I’m gonna go batshit crazy when I see him and punch him in the face or something. I intend to keep my job, thank you very much.”

The faces all around the room seem to relax at this and return their attention back to Lorne. Thankfully, no one heard me add ‘As much as he is an absolute cockwomble’. Well, Kate might have as she started giggling on the floor next to me.#

Kate knows of my small hatred towards the man everyone on Earth seems to praise (Hatred is a strong word, annoyance is probably better suited for my feelings towards him but I genuinely just enjoy how the word rolls off the tongue). 4 years ago when Bill hosted SNL back in 2014, Kate was the one that put up with all my complaints and remarks about him, and she was often the one I went to when I needed to vent about anything really, middle-aged-comedian-themed or not. I feel a little guilty seeing as she will probably have to reprise her role as the one who deals with my Hader ‘hatred’ when she actually quite likes the man and has friendly chats and jokes with him whenever he’s around. Normally when I tell people this, they think that the fact that they’re both friends would annoy me. But I actually couldn’t give the smallest of fucks (pardon my French). I think it’s great that everyone gets on with him, good for them! But we never seemed to be able to do that.

See despite our efforts to be professional, we kept getting in small bickering matches across the office the last time he hosted. It was never full on screaming, just very heavily charged snide comments and evil glares to one another.

Back home in the UK, my friends and I would often joke around playfully and poke fun at each other, but it was all light-hearted and we all knew that. Even some of my friends here at work do the same. But when Bill was here, everyone that was unfortunately present to witness our spats and quarrels all knew that it didn’t come from a place of love or admiration as it did with anyone else. No, it came from this annoyance in our guts that we got from each other. It certainly made the entire office largely tense for the whole week leading up to the Saturday, and thankfully he skipped the after party so the terror ended after the last sketch of the night.

I feel bad knowing that we’ll probably put the entire building through the same torment as we did 4 years ago, but I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for Bill. No sir. Every nasty remark I threw at him I meant with 100% intention, and I feel no urge to take any of them back when I see him this afternoon when he walks into the office. Not because I’m some cold-hearted bitch, but because he said some things that were equally as bad as mine. So suck on that, William.

Quicker than expected, the meeting ends. I get up eagerly off the floor, with the intention to get to my office as quickly as possible with hopes to not run into Bill. However, before I get the chance to leave, I hear Lorne call after me to ask me to stay behind.

“I need to talk to you about this week’s host.”

I see Kate give me a small smile that said ‘good luck’ as she left through the door with the others and a wave of her hand. I turn back to the man behind the desk, not knowing what to expect, apart from the fact that it’s probably about Bill. Obviously.

“I’m assuming you’ve seen who the host is for Saturday?” he says.

I give him a small nod with a tight small and a mutter that resembled something close to a ‘yes’.

“Well I know that the last time he hosted, you two didn’t get along very well and had some…”

I watched him for a few seconds as he tried to find the right word.

“…differences.” He decides. “But I don’t want that same thing to happen again, it’s been 4 years now so I’m hoping that you’ve both matured at least a little.”

“Yes well he is like 40 now.” I respond, a little uncomfortable as I feel like a three-year-old getting scolded by their teacher for flicking crayons at the other kid’s head.

“Yes, well… I hope that you both can learn to get along, or at least push your differences aside for one week?”

I nod, “Yes, yes, ‘course.” Wanting the conversation to end before Bill arrives.

“Good to hear, Violet. Although, if I hear any screaming between the two of you, I won’t hesitate to step in and organise something to put an end to it. Understood?”

For a moment I thought he was suggesting firing me, but I caught the slight smirk on his face that told me something different. He was planning something mischievous, but I couldn’t place what. Nor did I care enough to look for it.

I sigh in relief and nod my head for what felt like the hundredth time that day, starting to feel a bit like a bobble-head doll. “Yes, Lorne, I understand. No bickering, got it.”

He smiled with a look that suggested he got the answer he wanted, and waved his hand to say I could go. I gave him a goodbye and made my out of his office and started to speed-walk to my own, crossing my fingers that Hader hadn’t arrived yet.

I thank the mighty beings in the sky that I made it to my desk without seeing him, and shut the door with a click. My eyes fall upon the coffee that I left earlier that morning in the rush to get to the meeting and I frown as I realise that it’s probably gone cold and all icky. I grasp the paper cup and I’m surprised to be met with warmth, I guess the meeting wasn’t as long as I thought it had been. Content with this happy discovery, I sit down in front of my computer and open a script document from the other night, sipping at my lukewarm coffee. I begin to rapidly type away and fall into the rhythm of writing, before I am frustratingly interrupted with a knock at my door.

I pull away from the screen and yell “Come in!” to whoever is on the other side of the door, standing up from my desk to throw my now-empty paper coffee cup in the bin (or trash as these Americans I work with call it). The door opens to reveal Aidy peeking her head hesitantly through to look at me with almost sorry eyes.

“Pitch meeting in Lorne’s office. Got to discuss sketch ideas with…the host.” She smiles kindly at me knowing that I don’t want to go and see him.

“With Bill you mean?” I say knowingly, to which she just nods her head. “Okay, well, best to just get it over with. And besides, maybe he’s less of a dick now?”

She laughs a little in attempt to be supportive. I think.

As we’re walking down the corridor, I think back to when I first met him back in 2014. Obviously I knew who he was, ‘Bill Hader: SNL Alumni, Comedian, Actor, Father, blah blah blah’. At the time, he was also ‘Husband’ but I was told that the fact was no longer true. I make a mental note to not be so harsh on him, not wanting to be that person who bashes him so soon after a divorce.

I remember I was actually quite fond of him at first, I watched most of his stuff and admittedly, he was my ‘celebrity crush’ for the longest time. And when I met him in person, he actually was exactly like everyone described him as: funny, sweet, charming, an all ‘round nice guy. Not to mention insanely attractive. He was cute, even I can admit that. I don’t really remember why we didn’t get along all those years ago. I think it was a mixture of a clash of personalities and the fact that we’re both quite stubborn. Terribly stubborn. From what I can remember, we never exactly agreed on sketches or punchlines or anything really. But like Lorne said, it’s been 4 years. Maybe we’ll get along better.

My train of thought gets lost when we reach the door to Lorne’s office. I see Aidy push it open and walk in as I follow her, hearing that everyone seems to be in the middle of a conversation. Right before I get through the door, I hear him. His loud, obnoxious laugh filling the room. The laugh that so easily gets under my skin and makes my stomach feel all weird and uneasy.

I head into the room and find a seat, and that’s when I look up to see him. Bill. Standing in front of me in a blue shirt and black jeans and those white trainers he seems to wear to every fucking interview. He stands there staring at me with this smirk on his face that make my cheeks go red. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there by Lorne’s desk and right before he looks away to continue his conversation with Kenan, he winks at me. I look down as not to cause trouble like Lorne said, and partly to hide my cheeks getting hotter and pinker by the second.

I tug at the loose thread of my sweater, looking at the floor to avoid his gaze. I don’t know why I’m getting so flustered, it is Bill after all. The man who so thoroughly annoys and teases me relentlessly. My mind begins to over-analyse everything and before it begins to run any further, I get called on to pitch a sketch idea.

Right before I open my mouth, I see Bill cross his arms in anticipation and looking deeply into my eyes with that stupid smile of his, probably eager to find something to tease me over later. But then I catch him lick his lips suddenly and a chill runs up my arms.

I look back down at my notepad and think, Oh boy, this week will be interesting.

[lebrookestore]

I'm glad I was of help, I can completely relate to getting hyper fixated on something related to school (which sometimes has been just having to go back to school after a 2 day holiday) and feeling like my life will be forever ruined when I have to finally face the school related situation but nothing actually ends up happening

In my case I don't really cry but I end up feeling pretty uncomfy and sick(sometimes puke) with all the anxiety, and similar stuff is the case for a lot of my friends which is just really sad :(, it's just a mixture of asshole parents/relatives that we will forever end up defending because it's just ingrained in our mind to defend adults and people who'll say school performance doesn't matter when we panic but then get inredibly upset when something goes slightly wrong (ie passive aggresive bitches :cough: teachers :cough: parents) what makes me feel grounded these days though is my brother who's a decade older than me and he seems to be living pretty satisfactorily despite being not being the best at school and recieving the same shitty remarks from my mom as I do, he has good friends, enjoys video games like he did when he was my age but still is also a responsible adult which makes me realise how insignificant all of this is and I'm more than capable of getting through it, all of us are

these set of exams I have prob done my best job avoiding the anxiety and I'm happy that I have and I assure you they will be barely an eighth of the difficulty of a typical written exam, most kids will do good and if you've done most of the prep already you'll barely have to do any revision, after you give the first one you'll prob get what I mean

as for my username, I changed it to the one I use on other social media because yes it's hard to remember (literally a keyboard smash because I didn't think I would be using Tumblr often when I made the account)

these are the sample paper links

https://cisce.org/publicationdetail.aspx?id=96

http://cbseacademic.nic.in/SQP_CLASSX_2021-22.html

(idk why writing asks on the web version doesn't allow links), these are how your forms are going to be because they are the official ones(well depending on whatever board your school is under)

and ik how exciting it is to wait for exams to get over so you can do something creative you're into, for me it's drawing and I have so many fanart ideas with all these comebacks and my new flaming passion for resident evil (idk how this happened), let's get this bread!

also, I too, am an averagewelcome to the playground enjoyer (｡•̀ᴗ-)

good night!

#fuck school

this ended up being quite a long answer but i actually enjoyed answering it!! the answer is under the cut hehe

gosh i get hyperfixated on every little thing like today school sent out a revised time table?? with new dates for the exam??? when our exams were supposed to start on thursday this week?? which would be fine tbh its extra four days to study but at the same time i was mentally prepared for the exam on thursday yk?? and now math is my last paper yall-

my anxiety gets triggered like that too!! i tend to get panic attacks or sort of blank out in stress because im so anxious and then it refrains me from functioning like a normal human being😭 i just sort of short circuit and then pray for the best lmao, and yes!!! i totally get the need to defend your parents/adults because they are at a level of superiority to you?? its like some sort of twisted duty?? honestly good for your brother, and I'm glad you have an example of the sort!!!

unfortunately im complete opposite this is the exam i am the most stressed out and anxious about rip💀💀but honestly that confirmation you've given me as someone who has gone through it is really comforting, mine start on Monday and i am in full on study mode

!! i didn't mean you had to change your username bby i just meant you could have given me a nickname for the tags but if you're more comfortable with this one that's great!! i think its cute<33

AND THANK U SO MUCH FOR THOSE SAMPLER PAPERS YOU ACTUAL ANGEL ✨✨✨ I SHALL TAG THIS FOR RESOURCES FOR LATER

i am actually always on the web oversio nf tumblr for the most part because my asian parents refuse to let me have control over anything and have put a timer on my phone so that it konks off the moment an hour is up🤡😭 the life of an indian student 💔💔

and omg you do fanart??? is that where the suggestion of people doing fanart for my fics for my milestone event came from?? in that case i would absolutely love to see what you'd create taking inspiration from my fics but don't feel pressured to do so!! and you have a flaming passion for resident evil, while mine lies with genshin lmao

📢WELCOME TO MY PLAYGROUND SUPREMACY 📢

good night! I'm sorry i answered this so late i was studying all day rip, but thank you for this ask it was a lot of fun, I'm going to study a little more before i go to bed and yes #fuck school

[lambourngb]

How bout some Michael POV for your masterpiece?!!!

This takes place during chapter 2, Michael has just exited the mindspace and is waiting for the agents to question him. 

“I take my last chance, to burn a bridge or two”

Michael had passed the point of exhaustion both two days and ten years ago. 

The thin, plastic covered cushion in the holding cell at Chaves County Sheriff's Office had the same feel of familiar comfort as his camp bed mattress in the Airstream, both places adequately met his needs after a bender or a brawl. He was never one to shy away from dropping into oblivion, met in the bottom of the bottle or at the end of a long night of working on his ship, until today. Closing his eyes meant slipping into the almost hypnotic state of the mindspace, and then he would hear her voice again.

His mother. Golden and whole for a moment. She was the energy between his cells, the original instructor of his atoms, funneling life into him; to grow and be strong.

“Oh my beloved son, oh you’re here, you’re here already grown and bound, I’m here, but no time, not enough time, there’s so much you should know my beautiful boy, I love you, I love you so much, I will always love you, now go, run, run for me.”

His eyes snapped open as the burn of tears threatened again. Goddamn it, he didn’t have time for that. Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the unremarkable ceiling to force his mind to go quiet. It was an old building, but built soundly. Not a crack in the plaster, not a flaw to betray its age. It housed the broken, who knew where home was but stayed away in the arms of intoxication; the evil, who knew home as a place for violence or thievery, and the lost, who longed for a home but never found the way back. All those souls gathered under its roof, this solid roof that sheltered without wear or tear.

At one time Michael had been all of those; deep into the dark warmth of drunk, or full of crooked wagers from dice games, he had even been picked up on a cold night a time or two with nowhere to go. Marked by violence in a tool shed, the system shocked with such a hard shove on his orbit, that he was knocked forever from the path he once had as a teenager, left to wander in all of those grim directions. 

Once upon a time his English teacher assigned to the class, near the end of term with graduation nipping at their heels, some busy work in the form of a ‘where do you see yourself in ten years’ thought experiment. His hand had sketched out a good job, college degree, and a house, while his mind traveled the fantasies of holding the small hands of a child, of helping pat dirt down over a buried seed in his garden, of Alex, always Alex, playing his guitar on the back porch-

Fuck. His bare left hand, now whole and hale, mocked him.

Michael wrenched his mind back to the present, and dug out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket to wrap over his left hand. He tied a knot, pulling it tight with his teeth. A bitter smile crept over his mouth, using his teeth again for the grip he lost in his hand was familiar at least.

Hopefully whatever trouble that Max was in, was teaching him a lesson in meddling where he wasn’t wanted. High on power Max thought to heal his hand, but took no care to think about the damn consequences of everything, of Noah, of the things Noah was up to in Roswell. He flexed his hand again, the tight constriction of the fabric felt comfortably close to how the scar tissue pulled and tugged over his ruined knuckles. Already there were too many questions to answer, he didn’t need one more on his hand. 

As angry as he was at Max, he couldn’t help but hope that the flash of pain/wrong/vacuum wasn’t so serious that he couldn’t be useful now. Ride into the Sheriff’s Office, explain away the questions to his boss about Noah and Racist Hank, so Michael could be released without need of Alex and Alex’s story.

Goddamn it Alex. Showing up at the Wild Pony, those hopeful dark eyes turning wounded and betrayed as he realized that just because he didn’t see Michael as suitable, someone else did. Like he had the right to protest Michael moving on from them. It wasn’t Michael saying that they couldn’t be together because of Michael’s record, and it certainly wasn’t Michael saying that their relationship wasn’t worthy of a pyrotechnic breakup. 

And yet. When the pyrotechnics were happening, Alex was there. Immovable. Saying everything that Michael had longed to hear for ten long years.

“I love you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and I would give anything to have this story be true, that you were mine all along.”

A tear slipped down his unshaven face as he blinked rapidly. Alex was so stupid, how could he miss the fact that Michael had been his? Across the years, through two different battlefields, and after Alex had finally come home, Michael had worn two concrete boots, Alex and Isobel. Each his own anchor to this planet, as he worked to complete his ship.

The door swung open, startling Michael off the bunk, as a tall, dark haired man was escorted into the room by Agent Ross, who shot Michael an annoyed look. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready.” 

The imposing cut of the military uniform and densely packed square of ribbons on his chest sent a shivered down Michael’s spine. It was only just over two days since Michael had been involved in the destruction of a secret military operation. 

“Michael Guerin?” 

“Depends on who is asking.”

“I’m Major Mark Torres, attached to the JAG office at Kirtland Air Force Base.” The officer tucked his cover under his arm and held his hand out toward Michael. 

None of what this Mark Torres said made any sense to him. Kirtland was three hours away, Holloman was the closest base to the Caulfield facility. Michael lifted his eyebrows mockingly, but made no move to step closer to the open cell door, “That’s nice and all, but I’ve got nothing to say to anyone until my lawyer shows up.”

An amused smirk flitted over his mouth, “I am your lawyer, Alex sent me.” Instead of waiting for a response, Mark entered the cell and took a seat on the bunk, turning to Michael with a patient expectation. He placed the brim of his cover next to Michael’s black cowboy hat and then pulled his slim briefcase into his lap.  “I admit, this isn’t how I expected to meet you, the infamous Michael.”

“Alex got me an Air Force lawyer?” The rest of that implication, that Alex had spoken of them to anyone in the past, let alone someone in the service was too much to even think about.

“I’m a lawyer who’s in the Air Force, and I’m doing this in the civilian court system pro-bono,” Mark replied easily, and popped the fasteners of his briefcase open to pull out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Now that we’ve covered why I’m here, let’s talk about why you’re here. Tell me everything you know about Noah Bracken, what your connection to him, why the police might think you’re involved with his disappearance, and why they found a body when they came to question you.”

Michael stared at Major Mark Torres for a long moment, weighing his extremely limited options. The distant place inside him, where his faint connection to Max lived, was still and empty. He rubbed his wrapped fist against his face before sighing as he took a seat next to him. Alex said to trust him that he would get Michael out of this, and whatever mess that lay between them after Caulfield and now Maria, Michael believed wholeheartedly that Alex didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

As a rule Alex Manes didn’t make promises at all, to anyone, least of all to Michael.

“I know Noah Bracken, I mean everyone does in this town and I have a record, petty shit obviously, but that’s enough I guess for them to suspect me. But I have an alibi, I was with my boyfriend all night- hell, I’m with him every night. We’re kinda makin’ up for lost time since he was in Iraq, until well-”

“You’re referring to Captain Alexander Manes, correct?” Mark asked, scratching notes down on his pad without looking up.

“No one calls him ‘Alexander’, but yeah. Alex.” Michael licked his lips almost nervously, before he took a deep breath. This was the easy part of the alibi. “Alex is everything to me. I fell in love with him when we were seventeen, and I never stopped fallin’.”

“He did mention you were a romantic.” Mark nodded in approval of Michael’s words and capped his pen, “let’s start with the last time people saw Bracken in public at that-, good God, this town has a museum dedicated to aliens? What a thing to celebrate. Anyway, Alex tells me you’re a mechanic, that you can fix anything you put your hands on, were you at the gala for business purposes?”

Michael stuttered a little, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to anyone singing his praises, let alone a complete stranger. What did Alex say to this guy? “Um I helped do the lighting and sound for the organizer, Isobel. Um, Isobel Evans-Bracken. I left Alex at home, err, my Airstream ‘cause he doesn’t really enjoy the dog-and-pony show even though there was free booze. I gave a friend a ride home, Maria Deluca, and then spent the rest of the evening with Alex. In bed.”

His pen never stopped moving, “and last night, when this Hank Gibbons ended up dead, you were with Alex again? At your Airstream again?”

“Yeah, um, Alex lives pretty far out of town, and I had work in town. Um, during the week he spends a couple nights at mine, on weekends we’re at his place. Compromise.” 

Spinning this fairy tale of shared residences to Torres, of disappearing to Alex’s cabin on the weekends and splitting the time apart during the week renewed an ache inside Michael. The slow turn of a bolt, burrowing into his heart as the threads of the light caught on hope and corkscrewed deeper into place. 

“No one can corroborate that, correct? Other than Alex?” 

“We’ve been keeping our relationship quiet. For personal reasons.”

This time Mark’s pen came to a halt, and he looked over to Michael with a sad understanding smile, “I’ve met Alex’s dad. He’s a first class prick. I’ve never met anyone more different from Alex in my life.”

“That’s for sure. Niger can have him. In fact, I hope he gets Ebola over there.” His eyes glanced up to the video camera on the corner before dropping to Torres again. Michael paused, hedging the risk of this disclosure, before continuing, “I’m not a violent man, but if I were, I wouldn’t bother with the town lawyer or the local racist asshole, it would be to protect Alex from that guy.”

Mark followed his gaze to the camera and back, before nodding. “I think I know all I need to know about you, Michael. Let’s go clear this up with the locals and get you released.”

*** 

“You were with Captain Manes all night? You didn’t leave at all?” Agent Ross asked quietly, his thin face placid, while his partner, Agent Rollins barely held back the curl of disgust from his face. 

“Have you seen Alex? Like dude, I know I’m punching way above my class with him, you would have to be crazy to leave a bed that had him in it.” Michael smirked, fiddling with his hat on the table. Next to him, Major Torres stayed quiet taking notes.

“And he can confirm that?”

“Yes. I know he didn’t let you have a good look, but my Airstream isn’t big enough for him to miss me leaving. Trust me. We were together all night.”

“Let’s go back to the fight you had with Mr. Bracken-”

“Man, that’s bullshit, okay?!” Michael cut him off, “I did not have a fight with Noah, and whoever says differently is lying.”

Mark set down his pen to touch Michael’s hand lightly, before looking at the two agents evenly, “one eyewitness, on a dark night, does not overturn the alibi provided by Captain Manes. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“This relationship you’re in with Captain Manes, he’s alluded to the fact that it was kept secret. I find that rather convenient, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to help out a friend. Maybe cover up the fact you were having an affair with the wife of our missing lawyer?” Rollins smirked, exchanging glances with his partner. 

It took a moment before Michael could catch the inference, and then only Mark’s tight grip on his wrist kept him in his seat. “Wait?! You think I’m lying about Alex to cover up for an affair with Isobel? What the fuck, man? Number one, that’s gross on a number of levels, number two, Alex is the most stubborn man alive, but he’s also the most honorable. He wouldn’t do that for anyone, especially not about adultery. He could get court martialed for that shit.”

Ross picked up his turn to provoke, offering another even almost-bored question to Michael, “I see, you deny that an affair was going on with Ms. Bracken. So you’re not attracted to women then?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Torres protested. 

“Mr. Guerin opened the door earlier, basing his alibi on how attractive a bed partner Captain Manes was.”

Michael took a deep breath again, pushing down the nettled feelings of exposure. Of all things he thought he would be discussing at the sheriff’s office, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “Not that it’s relevant, but I’m bisexual, yes. I’m also monogamous. It’s not that difficult to understand. I love Alex, I wouldn’t cheat on him with anyone.”

“So on the night of the Gala, that was thrown by your platonic good friend Mrs. Bracken, you were there, without Captain Manes, but in the company of a Ms. Maria Deluca. Another platonic friend, I assume. Do you remember anyone bothering Mr. Bracken? Someone who might have wanted to harm him?”

***

Hours later, after they had combed through every minute of Michael’s time at the gala and the night before when Hank Gibbons was at the Wild Pony, the agents finally concluded their questions and granted his release from temporary custody. There was still an air of disbelief from both agents regarding his alibi being with Alex.

From the outside, Michael couldn’t blame them. Even setting aside his spotty employment record, rap sheet, and history of being in care of the state, anyone with eyes could see that Alex Manes was a man who could have his pick of partners. Why would he pick the outcast of Roswell? It didn’t make sense to Michael that was for sure, and that had been true almost from the beginning.  

“This was fun, Agent Rollins. Let me know if you want me to go over my movements from the other night again, and Alex’s even better movements. I can really open up on that, if it helps,” Michael offered, stomping the blood back into his boots as he left the interview room eagerly.

There was some satisfaction in seeing out of the corner of his eye, Agent Rollins looking as if he had bit into a lemon. 

Next to him, Torres grabbed Michael’s forearm with a warning squeeze and steered him down the hall where Alex was waiting with a worried expression. “What my client means is, you have my number if you wish to schedule a follow-up interview. We’re happy to cooperate in any investigation, especially if it leads to Mr Bracken returning safely home.”

Alex’s eyes flickered from Torres’s hand on his shoulder to the agents and back to Michael, but there was a hint of smug satisfaction in those dark eyes. Somehow Michael knew that Alex was holding back amusement over his graphic words to the bigoted agent. Well, there was no sense in not completing the performance.

He moved into Alex’s space comfortably, and brought his hands to Alex’s neck to draw him into a kiss. His last memory of kissing Alex, had been handled and revisited to the point of being thread-bare before being set aside as an old fantasy out of reach. Feeling Alex’s arms come up and hold him close, sent shocks down his fingertips as he cupped Alex’s chin to hide the chasteness of the kiss from view. 

Alex wasn’t playing fair in return. 

Those big, firm hands of his slid up Michael’s back, and threaded into the sweat-thick curls of his hair. Michael felt Alex’s lips part against his, that clever hot mouth opening to Michael, and nothing tempted Michael more in that moment, than following Alex’s lead. 

That long bolt of the lie, turned deeper inside him, shredding the few safeguards he had in place. Alex loved him, Alex wanted to protect him, Alex had never stayed before- so many truths, so many reasons he wasn’t able to trust this especially now. Michael kept his mouth closed, and after a second, he felt Alex back away. They were good at that at least, retreating.

Alex’s cheeks were warm, probably from the public nature of the kiss, even as his face showed only the firm resolve of their shared story. His eyes drifted down, playing his role of a shy lover with Michael expertly. “You uh, ready to go home then?”

“Long past ready, darlin’.” Michael exhaled tiredly, already wondering how he was going to make it through this without losing more of his heart than he had to spare in the process. He reached for the familiar weight of his hat in his hand, and tipped it to the still watching agents. 

[onewfantaesy]

Upside Down (1/2)

(tw abuse, kidnapping, implied suicide ideation)

His whole life has been turned upside down. His whole entire life has gone to complete shit, and no one seems to care. He’s supposed to be Taemin. He’s supposed to be in SHINee and be a dancer and an idol and he’s supposed to be Taemin, but no one cares. Now he’s a different boy with a different name, and he’s even almost an entire two years younger than he thought he was, he’s not even the same age as Taemin, and these people, these new parents, his biological parents, won’t even let him be in the same grade at school as Taemin.

“You just turned fourteen, not sixteen,” the man snaps. “You’re going into your first year of high school.”

“But I already did that,” Taemin tried to tell him. “Please, it’s not fair!”

What’s also not fair is the way his new parents react to everything. “Well life isn’t fair,” they tell him, and if he ever cries, ever screams, they tell him the same line, “We’ll give you something to really cry and scream about.”

His hair has been dyed back to black. It’s getting too long and too shaggy but they refuse to spend money on a haircut because, “That box dye was enough, you’re costing us too much. Be grateful.”

His entire body hurts. Everything hurts and aches and burns, but he’s not allowed to tell anyone. “They’ll think you’re faking,” they tell him. “That you just want to go back to being an idol, that all you want is attention.” So he pulls his uniform sleeves down as far as they’ll go, and he keeps his hair in front of his face, and he hunches over his desk when the pain gets to be too much. The teacher never calls on him anyway. And if she does, Taemin doesn’t hear it. No one ever says anything. No one ever notices. And if they do, they don’t say a word.

He misses his real parents and he misses his brother and he misses his dogs and he wants to go home. This isn’t home. Nothing could get worse than this, this is hell, this is torture.

Anytime he asks about his brother, he regrets it.

“You don’t have a brother!” they shout at him.

“Yes I do!” he shouts back in a rare show of defiance. “We grew up together! We were raised together! He’s my brother and I don’t give a damn what you say!”

He’s curled up on his bedroom floor, struggling to breathe, an hour later. He can taste blood in his mouth, and he moves a shaking hand to his lip and taps a gentle finger to his bottom lip, hissing when he grazes the split in the skin. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, and for a long, long time, he prays. Desperately, he prays. For someone to notice. For someone to see him. For someone to care.

It’s seven months after he was returned to his birth parents that anyone does anything. Seven months before a teacher reports the bruises, reports the withdrawn personality, reports the pained way Taemin walks or holds himself up. Seven months before he’s removed from their care.

And somehow, where he ends up is even worse. Sometimes, he thinks God is playing a sick, cruel joke on him.

Some tiny part of him thought for the last seven months that maybe, just maybe, he could go back to his parents. That if anyone noticed how terrible, how mean, how evil his birth parents were, that they would let him go back to his real parents.

“They’re not your parents,” his social worker tells him. “They’re kidnappers. Do you understand that?”

They tell him he has Stockholm syndrome. That it’s to be expected. He’s traumatized and needs to come to terms with it.

Except he never felt traumatized until his birth parents started to beat the shit out of him the second day after he was returned to them. But that’s apparently not what matters.

All that matters is that all his parents are now in prison, and he’s been sent to what he’s sure is the world’s worst group home. A ward of the state, is what he’s been told he is now. Whatever that means. Because no one seems to want to explain anything to him other than, “This is your new room. These are your new clothes. This is your new school. These are your daily chores.”

He shares a room with three other boys, all older than he is, even if he still thinks of himself as the same age as them. He’s not fourteen. He’s sixteen. He’s supposed to be sixteen, but no one cares.

“What did I do?” Taemin whispers into his pillow every night, begging God for an answer. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The boys he lives with now, even if it’s not as crowded in this one room as it was at the SHINee dorm, make it Taemin’s one personal hell on earth. He went from getting beat up by a grown man to getting beat up by three teenage boys. He doesn’t know which is worse. At least he didn’t have to share the same room as his biological father.

He doesn’t sleep, afraid they’ll attack him the moment he closes his eyes. It makes him fuck up at school, and he’s always falling asleep in class, and now the boys he’s in class with pick on him too. This is his second new school in less than a year. And it really feels like everyone hates his guts. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Why did he end up here? Why did his parents kidnap him? Why did his biological parents hate him so much? Why do these other boys have it out for him? Why can’t he just go back to SHINee? Why can’t he be in the right grade at school? Why why why?

Why is this happening to him?

He’s curled up on his bed in the middle of the day a month later. His hood is over his head, his blanket is clutched to his chest, and the woman in charge for the day calls his name from the door. But he already did his chores, and if they try to get him to go eat lunch with the others, they’re crazy. He doesn’t eat with them. He hardly eats at all. He can’t keep anything down, he’s half afraid he’s going to get poisoned.

“You have a visitor,” she says, and Taemin snaps towards the door.

“Is this a dream?” Taemin asks, his voice cracking. He sits up, blinking his eyes hard, his hair falling in front his face. It’s better that way. Hides him from everyone else.

“It’s not a dream,” the man says, and he sits down in a chair he pulls to place across from where Taemin is sitting on the bottom bunk bed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit earlier. It took a while to find you.”

Sooman is sitting in front of him. In the flesh. A sad smile across his face. But Taemin can’t figure out why.

“You have a new name,” Sooman chuckles. “I’d forgotten originally, when I started searching for you.”

“I don’t like it,” Taemin snarls at him, and he doesn’t care if it’s disrespectful or unprofessional or any of that bullshit. He’s been abandoned and left out to dry by everyone who was supposed to give a damn about him. He has no respect left to give, not even to himself. “Don’t call me that name.”

“I won’t, Taemin.”

For a moment - for a brief, beautiful moment - Taemin almost feels like he can breathe again. He missed his name. He missed being Taemin. But then he remembers where he is and how he ended up there, and he goes back to feeling like he’s drowning.

So he holds his head down, his hair falling to hide him even more, and he stares at the man’s shoes.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“I wanted to see you,” Sooman says. “Wanted to check up on you.”

“That’s nice,” Taemin snaps, his shaking hands moving to grip the drawstrings of his sweatshirt. “No one else seems to want to.”

“I’m sorry you ended up here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Taemin can hear some of the other boys outside, laughing about something. Probably planning his demise. And it makes something inside of him snap, and he sends a desperate glance to the man in front of him.

“Please get me out of here,” he begs. “Please. Please.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” the man says, and Taemin’s never heard his voice so soft before. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s horrible,” he admits, his voice shaking as his chest starts to heave. “I don’t know which place was worse.”

So Taemin tells him everything. How the other boys have it out for him. How they attack him every chance they get. How they hit where it can be hidden, and he shows him his battered rib cage as proof. How he can’t focus in school because he can’t sleep, afraid they’ll attack him while he’s asleep like they did the first week. How he doesn’t eat anything when he’s at the group home because they once joked about poisoning him, and he’s not entirely sure it was a joke.

“I have no one,” Taemin cries. “I’ve gone to two different schools now and I have no friends, nothing. I’m not even in the same grade, I’m not even the same age.”

Sooman has since moved closer, moved to hold Taemin’s shaking hands, to assure him that he’s listening. And somehow, for some reason, Taemin is finally convinced that someone cares.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Taemin says, his voice shaking and cracking, and he can’t stop the tears falling down his face. And he’s never cried, never shed a single tear the entire time he was at SM, it had been part of his reputation.

But here he is now, nothing more than a broken child, crying.

“You’re Taemin,” Sooman tells him, squeezing his hands. “You’re Taemin, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this better for you.”

“How?” Taemin asks, laughing, feeling like he’s gone completely insane. “How can this be better? My parents are in jail. Everyone tells me they kidnapped me, they kidnapped my brother, I don’t even know where my brother is! No one will tell me, no one will let me even call him, and I don’t even want to think about what happened to our dogs.”

Taemin takes in a few shaking breath before he laughs, and he tells Sooman with a humorless little smile on his face, “You know what I think? I think they were my guardian angels.”

Sooman looks intrigued, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I think they saved me. They saved me, they took care of me, they loved me. And everyone else can say whatever they want, I don’t have fucking Stockholm syndrome. They were my parents and they loved me and now they’re in jail for what? For protecting me?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Sooman says gently.

“I don’t give a damn how complicated it is!” Taemin snaps. “If this is happening to me, then what’s happening to my brother? Where’s my brother? No one can tell me!”

“I’m looking for him-”

“Everyone only cares about the adults,” Taemin tells him. “Oh these poor parents, their kids were taken away. These horrible other people, they stole someone else’s kids. Well about the kids? What about me? What about my brother? What about us? No one cares what’s happening to us!”

“You just need to hold out a little while longer,” Sooman tells him.

“I don’t think I can,” Taemin admits, shaking his head. “I can’t - I can’t do this much longer.”

“Taemin?”

Taemin’s entire body is shaking, and he leans heavily against the bedpost, dark-rimmed, dull eyes looking at Sooman.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he says, his voice too-calm. “And I won’t have to. Soon enough.”

“I just need you to hold out just a little longer,” Sooman tells him, moving to squeeze Taemin’s hands. “Just a little longer, and things will get better.”

Taemin looks away, his eyes unfocused as he stares off towards the window.

“Taemin, I want you to listen to me,” Sooman says, and he continues even when Taemin doesn’t turn to look at him. “If someone hurts you, if someone tries to lay a single finger on you - I want you to fight back.”

“What?” Taemin asks, a humorless laugh leaving his throat. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Sooman says. “Image be damned. Idol training be damned. Someone threatens you, you fight back. Hard. Do whatever it takes. Don’t let them get away with it.”

Taemin turns to him, a shocked, confused expression on his face. He can’t believe Sooman himself is essentially telling him to go beat the shit out of people.

“This really is a dream, isn’t it?” Taemin mumbles. “Have I finally gone completely insane.”

“No,” Sooman assures him, but then the woman comes back to the room.

“Five more minutes,” she calls. “Then visiting time is up.”

Taemin turns back to Sooman and shakes his head.

“Please don’t leave me here,” he begs, moving his hands to grip at the man’s suit jacket. “You can’t leave me here, please, I’ll do anything, anything at all, I can’t stay here!”

“You’re going to be fine,” Sooman assures him quickly, then pulls a card out of his pocket. “Take this. Keep it with you, and if you ever need anything at all, no matter what time or what day, you call me.”

“Please don’t leave me here,” Taemin continues to beg.

“I’m going to be back soon,” Sooman tells him. “And everything will be okay. I promise you that.”

“You can’t leave,” Taemin cries, his voice breaking.

“Fight back,” Sooman says to him. “Do whatever it takes. Hurt them back if they hurt you.”

Taemin shakes his head, and he tries his best to keep Sooman there with him.

“Taemin,” he says gently. “Taemin, listen to me. Don’t do anything rash. Promise me that.”

Taemin’s chest heaves for a moment, because he wants to do it. He wants to do something rash, he wants to be away from this place. But finally he whispers, “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good,” Sooman says, and the woman is back again. “I’ll be back. I promise you I’ll be back. It’s just a little longer now, Taemin.”

Taemin eventually untangles his fingers from the man’s suit, but before he leaves the room, Taemin calls in a desperate voice, “Will you tell them - will you tell SHINee I miss them? Please?”

“I’ll tell them,” Sooman assures him. “And they miss you too. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

“Thank you,” Taemin whispers, and he grips the business card in his hand, hiding in his pocket.

He watches from the window as Sooman gets in a car and drives away. And once he’s gone, once the car is out of sight, a scream bubbles from Taemin’s throat, until he’s crying and heaving and punching and kicking the wall as hard as he possibly can, until his knuckles bleed, until his foot is numb, until his throat is raw.

He feels entirely numb as he lays in bed that night, the only thing keeping him grounded in reality is the business card still hidden in his pocket, his fingers running over the corners. Soon. Sooman promised him everything would be okay soon.

[almaasi]

3 million words fic rec (Destiel)

I’ve officially posted 3 million words on my AO3 account!!

Here’s all 115 of my Dean/Cas fics (as of December 30th 2019). They currently make up 85% of my total fics. I posted 42 fics this year, with a new Destiel fic once every 2 weeks on average, with 24 total.

(The rest, as of the last 6 months, are Crowley/Azriaphale (Good Omens) and Garak/Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine). There’s separate fic recs for those. And here’s one Cockles fic.)

Fics listed by year (newest first), then by word count (shortest first).

--

2019

Just a Sniffle (2k / canon, Cas has a cold, Dean gives him a foot rub)

Hanukkahn't Resist You (2k, AU, teacher!Dean gives autistic Jewish teacher!Cas a Hanukkah greeting card containing a pickup line)

Brothers Don't Do That (3k / canon, Cas talks to Sam about how their feelings for Dean differ while ordering take-out)

Taste the Rainbow (In the Rain) (4k / AU, strangers sharing Skittles in the rain and kissing to help Dean quit smoking)

Hit Pause Kitty Claws (4k / AU, Team Free Will are cats belonging to Death!Billie, soft fluff and feline antics)

Weird But Confident (5k / canon, Cas finds Dean’s panties in his bag and thinks Dean slept with a woman)

Enemies Closer (5k / teachers AU, Dean keyed the wrong car, Cas runs AV club and Dean joins him so he has an alibi for his crime)

Snugglebird (5k / canon, Dean’s clothes are going missing, Cas is building a nest

Texted My Ex and Got You Instead (6k, AU, title explains it, fluff, asexual!Cas)

The Angel Cake Challenge (8k / canon crossover with Good Omens (book), Dean tells Crowley & Aziraphale they’re a cute couple and they encourage him to make a move on Cas)

Let's Play Doctors (8k / canon, smut, Dean asks Cas for medical roleplay and they use the machines to watch themselves have first-time sex)

Good For You (11k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to masturbate over the phone, then shows him properly in person)

BFBF (Best Friend's Boyfriend) (11k / AU, ft. Eileen - Cas has an absent bisexual boyfriend named Dean, Sam has an absent straight brother named Dean, oops they’re the same Dean)

Dean and Castiel's Lagoon of Love (12k, canon, Cas is cursed with tentacles and that’s Dean’s kink, they roleplay Dean’s favourite anime, smut and feelings)

Measure of Thigh Love (14k / canon, Dean is turned on by big muscles, Cas has some of those. smut, bottom!Cas)

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel (15k / canon, Cas accidentally has physical wings and he hates them, Dean bathes and grooms Cas to soothe him, wing kink smut)

Two Heart Pose (17k / AU, overwhelmed papa!Dean, yoga instructor!Cas helps out with baby care)

Through the Lace (18k / office romance AU, desperation & pee kink smut, Dean in panties)

Sycamore Smile (18k / AU, professor!Cas, barista!Dean with a pet bunny, both are a hot mess, Dean helps Cas KonMari his life, ft. the purest fluff and sunshine)

Circuitry and Dust (23k / AU, demiromantic antique dealer!Cas, gaming lounge owner!Dean, Cas wrongly assumes his love is unrequited so helps set Dean up with an ex-girlfriend)

He's Kind of a Hairy Fairy (24k / AU, Team Free Will & co. running a summer camp, there’s only one bed in Dean & Cas’ cabin, Rowena curses Dean with fairy wings and he has to confess his feelings to get rid of them)

First and Only (35k / AU, Dean bets Sam he can have more sex in one year, Dean & Cas become fuck buddies, but Dean wants more so asks Charlie for help)

☆ Sleigh ☆ (46k / Christmas AU, makeup artist!Cas also works for Santa, Dean tags along delivering gifts on Christmas Eve, later a long distance relationship and eventual smut)

He's a (Zoo) Keeper (74k / AU, when zookeeper!Dean isn’t dating anyone, he and beekeeper!Cas have a BFF-roommates-with-benefits thing, but then Cas becomes a wedding planner and plans their fake wedding, drama with smut and feelings)

2018

Gulls N’ Roses (2k / canon, Dean hands Cas a rose, Cas interprets it as romantic)

Lost Night (2k / canon, Dean has nightmares, Cas dreamwalks to help)

He Called Me Honey (3k / canon, breakfast fluff, Dean dreamed he kissed Cas, talks to Sam, Cas shows up)

Note to Self: Cas Loves You (3k / canon, very drunk!Dean, Cas confesses his love)

I’m Dreamin’ of a Grey Christmas (4k / canon, Team Free Will 2.0 snow fight, Cas has some new grey hair, Dean has hearteyes, season 14 divergent)

Dry in the Downpour (5k / Pixar-short-inspired AU, umbrella-sharing)

Prince of the Ether Realms (5k / canon - season 13, must get married for a spell, Sam officiates)

Never or Forever (5k, canon, family dinner, Jody POV)

Without Further Ado (5k, canon, Dean has a list of “reasons not to be with Cas" but they’re all irrelevant now)

Wee Little Love Child (10k / canon, de-aged!Sam thinks Dean and Cas are his parents, gets them together)

Room for Two (The Mattress AU) (14k / college roommates AU, autistic!Cas, fake relationship, ALL the bed-sharing tropes)

Paramour by Post (18k / historical-ish AU, mail delivered to the wrong address, love letters, agender!Cas, bisexual!Dean)

Barbershop Duet (22k / Christmas AU, smut, shaving kink, domesticity, family gatherings)

The House That Wanted to Be a Garden (32k / AU, famous musician!Dean, gardener!Cas, fairies, accidentally moving in)

Duck Duck Boots (92k / ex-daredevil kindergarten teacher!Dean, agoraphobic Cas, small town magic realism & fate AU, looking after ducklings together)

2017

Unconditional (2k / canon - season 13, Dean explains why he loves Cas)

Mostly in Silence (4k / canon, Cas is depressed, Dean helps with self-care)

Restaurant Revelations (4k / canon, Dean and Cas tell Sam they’re engaged)

Whoa There Cowboy (5k / canon, cowboy-kink smut, porn-watching, magic fingers bed)

Pretty Panties and the Pool Shark (6k / kid!fic AU, autistic!Cas is scared of an imaginary shark in the school pool)

Purple Horse in a Coffee Shop (8k / ultimate office romance, pride parade, coffee shop AU)

Lucid Nightmare (10k / siren!Cas AU, dreamwalk-or-die, spooky fluff)

Stumble and Fall (20k / Team Free Will as dogs AU, search-and-rescue adventure, fluff & pining)

A Place and A Feeling (24k / AU, real estate agent!Cas, Dean looking for a house)

Night Exhibition (26k / AU, security guard!Cas at museum at night, friends to lovers, sex everywhere)

The Emporium of Christmas Enchantments (28k / Christmas, magic toyshop AU, kind of like a Disney movie)

Marshmalloween (33k / Halloween AU, Dean takes Sam’s teen friends to a haunted swamp, meet old bestie Cas, ghost adventures)

Our Garden Home (36k / everyone is a garden fairy, AU disabled autistic!Cas, found families)

The Wireless (58k / solarpunk carnival adventure AU, famous hunter!Dean, famous radio presenter angel!Cas, tent sex)

What We Ache For (93k / sex worker!Cas AU, Dean wants to make love, trauma recovery, Team Free Will & found families, a dog)

2016

Fight and Fool Around (5k / AU, bartender!Cas, Dean realises he’s bisexual, alleyway smut)

Tickle Fight Wasteland (5k / AU, fluff in a post-apocalyptic world, everyone is alive, tickle fight & cuddling)

Raising Hell in a Hotel (29k / kid!fic, living in a hotel AU, friendship, pining)

Welcome All Winchesters (60k / AU, snowy Christmas cabin, fake relationship, friends to lovers)

The Moonlighter and the Magician (67k / 1920s historical AU, asexual jewel thief!Cas, bisexual!Dean, running away together)

2015

What’s a Hickey? (1k / canon, Cas has a hickey, talks to Sam about it)

A Postcard for Castiel (4k / AU, kid!fic, autistic!Cas exchanges compliments with Dean, teacher!Charlie)

Symbols of Affection (4k / canon, Dean accidentally texts Cas a kissy-face emoji)

In Which Dean Frogs Up (6k / canon, Dean’s turned into frog in Moondoor, needs true love’s kiss to fix)

The One Where You Are A Guinea Pig (8k / canon, title says it all, Cas takes you to the bunker, Team Free Will interact)

We’re the New Romantics (8k / gifted & talented high school camp AU, aromantic!Cas, pop culture geek!Dean)

Waiting For That Final Moment (8k / AU, Cas interrupts Dean & Lisa’s wedding at a roller rink to declare his love, polyamory)

Delirium and Doctor Sexy (9k / canon, bisexual!Dean high on magical gas, thinks Cas is Dr. Sexy)

#ThankYouSammy (9k / canon, Sam prepares a Valentine’s Day dinner-date for Dean & Cas)

Dean Winchester the Puppydog (10k / canon, puppy play, submissive!Dean, hurt/comfort, non-sexual)

Father Material (12k / AU, asexual uncle!Cas, babysitter!Dean, kid!Claire, romantic attraction)

The Tailor of Fairy Ridge (17k / fairytale AU, tailor!Cas, fairy!Dean helps with clothing designs, good witch!Charlie, evil witch!Rowena)

Take You To The Country (18k / 1920s historical AU, pining, Dean reads an elopement proposal in the newspaper and realises it’s for him, running away together)

Sharing the Rain Dog (19k / AU, musician!Dean, FBI agent!Cas, sharing custody of a dog, have to move in to look after her)

Drop Anchor (42k / pirate!Cas, sailor!Dean, trapped on a deserted island and accidentally achieve domestic bliss AU)

Snow Place Like Home (But My Home Is With You) (47k / canon, Team Free Will in a B&B over Christmas, softness, smut & domesticity)

Held in Your Tender Hands (59k / AU, agender tattooed masseur!Cas, customer!Dean, workplace sex, paintball, found families, somnophilia)

2014

Cheek on Your Shoulder (1k / canon, Dean misses Cas, hugs him and can’t let go)

The Literal Bear Hug (1k / canon, Cas is accidentally a bear, cuddling)

If I Fall For You (2k / canon, Hannah likes Cas but Cas loves Dean)

If You Could Go Anywhere (3k / canon, Team Free Will ponder: all the drama is over, so what now?)

Cherry Pink Wedding (4k / AU, Dean & Cas both cry at Sam’s wedding)

Lettuce Share This Moment (4k / canon, Dean secretly likes salad… and Cas)

The Joke Is on You (And So Is Castiel) (4k / canon, April Fool’s Day, Cas pranks Dean & Sam when they pray for him)

Some People Would Call This Romantic (5k / canon, Dean and Cas take a long walk on the beach)

Panic Kiss (5k / AU, Dean has a panic attack, Cas calms him down, accidental kissing)

Boutique du Ballet (6k / canon, Dean loves ballet and wants to try the outfits - either crossdressing or trans-curious!Dean)

Minty Fresh Kisses (7k / canon, Dean teaches Cas to brush his teeth)

Sexier Than Doctor Sexy (8k / AU, doctor!Cas, Dean gets a prostate exam and enjoys it more than he should)

Sam Accidentally Sees the Whole Picture (10k / canon, smut, Sam is in the room while Dean & Cas do it for the first time, Sam POV)

Understanding Your Body in Ten Easy Steps (12k / canon, smut, Dean teaches Cas how to masturbate)

Roost (12k / AU, Dean and Cas are rescued fighting roosters, for some reason not that interested in girl chickens)

Dead Body Disposal 101 (14k / canon, angel!Cas wants to be a hunter so Dean & Sam show him how, Dean & Cas are bad at expressing feelings)

Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies (17k / roommate AU, autistic!Cas, confessing feelings surrounded by supportive friends)

Love Him in His Sleep (Love Him Always) (32k / canon, Dean has wet dreams about being cuddled, Cas is into somophilia and dreamwalks to gain consent)

Preacher Comfort (42k / AU, hurt/comfort, asexual preacher!Cas, nurse!Dean, hugs & cuddling, Halloween)

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) (58k / queer historical romantic angst AU, teacher!Cas, firefighter!Dean, meeting over the years & falling in love)

Hart of the Storm (119k / historical AU, hunter!Dean turned into a deer by shapeshifting god!Cas, magic forest)

2013

For a Scarf in October (1k / canon, Halloween, Dean wants to buy a ~women’s~ scarf, Sam tells him it’s okay)

Of All the Bars in the World (There Are None Between Us) (2k / prison AU, Dean and Cas are cellmates, discuss past and future intimacy)

Dean’s List (3k / canon, Dean writes a list of men he’d ~go gay~ for, Sam has a suggestion to make, bisexual!Dean)

Nobody’s Daddy (3k / canon, accidental baby acquisition, Dean breastfeeds, then Cas arrives with actual milk)

Foal Delivery Service (4k / AU fusion with ‘My Little Pony’ - kid pony!Dean finds out how heteronormative the world is, then meets agender pony!Cas, later have baby ponies together)

Winchester’s Rouge (6k / canon, angst, Dean tries on makeup and remembers his mother)

Manscaping (6k / canon, Cas cuts himself shaving his junk, Dean does first aid, boners)

Sharing Hands (6k / canon - season 8, smut, Cas is possessing Dean, masturbate together)

Play Nice, Kids (10k / AU or alternate canon, reverse-verse, angel winged!Dean, wing kink masturbation, sex toys)

Hello Night (11k / historical AU, demon possessing Dean, priest!Cas, crossroads sex to save Dean, Cas/demon & Cas/Dean)

Shadows Across the Camera Lens (13k / AU, smut, dominant bottom photographer!Cas, submissive top crossdressing underwear model!Dean)

Faerie Strange Circumstances (30k / AU hunters, fairy!Cas, fairy realm adventures, Bobby’s house, Charlie, Jody)

Bad Things With You (31k / AU or alternate canon, smut, catboy!Dean, catboy!Cas, mating urges, biting, licking, fake relationship is actually real)

Cowboys and Real Estate Angels (36k / AU, bisexual retired musician cowboy!Dean, old fan!Cas, lovemaking, falling in love in one night)

Try-Something Tuesday (48k / my most popular fic of all time, teacher!Dean, librarian teacher!Cas, smut in strange places, school trips, moving in together AU)

The Feline Perspective of a Guilty Conscience (51k / canon divergent - season 9, hurt/comfort, Dean transformed into a cat, sad angel!Cas, Team Free Will, forgiveness)

Foxfire Blossom (283k / AU, florist!Dean, rich!Cas, affairs, soap opera-level drama, sex, highly problematic lies, and cheating, ALL the characters)

2012

Angelhawke (407k / epic medieval fantasy AU, Dean and Cas are cursed to be animals in the day/night, travel with Sam and Bobby as they tell their story in flashbacks, quest to be together, based on ‘Ladyhawke’ but ~70% original story)

--

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Thank you all so much for supporting me all these years. I’m so excited to see what I end up writing next~!! ♥

Elmie x

[ceasarslegion]

You know I’m in 11th grade and we don’t have a dare program anymore. Like I haven’t heard about dare since I was in like elementary school. Like 3rd maybe 5th grade was the last time? Cause they used to give us pencils and crap with the red letters I remember that, but in school we haven’t spoken about dare in years. I don’t know what happened. Why would would have that in elementary school, and not middle school, or especially not in high school, I don’t really get.

Damn, school kids these days don't even have to deal with the dare program anymore??? Wack

It was weird back then, too. Every thursday for my entire 6th grade year, they pulled us out of class to talk about drugs and alcohol. Except it wasn't really "education," it was mostly just the same cop coming to our school every week to yell at us about how drugs and alcohol are so bad and evil that even looking at them would kill us, and all addicts are the devil incarnate. It was super fucked up in hindsight, especially with the heavy demonization of addicts, and really reeked of the gym teacher from Mean Girls teaching health class.

And the thing is, it did more harm than good for the same reason that abstinence-only sex ed ends in MORE unwanted pregnancies: they just yelled at us to never touch it and implied that everyone who did was a hopeless basket case who was too worthless to deserve any help. So what did they expect would happen once we grew up and experimented with the light stuff, like alcohol and weed, and found out that it wasn't some unholy demon that would ruin our lives and kill us instantly? When kids grow up and find out you lied about the little, mostly inconsequential ones, they're gonna think you lied about the harmful ones, too. That's why the dare program can be tied back to more heavy drug use in people around my age group, it's really fucked up.

And the thing is, I'm actually not opposed at all to drug and alcohol education in schools. I'm for it, as long as it's done correctly. By that, I mean instead of just yelling at children to never touch it and making up scary stories to fearmonger them out of it which doesn't work anyway, teach them harm reduction instead. You can't ever stop someone from doing something, but you can give them the tools to do it safely. A good drug education program would be honest about it IMO, teach kids how to spot their limits with alcohol, how to dose correctly with weed, etc. And yeah, I'm gonna sound pretty radical here, but they should also teach age-appropriate kids how things like needle exchange programs and safe injection sites work. As well as how narcan works, where to get it, and how to administer it if someone's ODing.

And for the love of god, I would toss the hardcore demonization of addicts I got out the window altogether. I'd replace it with like... stories from real addicts and teach compassion instead of hatred. Because yeah, statistically speaking at least a few kids in those classes WILL grow up to become addicts themselves regardless of their education, but that's WHY we need to overhaul it altogether. Those kids deserve to know that it's not a death sentence, they're not evil or worthless or hopeless, and something as simple as knowing how to inject with clean needles while someone with narcan is around might save their life.

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108′s Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 5.

“Marcy’s alive?” Jon asked incredulously, eyes wide in surprise. Martin stood next to him, and their height different was apparently “adorable,” or so class 108 had said.

“That’s what Annabelle told me.” Martin replied, thinking back to the conversation and searching for details in the way that she’d sounded. He knew he was dealing with the Web though; Annabelle was nothing if not manipulative and direct in both her overt and subtle actions.

“On the phone.” Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“That’s where we talked, yeah.” Martin confirmed, his tone shifting as he looked behind them to see Elliot and Raphi snogging while the others, (minus Riko and Katie), chanted “make out! Make out!” over and over again.

Nope, he was not getting into that.

“How? Why is Annabelle keeping her alive?” Jon asked, pointedly ignoring what was going on behind them.

“She’s not, or at least that’s what she said. She thinks it has something to do with the End.” Martin told him wearily.

“That’s lucky for us.” Jon said.

“Why?”

“We’re coming upon the Corpse Roots soon enough.”

Martin perked up. “Are we going to, you know, go kill bill?”

Jon hesitated.

“Jon.”

“I don’t know, Martin. It’s-Oliver Banks rules over this domain.” He explained, gesturing wildly.

“So?” Martin questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I, I just don’t think…I don’t think he’s evil.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a very benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison.” Martin replied sarcastically.

“It’s just-he helped me. Wh-when I was,” Jon sighed, running his hand through his hair and taking a second to pause, “He woke me up.”

“Wow, what a hero.” Martin deadpanned.

“Martin?” Jon asked, amused and raising an eyebrow.

“What.” Martin said shortly. Jon made an amused noise, an all-too-knowing smile beginning to grow on his face.

“Yeah, alright; I know; I’m sorry.” Martin apologized quickly, sighing.

Jon was now smirking, voice full of amusement. “…Is there something you want to talk about?”

No, I’m-fine; it’s fine; everything’s fine! I’m sorry.” Martin said quickly, ducking away and speeding up his footsteps. Jon did the same to match him, a smug grin on his face.

“Martin…” His expression was like the cat getting the cream.

“I said it’s fine.” Martin snapped quickly.

“Are you jealous?” Jon questioned, oh so audibly smug.

“Yeah, Martin, are you jealous?” Raphi yelled, pulling away quickly before snogging Elliot once again.”

“Oooh…” The class’s eyes lit up, their voices in unison, getting higher in pitch as their call of smugness continued. Turning away from the couple, they advanced towards the two men who led the head of their group. Cal clapped politely at Elliot and Raphi as they broke away to join the rest of his peers in taunting Martin.

“Just-just, hey, why is everyone ganging up on me!” Martin cried indignantly. Elliot smirked, before starting a chant.

“Mr. Sims and Martin, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love-” Elliot grinned as he spoke, before Cal cut him off quietly.

“-Then comes marriage-”

“Then comes a baby in a baby carriage!” Tabitha finished, grinning with a smug glee.

-

“Don’t they have anything better to do then gossip about our teacher’s love life?” Riko scoffed, trailing behind the rest of the class with Katie at her right.

“…probably not.” Katie answered dully, looking on with something akin to judgmental fondness, as much as that could be expressed on someone who was as reigned in as her.

“…that’s fair.”

-

“I told you not to Know things about me!” Martin pointed at Jon, telling him off.

Jon laughed. “I really didn’t have to.”

“I-y-you-good. ‘Cause I’m definitely not.” Martin said stubbornly, looking ahead in defiance.

“Sure.” “Pfft, that’s such a lie-” “Are you scared he’s gonna steal yo’ man?” “PUT A RING ON IT MARTO!”

“Alright!” Jon agreed smugly, obviously taunting Martin.

“Look, I’m fine, alright?” Martin told him forcefully.

“You said.” Jon agreed, nodding with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, I did! And e-and even if I was jealous, I would be perfectly justified anyway, so!” Martin explained quickly, refusing to look Jon in the eye.

Class 108 was snickering, and Martin decidedly didn’t comment on that.

Respect your elders! he wanted to tell them. But he couldn’t control them, no matter how much he wanted to. They were teens.

Teens.

He sighed inwardly, mentally banging his head against a wall.

“But you’re not.” The fact that Jon’s amusement was almost tangible is one that Martin loathed.

“No! I’m fine.” Martin exclaimed.

“Hey, give him a break. I say murder is a go.” Elliot coos, and Cal laughs quietly behind him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rosie said, laughing.

“Riko agrees with me. Hey! Riko! You agree, don’t you?” Elliot raised his voice, gaining Riko’s attention.

“Oh, I’m not getting involved.” She told him, raising her eyebrow.

“Pfft, boring.” He said, sighing dramatically.

“Tch.”

“Look. Martin, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous.” Jon and Martin continued to argue, both attempting, (and failing), to tune out class 108’s jeers.

“Why not?!”

Beat.

Martin deflated. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know, I know.” He sighed, before pausing. “Please?”

Jon laughed and Martin’s lip quirked upwards.

“Let’s go apeshit! Let’s go fucking apeshit!” Tabitha screeched, pumping her fist into the air.

“Language.” Jon chastised, heart not in it.

Tabitha stuck her tongue out.

-

Cypress felt…strange. It was the only way to put it. The corpse roots were comforting, in their own way, and he looked on with a fondness that should have surprised him.

It didn’t.

He knew what the End was now, but he still thought of it as death more than anything else. And he found peace in that.

Or maybe it was the depression talking.

He didn’t really care.

But he was pulled in, interested and feeling an odd, almost tugging need to do something. He had no idea what that something was, but he knew he’d find out soon.

“-know, but I just, I need to. I can be ignorant when all of this is going on!” Tabitha said loudly, surprising Cypress out of his reverie. He turned, and saw that she was talking to Mr. Sims.

“Statements…Tabitha, they change you. I’m not sure-”

Ah, so this was what they were arguing over. Cypress had been worried too. Tabitha’s hunger for knowledge was not knew, but the desperation to get it certainly way.

Or maybe not. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had always been there it to an extent.

“Please,” she begged, voice rising, “I just-I need to know. This world, it’s…it’s terrible. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“You really think this will change anything?” Riko shot back acerbically.

“No, but it’ll make me feel better, so piss off.” Tabitha snapped, then sighed. “Sorry Riko.” She apologized.

Riko rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

Jon sighed. “Fine. Okay. You can listen.” Martin raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head. Tabitha cheered.

Cypress stepped closer. “I,” he paused, looking around before finalizing his thoughts, “I want to listen too.”

Jon was once again taken aback. “Why?” he said, incredulous.

Cypress shrugged. “I don’t know. I just,” he sighed, “I have my reasons, okay?”

Jon nodded slowly, sighing and motioning Martin to leave with the rest of the class, who looked on concernedly.

He waited a moment before he furrowed his brows and talked once again, looking up at the two students. “Once I start, I can’t stop. But if you get uncomfortable, at all, please leave. I won’t think worse of you or take offense. Agreed?”

Tabitha and Cypress nodded, but they both knew they’d stay, no matter how horrible it was. Jon sighed, and began the statement.

Report to prevent future deaths. This report is being sent to:   The Great Eye that watches all who linger in terror and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze. And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself.

One: Coroner.

I am Oliver Banks, sometimes known as Antonio Blake or Dr Thomas Pritchard. I serve The Coming End That Waits for All and Will Not Be Ignored.

Two: Coroner’s legal powers.

I make this report under no authority; no regulation or act of law save the hollow power and grim responsibility given me by the Termination of All Life. With it, I may see and spread the hidden veins of destiny that wrap us close and draw us through the empty, yearning parody of meaning that we call life, knowing at all stages that the last and final point of this journey is a blank and futile end.

I have no power to stop it, and even if I did, I would not do so. For to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming.

Three: Investigation and inquest.

On the first and last day of the age of the Beholding, I begin my vigil into the story of Cypress Evans.”

Cypress and Tabitha looked up, eyes wide.

“What?” They said in unison, before refocusing once again.

He was about thirteen when it happened. Or, rather, he happened. The tendrils of the lonely had clung to him, but that is not the focus of my tale. No, I suppose I’ll be blunt.

Cypress Evans killed himself.

Cypress grit his teeth, and Jon’s eyes were wide. Tabitha tried to get up, despite her curiosity, in order to preserve his privacy, but felt tied down to the roots like a string.

Cypress did the same, not wanting to remember the tale that was spilling from Jon’s mouth.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t write a note, but in the days before his first ending he gave many gifts to those he cared about. Gifts that were his belongings.

He even wrote a small will, though it wasn’t as if it was anything official. He was thirteen; he didn’t have much property of his own.

But that is not the important part. What is important, is that he succeeded. Cypress Evans was officially dead for about five hours. No one found out.

Tabitha inhaled quickly, and this was not unnoticed by Cypress, who looked down in shame. She took his hand and gripped it while she maneuvered him to rest next to her, huddled into a ball while he shook.

Because he woke up.

Her eyes widened once again, glancing at him in shock.

His arm was knitted back together by some sort of thin, clear thread. And he was alive.

He didn’t tell a soul.

It was about two months later when he tried again, a different method this time. He tried pills. So many pills. A lot of pills.

And so, Cypress Evans died for the seemingly second time. And for the seemingly second time, he came back.

He looked away. Tabitha could guess that he thought it was a failure on his part, but she was glad that it hadn’t worked.

And worried for him.

How had she not known? Did she not pay enough attention?

She bit her lip in thought.

He is one of many thousands, neither remarkable nor unique in his background and goals. He has spent the last three of those years acutely aware of his seemingly immortal state of being and in constant dismay over it. The thing was, Cypress never feared death.

He craved it.

And it was being denied from him, one time, then two, then three, then four, then five, and so it goes on. At some point, it became recreational, to not be anything at all. To end, even if temporarily.

Cypress clenched his fist, and Tabitha squeezed his other hand.

Do not worry, Cypress. I’m certain you’re listening to this, though I’m not sure why I’m aware of that face. That thought was not my own, and I’m acutely aware of a spider crawling down my arm, so I can only assume one of the Web’s ilk is involved with this. Never the matter, I wanted to tell you this. No matter how immortal you may think you are, all things end, even if it takes a very, very long time.

You can be reassured that one day, you will die.

Tabitha hated the look of relief that washed over him, but shivered at the thought of being manipulated. The Web, above all others, irked her, ever since her experience with Marcy.

Back to my account.

Cypress, now sixteen years of age, if not for the odd situation regarding class 108, I believe he would’ve found himself within my domain, traveling slowly and unremittingly along the length of the stretching Corpse Routes.

And to his delight, eventually ending.

The earliest he can remember being certain he was about to die was when, at the age of six, due to allergies, he passed out. It was from a spider bite. Not a poisonous one, mind you. It was just his allergies, putting him in the hospital for a few hours.

The oddest thing though, was that he didn’t mind. Cypress had already accepted the inevitability of death, with his father passing away from cancer about two years prior to the bite. He found it reassuring, relaxing even.

The point was, Cypress was comforted by death.

And so it continued for the next three years of his life. He would die on the weekends, crave the release of not existing as a reward for doing so during the week. He always came back, groggily and painfully.

He never liked that part.

Five: Coroner’s concerns.

The matters of concern are as follows:

a) Cypress Evans was affected by the Web at some point during his life. I do not know what the reason for that is, but it’s a concern nonetheless. I do not know why Cypress does not walk the corpse roots, just as I do not know why class 108 seems to have been spared from the domains. I, again, suspect the Web to have something to do with this.

b) This place is a limit on the fear that can be generated from them, as their pool is necessarily finite and ultimately, however slowly, it will be exhausted.

To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting…bad feeling between those domains.

c) A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time, and - one for which I have no further explanation, means that I do not believe new humans are being created or born.

The souls trapped within this transformed world are the only ones who will ever be here, and the presence of the Termination of All requires that-ultimately, that is what will happen.

However slowly, the domains of death will be removing sufferers from a closed system. However many thousands of years may be experienced in time, eventually this world will be left barren and empty.

d) When this happens, the Great Powers themselves will also fade and die, withering away into nothingness and releasing this reality from their grip.

I… do not know how I feel about this.

Six: Actions that should be taken.

None. Even if such a fate could be avoided, as it comes closer and the other Entities grow in their awareness of their own end, the grotesque ripples of their own impossible panic shall glut and feed my master, gorging it to the point where-perhaps it will even surpass the Watcher in prominence.

Barring that, I have no desire to be destroyed by other Avatars who are upset at what they regard as “stealing” human souls to walk the Corpse Routes. If it becomes necessary to intervene at some point regarding whatever web the weaver is puppeting, I will do so.

The others may take what actions they wish; they may plot and plan and tear themselves apart in an attempt to separate from the fate that they know they cannot escape, but they will fail. The currents of perception and reality may twist in whatever shapes they want, but none of them can ever render things truly eternal.

And I shall help, ushering on this final, blank emptiness. Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.

But I am too much of my Patron now, and my feelings cannot help but reflect the shadows of… anticipation that lurk within the grave. The End does not fear its own cessation, for it is the certainty and promise of all life, however strange, that it will one day finish, and that includes its own stark existence.

It shall be the last, and when the universe is silent and still forever, it shall, perhaps, in that impossible moment before it vanishes, finally be satisfied.

Seven: Your response.

Please, Jon, do not interpret this report as a plea for mercy or a call to action. I would have offered it willingly, of course, but to do so is no longer an option.

I only ask that you be wary. I do not know what, but I believe the Web is up to something. Bar that, I believe it to be controlling even you in a world where you wear the crown.

Finally, Cypress, know this. All things end, and every step you take, whatever direction you may choose, only brings you closer to it.

I’m sure that brings you comfort.

Report ends.

Jon looked up, eyes widening as he regained control.

Cypress bolted.

-

“What the fuck happened?” Riko asked, sitting down across from Tabitha, gesturing to Cypress, who was in a clearing alone. Cal was sitting next to him but they didn’t appear to be talking.

Tabitha shook her head mutely, sighing. “It’s-I’m not going to intrude on his privacy. It was just-it was just intense.” She gestured.

Riko shrugged. “He isn’t dead. It’ll be fine.”

Tabitha knew that Riko was trying to comfort her, but those words made her bark out a bitter laugh.

Riko raised an eyebrow.

Tabitha sighed. “Look, basically the statement Mr. Sims gave was about Cypress, and for some reason Cypress and I couldn’t leave.”

“Wait, like you were tied down?” Riko asked incredulously.

“No, like…ugh. I don’t know how to put it. Yes, like we were tied down, but it was…more than that.”

“Oh, that’s revealing.” Riko said sarcastically.

“Hm.” Tabitha agreed, before looking behind her to see Jon approaching. He walked up the green hill before sighing, and running his hand through his hair.

He does that a lot, Tabitha thought absently.

“May I speak to you in private?” Jon asked Tabitha, who nodded. Riko didn’t budge, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was here first.”

Tabitha snickered. “Fair.”

Jon followed her until they came to a spot next to a tree, leaves waxy and tinted with the green light of the sky.

“So,” Jon awkwardly began, “I think it would be best if you didn’t discuss Cypress’…condition with anyone else. I know you wouldn’t,” he added, “I just wanted to make sure.”

Tabitha nodded. “No, totally, I get it.”

Jon nodded gratefully. “Do you think he’d benefit from talking to Martin or I?”

Tabitha tilted her head in thought. “Not really. He seems like the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, but…I don’t think he likes to be vulnerable with people. Cal seems to have it covered already though.” She pointed across the clearing to where Cal and Cypress were silently sitting side by side against the trunk of a thick hickory tree.

God, she hoped it was a hickory tree. While watching her friends get chased around by a living tree-monster thing was funny, it was also terrifying.

“That checks out. Well, that’s all I wanted to speak with you about.” His eyes seemed to glaze over familiarly, though Tabitha couldn’t quite place where she’d seen that look.

Tabitha nodded warily as he got up and walked towards Martin, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

-