#please. try to be kinder try to be more patient even when its frustrating

[crabussy]

IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING KIND TODAY!!! IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING GENEROUS TOWARDS OTHER PEOPLE!!! IS ANYBODY ELSE BEING KIND AND TRYING TO UNDERSTAND EVEN WHEN ITS HARD!!! IS ANYONE ELSE ASSUMING THE BEST OF OTHERS INTENTIONS AND RESPONDING IN KIND!!!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME

[loguetowns]

(love)sick (law + touch)

trafalgar law x reader

law's in denial but you're here for him anyway

part of my 5 senses collection

0.9k words

a/n: help i rambled and wrote a whole lot of uneventful, wordy fluff again oops

"how do you, the infamous surgeon of death," —you wring the wet cloth forcefully— "not have any flu medicine on board?"

before law can answer, a chorus of explanations comes from just outside his bedroom door.

"because he thinks flus are for the weak!"

"because he's too busy trying to cure cancer!"

"because he wants you to take care of him!"

at penguin's cheeky answer, law's cheeks go pink. lucky for him, you barely notice with how flushed his face already is. from his bed, law scowls at his (treacherous) crewmates.

"can you guys shut up?" he yells — or at least, he tries. it comes out as more of a hoarse whisper, and you frown.

you shoo bepo, penguin and shachi away, "let your dumb captain get some rest." they give you knowing looks and gleeful grins, and you relent with a smile before closing the door.

as you walk back towards your sick patient's bed, he tries to sit up. "there's no medicine because we ran out of the ingredients and no one really catches the flu anymore."

"and yet," you raise an eyebrow. "somehow, you have it."

"okay, in my defense, what happened was-"

only law doesn't get to tell you what happened because he gets hit with a sudden coughing fit, and you push him back into bed before he hacks up a lung.

"fine," you tsk. "if it'll get you to stop talking, let's say you're not sick. but i'm still going to take care of you so could you please just lie down?"

law hears the finality in your question that's not really a question. he resigns to your care, even though he doesn't really want to.

the truth is, he knows that he's sick. that much is obvious. it's just that he'd rather try to take care of himself than risk making a fool of himself in front of his crush.

which he hopes isn't obvious.

but it's hard to hide.

it's hard not to make his staring too obvious because this is the first time that you two have spent this much time together. it's hard pretending that you don't smell really good, that your eyelashes flutter when you blink, that your lips look very soft from up close. it's hard for him to not be wildly aware of the fact that this is the first time you two have been alone at all, or that it's the first time you've been in his room.

with all these firsts, it's no wonder his heart is beating so fast (or, he supposes, it could also be the debilitating fever).

you lie the washcloth across his forehead and instantly, he sighs in relief. compared to his fever, it feels much colder than it probably is, but it's a welcome change in temperature - soothing, comforting.

"better?" you ask, a little kinder and a little less critical.

"yeah," he says with his eyes still closed. and as an afterthought, he mumbles, "thanks."

he can hear the grin in your voice when you reply, "you're welcome."

you sit on the edge of his bed, patting his face with another cloth. unbeknownst to law, he's not the only one that's aware of the line you've crossed today.

you're fully aware that you've never sat in silence for this long with him. usually, he's at odds with you, stubbornly refusing your help or insisting that he's just fine on his own. talking with him involves rolling eyes and frustrated sighs, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

pigheaded at its worst but strong-willed at its best; it's this conviction of his that made you realize he's more than just a (very, very) pretty face. law's fearsome and fearless in his own way, confident and smarter than most men you've met. something about him makes you want to stick around.

maybe it's the way that he meticulously plans every move, or the detail he puts into taking care of everyone around him. it could be how every new thing you learn about him leaves you wanting more. before you knew it, you found yourself curious to see all the sides of trafalgar law.

like the side of him that's too proud to admit that he's sick, that hovers somewhere between sleep and consciousness as you wipe away his sweat — a side of him that's endearing and vulnerable that only you get to see.

you press your palm to the side of his face; thankfully, his temperature is starting to go down.

"feels good..." he murmurs. "your hands are soft."

it's a shame that law still has his eyes closed otherwise he'd catch the most adorably embarrassed look on your face. instead, he sinks deeper into the warmth that comes from being taken care of and starts drifting off.

you run your hands through his hair, watching him with gentle eyes that he won't get a chance to see. your caress lulls him, fingertips kissing him as sleep pulls him deeper and deeper.

maybe when he wakes up, he'll have the energy to properly thank you. maybe when he's fully recovered, he'll tell you how much it meant to him that you combed through his hair the way his mom used to.

maybe when he decides the time is right, he'll tell you how he feels about you and you'll tell him you feel the same way.

until then, you keep watch over him and whisper unto a sleeping trafalgar law,

"get well soon."

[http-mingi]

room 657. ⤑ jjk + kth ☏︎

⟶ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : you didn't even realise you were calling a hotline. you're best friend jimin gave you a random number. he said it was a surprise ? well you're in for one.

♡︎ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 : sexhotline!au, worker!taehyung, worker!jungkook, student!reader

♡︎ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 : ∝ filthy smut if you squint there’s fluff

♡︎ : 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 : sorry i fr forgot to do the word count !!

⟶ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : stressed reader, soft!dom jungkook, harddom!tae , big cock!tae, bigcock!jungkook, size kink??, sub!reader, pussy eating, dirty talk, face riding, hair pulling, fingering, cum eating, praise kinda?? unprotected sex, roughsex, multiple orgasms, heavy heavy dom sub themes, brat!reader , dom/sub themes, pet names, daddy!kink, threesome, dirty talk, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, begging, humiliation, creampie, intense orgasms(?), multiple orgasms, cum eating, insecurities, derogatory language, sexual face-slapping, punishments, dumbification, overstimulation, basically pwp.

let's go!

you sighed heavily as your boots clicked along the laminated floor of your university.

today so far had been a hassle. traffic kept you 2 hours late from school you were earlier fired from your job. your ex boyfriend had recently been stalking you and to top it off there was no hot water this morning.

you were beyond stressed.

most of the time you could deal with it you had thousands of stress relieving techniques. but this time you were all types of frustrated, with school, your job, sexually, friendships, family. you sighed heavily as you dragged yourself inside your classroom.

the bright walls of your university aided in your pounding headache. the distinct smell of coffee and muffins flooded your nose as you blinked slowly.

the tall dark bookcases shielding you from the sunlight as you sluggishly made your way to your seat.

you slumped down on your chair as you massaged your temples in effort to calm your self down. your headache clouded your vision immensely you hastily downed your water and some paracetamol nursing your forehead throughout.

you hadn’t been out on a real date in months. it seemed like the universe didn’t want you on dates, you rarely ever found yourself being okay with that fact.

whilst in a trance your best friend jimin walked excitedly into the classroom.

he constantly and i mean constantly reminded you off the things you were missing out on but it wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out but the issue was you were way too busy.

being an english, law and history major meant that you were constantly studying literally.

you did love him though he always tried for you.

"_____ !! " your friend jimin called out to you. you grumbled in annoyance as you turned your neck towards him.

"what." you sighed out tiredly.

" what the- what's wrong with you ______ ?!" he exclaimed loudly.

" jimin... why are you so loud. " you whine loudly.

“ shut up ___ im literally your only friend.” he said nonchalantly.

“ stopppp!” you whined with a breathy giggle.

“ anyways what are you doing here you have biology?” you asked innocently wiping your exhausted eyes.

“ uhhh... well..”

“ spit it outtt.” you say , head tilting slightly.

" sorry _____ i just- i have a number to give you and i don't call it until you get home! trust me you'll thank me later!!”

0800-765-877

it looked like a legit number so you decided to trust him this one time.

"come on ____ class ended 20 minutes ago wake up." he whined loudly.

" what.....? " you yawned as you groggily wiped your eyes.

jimin let out an exasperated sigh as he dragged you out of class and to your apartment.

" i love you but sometimes i feel like stabbing you. " he says plainly.

" sorry chim, ive just been really stressed lately. i'll make it up to you i promise."

"you can make it up to me by calling that number, it'll solve all your problems i promise."

" jimin... did you connect me to a sugar daddy or something? " you asked as you flopped down onto your sofa

" something like that." he said grinning

" okay well you can go home now . " you muttered yawning

" promise me you'll call them? "

" okay, okay now you can go. "

as jimin left you groaned into your pillow did you have to call them it wasn't really gonna change anything. but at the same time jimin would do the same for you.

your home was simple, minimalistic but you loved it your soft grey sofa in the corner. your small tv playing comfort noise in the background.

you fought your tiredness to finish your essay due for next week. you ached in places you didn't even know you had the most you were aching was down there.

you hadn't had any sexual action in weeks even months.

you decided to go up to your room to try and relive yourself.

you sighed as your hands hovered over the pulsating area.

as a finger trailed it's way up your slit you involuntarily whined as you got tired of the foreplay you plunged a finger inside your soppy cunt.

your plush walls also fighting to relish your much needed orgasm as you groaned into your pillow.

you moaned, whined, groaned and breathed heavily as you desperately tried to reach your high.

you angrily quickened your pace. you were trying so hard yet you still weren't feeling anything.

in a huff you decided to stop trying to reach your endless high.

in the corner of your eye you saw the number jimin had left you.

it wouldn't hurt to call right?

it wasn't gonna be anything weird..... right ?

you took a small breathe as your fingered trembled attempting to type in the numbers.

1 ring

2 rings

3 rings

......

" h-hello? " you whispered out meekly

" hey honey, why don't you speak up for us?" the man on the other end spoke in a deep voice

" im sorry i- i don't know what this- is r-really for?" you spoke slightly louder as you stumbled over your words

"it's a sexhotline darling? "

" i- i well oh...” you huffed out , eyes widening softly you were lost in a trance of thought.

you were suddenly put on hold.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you gave yourself time to think.

it wouldn’t hurt right?

you were basically an adult, you felt like a teenage girl again.

so you decided.

Putting a client on hold was a part of their fun. It allows the person to wait and to draw out the anticipation. however in this case you were just confused.

you’ve been pacing back and forth inside your bedroom for minutes it was half eleven in the night , and you certainly didn’t think that your attention would be on this instead of your essay.

suddenly you heard another 'hello' erupt from the phone quickly you grabbed your device breathing heavily you gulped and mustered up your voice.

" h- hi i just want you to know that y-you can carry on I've been- struggling and i- need some just some help?" you say whispering the last part.

" you want us to help you cum bun? " another voice said this time it was lighter, kinder in a way.

“don’t make us talk to ourselves, darling.” the other man snarls.

a gasp emits from your dry lips when the tone of his voice turns firm. there was a strict, domineering tinge in his speech that made you sit still. you were too shocked to reply as your mind tried to comprehend the situation that you got yourself into.

“I-I…” you stuttered completely, wanting to smack yourself in the face. the pet names, their voices it was all over whelming you too much.

you let out a needy whine, both of the men groaned quietly into the phone.

" how old are you baby ? " baby. they called you baby.

" i-im 19? "

" fuck, will you be okay with this?" they ask to make sure

jungkook can’t help the soft growl escape his lips. It has been so rare for him to receive callers who aren’t twenty-five and above, and you might be his first time.

“Ohh, baby girl,” he bites his lip, “I think you’re the first client I’ve had who’s so young.” jungkook says to you

“ is that okay , i-im sorry- "

“Oh, its more than okay , baby. You still wanna continue? I can make you feel so…” he pauses, groaning quietly to himself, “so good.”

your pussy clenches around nothing as you felt yourself getting wetter by the second

"  yes daddy. " you say nodding to yourself. you suddenly froze as you realised the contents of your words

taehyung's eyes widen in shock, his mouth agape, certainly not expecting that sudden word to come out of your lips. He throws his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he feels his dick harden.

It was so difficult for him to hold himself back because all he wanted to do was to say the dirtiest, nastiest things that he wants to do to you in your ear. but he had to slow down.

“daddy? Oh, what makes you call me that, hm? baby?”

you feel your throat go dry, your eyes wide in shock. You didn’t know what to respond without being so shocked with yourself.

" i-i just really need you please please please i need it. " you let it all out, you couldn't be bothered to hide it anymore.

“don’t be a brat kitten.“ taehyung snarled into the phone.

“ b-but daddy! please i- i need it so so bad it’s not fair!“ you whined softly as your fingers ghosted your aching, soppy cunt.

they both groaned loudly, as jungkook conversed with taehyung

" kook, fuck i need to do her in real life she's making this so hard for me."

" same here let's just go for it here she's going to make me cum in my pants." he sighed as he palmed himself to your weak whimpers.

" darling, me and tae were wondering if you wanted to do this in real life- we'd fuck you so good honey, you'd become our little cum dump id love to see your body tremble to the force of my cock. " taehyung said interrupting jungkook.

" yes.. please you said as you moaned quietly to their words

" okay bun, we'll text you where to meet us." jungkook breathed out.

the atmosphere was dripping with heavy lust your eyes shut right as you relished their deep gutural voices.

“ i can’t cum daddy please help me cum pleas-“ you begged in frustration

“oh honey, it’s okay sh- sh it’s ok ill help you just be patient okay? you can do that for me right?” jungkook said in a calm tone

" what's your name by the way."

" it's ____." you say meekly

" ____ edge yourself, fuck yourself just do not cum. "

and with that in the call ended

you sighed loudly grinning slightly, you were gonna get your brains done out by two sexy sounding men.

you smiled to yourself giddily as you finally got some sleep.

________________

the next morning you got up and did your daily routine entirely different you waxed everywhere, shaved, exfoliated, moisturised, basically every strawberry flavoured you had in your bathroom.

it was a Saturday, you had time to spare you texted jimin to meet him before you went to meet 'kook' and the other guy.

not to mention you were frustrated beyond belief you had done what they asked you to do and you half hate half love them for it.

on one hand you could cum from any suggestive touch you were given.

on the other hand you couldn't help but want to thank them you felt so ready for them.

you walked to the cafe.

the soft brown walls encompanied the mahogany floors and the cascade of plants across the room as you happily walked into the bustling cafe.

" what's got you so excited." he said grinning like the Cheshire cat

" uh nothing i just had some good sleep last night. " a lie.

" oh really? "

" yeah i even finished my essay!" not true but not false at the same time.

" wow! " jimin looked at you shocked

" jimin do you really have that little faith in me. " you say annoyed

" to be honest no. " he said chuckling

" jiminnn, well i have to be going now i have an appointment soon. " you explain pouting

" an appointment where? "

" somewhere special ? " you say in attempt to hide

" if you say so. " he uttered playfully and he watches you walk away

you stared at the building in front of you as you checked the address again and again it was a massive condo.

you rang the bell of the apartment square and dialled in the number seconds later you were buzzed in.

you took the elevator and anxiously played with your fingers you finally reached the floor you were headed to and walked into room 657 .

" h-hello i-im here it's ______ " you say confused you really made a large mistake.

suddenly turning around, you were pulled into a sloppy kiss. You immediately relaxed into it, wrapping your arms around his neck the deeper it went. Before it could go on too long, he pulled away.

Pressed between both of their bodies, you could help the way your body reacted. Your lips met Taehyung's again and you whimpered.

Jungkook took the opportunity to press his lips against your neck, skimming them over the collar now around your neck.

He hands gripped your waist, pulling your shirt up ever so slightly to touch the skin that became exposed.

Goosebumps across your skin and you gasped into Taehyung's mouth. The elder chuckled, reaching down to where Jungkook's deft fingers explored to tug up the hem of your shirt.

you gasped loudly as you tensed under their touch.

Already, you could feel your mind turning fuzzy, falling into your submissive roll to let them mold you how they wanted.

Jungkook chuckled as you lifted your arms, allowing Taehyung to pull your shirt off. Left in your bra, you couldn't help but cover your chest as vulnerability set in.

"None of that, bun," Jungkook growled softly, ripping your arms away from your chest. "You wanna be a good girl for us right? Let us take care of you?"

"Y-Yes..." You whined, whining when Taehyung leaned down pressing kisses against your chest above the seam of your bra. Gasping, you pushed your chest out to get more of the feeling.

"What a good girl," Taehyung cooed, falling to his knees in front of you.

You leaned back, using Jungkook as support to help Taehyung pull your jeans off completely. He tossed them away in a heap nearby and without wasting a second, his mouth was on your core.

The fabric of your panties put on the side, feeling his mouth on you fully but as he slid his tongue over your slit and caught your clit, you let out a soft moan.

"What a good kitten for us," Jungkook groaned, hands still cupping your breasts. He pinched your nipples, making your back arch as you cried out.

“Is that pretty pussy wet, Princess? Does your cunt ache to be filled by my cock?” jungkook coaxes

The filth of his words doesn’t surprise you, Under his teasing words, you feel yourself grow wet, your lust-filled desire mingling with the humiliation that flutters through you.

"Aw, your pussy that sensitive, baby?" Taehyung cooed pressing his middle finger to glide directly over the patch where your clit was, making your hips curve inwards as the intensity was blare enough to startle you.

He chuckled deeply at that, kind of sounding like a purr and just when you didn't think he could fuck with your sanity anymore than he was already doing, he turned his head to the side and lapped his wet muscle along your jugular vein before enclosing his lips area the area for harsh suck.

you moaned loudly as you arched your back against jungkook. taehyung put one leg over his shoulder to go deeper.

"Daddy!" You cried as his tongue slid through your folds. He moaned at the unimpeded taste of your cunt. Circling your entrance, he eagerly tasted everything you had to offer.

" don't take it all tae, shit she looks hot." jungkook groaned into your neck, biting licking and sucking against your sweet spot.

you whined as you trembled against the two men. you felt hot.

"Fuck!" You shrieked, spasming when he gave you a slap against your sodden folds . " I—!"

" be careful girl." jungkook growled into your ear

you moaned apologies left right and centre as he continued to abuse your aching clit.

suddenly you were harshly pulled away from taehyung's hot wet muscle and pushed into the soft plush bed.

you whined in protest at your denied orgasm.

" now, you're going to choose. me or tae." jungkook questioned sadistically

" i...i can't choose that i okay um jungkook?" you said in a small voice.

" good decision honey, now lie back let me take care of you." he cooed kindly

taehyung scoffed as he sat back

you were more than happy like this, but when you shifted your hips to grind your centre against his, you both groaned open-mouthed into the kiss.

You could feel that he was already hard in his boxers. Knowing that his willing cock was so close to your needy core erased your mind of any thoughts that weren't of him.

When you dragged your clit against him again you keened, the pleasure incredible despite the barriers between you.

he felt so big as you continued your actions

suddenly you felt his large and literally massive cock push into your plush soppy cunt.

you moaned loudly as jungkook groaned.

taehyung smirked as he shook his head.

" get moving i wanna see her squirt."

jungkook rocked back and forth at a steady pace it was amazing don't get me wrong but you wanted more you needed more.

"more! more please harder jungkook please! " you begged.

" princess, don't beg for things you can't keep up with." he chuckled

there was an animalistic gaze in his eye as he started plunging into your pussy, taehyung mouth open jerking himself off at the sight, your open lie open as he ground his fat cock into you.

you felt hot and euphoric and couldn't help but let moans continuously fall out of your mouth.

suddenly you felt a harsh slap on your face. you felt tears well up in your eyes.

Without warning, his cock was rammed inside you. Raw and hard with the way your pussy was soaking wet from your denied orgasm , he began to relentlessly fuck into you.

tears began spilling out of your eyes continuously and your moans became pornographic.

as if he couldn't go any faster he began to drill inside you, your body shook in ecstasy as his fat cock was pistoned into you.

you felt your high approaching, you panicked and begged for them to let you come.

" please! please let me cum ! ill be good , ill be a good girl ! " you cried out towards them

jungkook craned himself to be face to face with you, as he stared at you with his dark and lustful. his wet lips capture yours into a sloppy kiss .

he forced your mouth open and let his tongue glide upon yours. he sucked on the wet muscle softly as you cried out.

everything felt so good, too good.

you came 3 times alone with jungkook and felt overstimulated beyond belief.

" now it's my turn . " taehyung dead panned

" w-what i can't take anymore ill just su- "

" i said. it's my turn. " he uttered in a harsh tone

you wailed in frustration as your body writhed in defeat .

" you're gonna take it . that's what you asked for . " he spat at you.

observing the way your eyes darken, turning neediness, and the way your chest heaves in short breaths, Taehyung’s jaw flexes.

He pressed the tip against your hole, seeing you tense up almost immediately. taehyung rubbed the end of his cock along your wet cunt before sinking himself into you.

" d-daddy ple- ! " you body spasmed against the head board as taehyung suddenly slammed his body into you continuously.

“ you’re such an eager little whore, aren’t you?” he purrs, condescension laced in his tone.

you tightly held onto the relentless man as you felt your high approaching once more.

taehyung’s thrusts became sloppy as he grunted against your neck.

you felt your body swirl and turn around you and you finally came.

hours later

you groggily woke up as you felt your body give out into the bed.

“ hel- hello? ” you said wearily

“ hi princess.” taehyung smirked

“ round 5?” jungkook asked

you sighed as you submitted to them in their bed

here we go again.

5 missed calls from jimin

[autumnslance]

This is @onyrica‘s fault, as there was discussion of Emet-Selch in her Discord the other day and this old idea I’ve had kicking around got sparked awake. Takes place sometime during Shadowbringers 5.0, a little moody Emet-Selch for you all. Under the cut for those who prefer Tumblr.

The Scions were off on more of their foolish adventures in a land still smothered by Light, and so Emet-Selch meandered around the Crystarium, bored. He had already quit the Ocular on an appropriately dramatic note, though in retrospect should have perhaps drawn out the conversation longer if this was to be the result.

He would learn the Crystal Exarch’s secrets yet; he needed but a little more time to unwind the wards the stripling wizard had placed upon himself and the Tower.

It was his Tower, the same one Emet-Selch had centuries ago overseen the construction of in the Source, though how and why it and its keeper were here on the First now…

“Back foul beast!” A reedy voice caught Emet-Selch’s attention, alongside the claps and cheers of a small crowd. He paused his ambling to glance idly toward the sounds.

Lost in thought, he had wandered near the schoolyard. It was currently set up with rows of benches and chairs in a wide half circle before a low temporary stage. Several of the smaller children gamboled upon it, their classmates and teachers fluttering behind flimsy sheet backdrops to the sides and rear.

The adults had sewn and braided cloth and soft leather into simple costumes, built padded weapons and other props and set pieces with wood, bone, stone, and metal, perhaps a little plaster here and there; scraps insufficient for use by the artisans of the Crystalline Mean, saved from going to waste in this manner. The backdrop had the lines of scenery sewn in, but like the props and other lightweight stage furnishings, the young actors had obviously painted it themselves. The results were sloppy, eye-searing combinations of bright hues that nevertheless lent further charm to the stilted, clumsy production on exhibition.

Ah yes; it was a popular fairy tale rendition of an earlier Minfilia’s tale, depicted by students for the patient amusement of their parents. He wanted to sigh and laugh at the ironic frustration of how the story was stripped of the actual woman’s desperate actions to preserve a fragment of this world, making it possible for his own plans to complete its Rejoining to the Source, furthering the goals of himself and his brothers.

And yet…

“Hades, come see what Hythlodaeus has made for our play!”

“Did you create this concept yourself?”

“I did! It’s still a little rough, though. I was hoping you would have an idea on how to improve it.”

“Hmm. I just might, although…”

“Will it get us in trouble with the Matron?”

“Possibly; not that that’s ever stopped you, my friend. Nor Hythlodaeus from encouraging you.”

“Haha, no need to tease! You’re as eager as we are, besides. Come, let’s hear your idea for my concept, and put on a play our elders shall remember years from now.”

Emet-Selch caught himself smiling as the small child playing Minfilia expressed glee at “defeating” a slightly bigger classmate in the role of a sin eater. The little thing was so excited and overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience that a teacher had to prompt the next lines. He clapped along as yet another child playing the former Eulmoran General came to take Minfilia onto destiny—and death, but nevermind that; the schoolyard play ended on a cheerful note, the class lining up unevenly to take their shy, awkward bows as their friends and families cheered.

“Bravo,” Emet-Selch called as well, noticed by only a few of the participants, just another adult in the crowd.

It was a ridiculous, crude little affair. Nothing like his hazy piecemeal memories of his own long ago youth, let alone the demonstrations of Amaurot’s students in later years when he served on the Convocation, their nascent concepts hints of their later talents, nurtured by the elders who guided their course.

Yet a small part of him found something charming in the clumsy little production, the attempt at bringing to life a story with script and props and the energy of children.

A paltry display, a larger part of him hissed. Nothing like what they could, should be capable of if they were whole.

Still; he was ever interested in the mortal need to create, to strive for more than their clumsy hands and stunted imaginations could conjure. That they sought to reach the heights of their forgotten ancestors, yearning to bring to existence that which they only saw within their minds’ eyes.

It was all the proof he needed that he held to the correct course. That they wanted to be Rejoined, wanted to create instantly with a simple thought that which took their crude methods time to draw in only rough approximations.

“I have been looking forward to this showing for moons, Hythlodeaus. Your pestering about the Convocation’s latest decisions shall not distract me.”

“I wanted a bit of gossip, not the politics, though I suppose they could be one and the same—don’t frown at me like that.”

“I shall frown all I wish, though you should hope the play changes my mood.”

“Hehe; we both know it shall, you have ever been a fan of such stories. Or is it the flair of how the stories are told?”

“Perhaps a bit of both. There’s a magic to theater that is wholly different from mine own.”

“Tis a shame our friend has left again, and shan’t return for quite some time, rather than accompanying us.”

“Yes, but we all have our roles to fill.”

“Didja like our play, mister?” One of the little urchins was at his feet, looking up at Emet-Selch with a gap-toothed grin, still in slapdash costume.

He stared down for a long moment, then allowed a small smile, playing the part of indulgent grandfatherly figure. “I have ever been a fan of the theater,” he told the child. “A finer production I’ve not seen in this world.”

Not even a lie; he had not yet had the chance even while in Eulmore.

The child squealed in delight, spitting out a quick “Thank you!” before responding to a parent’s call.

Emet-Selch watched the child dash off, trying to ignore the old, hollow ache in his chest and the brief spark of warmth the interaction nearly kindled within it.

The child was inconsequential; he could have snuffed out the tiny half-life with a snap of his fingers and it would not matter a whit to the universe—in truth it would even be far kinder than the inevitable destruction of Rejoining.

But perhaps the children would put on another of their clumsy little plays before that happened. Another small proof of man’s eternal striving to reach for the heights they once knew when whole, and would know again once he had his way.

“I swear, with your penchant for theatrics, you should have become a playwright, or an actor, Emet-Selch.”

“I may someday, dear Azem, when your own antics force me into retirement for my sanity’s sake. Now please, aid me in resolving this matter lest Loghrif truly does murder me at our next meeting...”

The echo of his old friend’s laugh rang in his ears, annoyingly tinged in the current reincarnation’s voice, as he ambled away from the schoolyard.

He found himself pausing to look back at the bright little stage and realized he was still smiling.

Emet-Selch shook his head. A momentary lapse; how annoying.

The stage was set, his script was written; the actors had but to find their marks, their actions against the Lightwardens unwittingly hurtling them ever closer to the final curtain call.

Then they would understand, and would remember the dazzling spectacle, the possibility of true creation.

In the meantime, these too brief, imperfect reminders would have to do, as he had told himself countless times before in his centuries among these fragmented worlds.

[notfivefives]

Clonetober 2021, Day 3 & Whumptober 2021, No. 16

Prompts: 

Day 3- Inhibitor Chip Removal for @clonetober

No. 16- On a Need to Know Basis: Recovery | Scars | Aftermath for             @whumptober2021

Title: Stable

Content Warnings: None 

Word Count: 2,209

Characters: Gregor & Wolffe

Summary: Gregor has misgivings about looking after Wolffe after the Commander’s inhibitor chip is removed. 

Read here, or on AO3

The excision of Wolffe’s chip had been conditional on Rex’s agreement to leave with the medic - a Twi’Lek woman whose clientele base was mostly comprised of outlaws and anyone else who required discreet clinical services - on a job. It was non-negotiable, and though Gregor had vehemently made the argument that it would be better for Wolffe to wake up to a familiar face, Rex had sighed and given Gregor a small, resigned smile and told Gregor that his face was familiar.

Gregor had laughed even as he’d shot Rex a dirty look that said, You know what I meant.

And Rex had nodded. Because he did know. But that didn’t change their circumstances.

The medic, with a twitch of her violet lekku, had assured Gregor that her 2-1B medical droid - she’d won it from Cid - would be more than sufficient to help care for Wollfe.

And then they’d left them in the little place on the outskirts of Ord Mantell that was part dwelling, part infirmary.

Gregor’s teeth worried at his lower lip as he sat, watching the smooth rise and fall of Wolffe’s chest. It hadn’t been so long ago that Gregor had been on that same cot, an identical incision on his head.

“How is he?”

The med droid’s head swivelled to where Gregor sat in a threadbare chair. Its eyes, or the two sets of three yellow lights that represented each of them, regarded him.

“The patient is stable.”

Gregor couldn’t decide if its voice was condescending, or merely dispassionate, but its words were as succinct as they were unhelpful and Gregor felt annoyance and frustration welling within him. A more nuanced answer would require a more specific question and Gregor wasn’t sure how to ask.

How will he be? He wanted to say. But he knew the question would make even less sense to the droid than it did to him. Droids couldn’t see the future, they could only extrapolate based on data, and the data said “stable.”

Gregor let out a vexed huff, crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. To the credit of his seat, it was at least comfortable. That didn’t mean he didn’t resent sitting in it. Pacing the confines of the medic’s home and workspace, and leaning against a wall were, however, slightly less attractive options.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. His fingertips grazed the still-pink scar tissue on his right temple.

His own waking after his chip had been removed hadn’t been so slow. But his procedure had fallen under the “just in case” category. It had also been entirely voluntary. Who knew what complications could arise with Wolffe.

Going by the reports Rex and Gregor had read on Wolffe while they searched for him, Wolffe had, like his namesake, hunted and killed with the ruthless efficiency of a persistence predator. Did that begin with the flick of the Order 66 switch, and would it continue despite his chip’s removal?

“My readings indicate that the patient will soon return to consciousness.”

Gregor straightened.

Wolffe’s breathing wasn’t as deep as it had been, and Gregor could see a crease in his brow, and the beginnings of a frown on his lips. Wolffe’s eyes slid open and Gregor remained still.  From where he was sitting, Gregor could only see the pale, cybernetic one, but when Wolffe’s head turned in his direction he could see his mismatched gaze evolve from dull to questioning, and then to hostile.

Unsurprising, considering his last memory was likely of being taken down with stun rounds.

Wolffe’s frown became a sneer as he studied Gregor and Gregor rose, though he was unsure if it was to offer comfort or to take a defensive stance.

Wolffe rolled onto his side and Gregor lifted a hand to caution him against any sudden movements.

Too late.

The muscles in Wolffe’s face bunched and he closed his eyes. He reached a hand up to his temple and sucked in air through his teeth when he found the bandage-covered incision there.

“Wolffe…” Gregor said as he took several steps toward him. He stopped in his tracks when Wolffe’s eyes flashed open. There was hurt beneath the anger and mistrust. “I’m Gregor. You’re safe here.”

“What in hells did you do to me?” Wolffe rasped out the words, but they weren’t lacking in venom. The scar on the right side of his face added to the ferocity of his appearance, and even stripped of his armor and weapons, Wolffe looked battle-ready.

“Rex and I found you, and-”

“Found me?” Wolffe spat as he lifted himself and moved his legs over the side of the cot. Gregor could see Wolffe’s eyes go a little unfocused with the movement, but after he blinked again and moved his head from side to side, Wolffe rose on unsteady legs. “That’s a funny way of saying-”

“Please be calm,” the 2-1B unit said as it took several mechanical steps closer to Wolffe.

Wolffe divided his attention and his ire between the droid and Gregor.

“Does that ever help?” Gregor asked the droid, without taking his eyes off of Wolffe, who took a step toward the door.

“My master has programmed me to be proactive where potentially combative patients are concerned. If he does not regain his composure, I will be forced to administer medication to achieve that end.”

“Try it,” Wolffe said. He turned toward the droid and squared his shoulders, but took a sensible step away from it when he caught sight of the needle at the end of the droid’s left appendage.

“Hey, whoah, stop!” Gregor said when it looked as though the droid was going to oblige Wolffe. Part of Gregor admired the medic’s forethought, considering her line of work, but the other, more significant part of him was actively cursing her. “I’ll get pretty combative, too, if you go near him. What do you think your chances are of taking down two Republic clones?”

All three of them were still. Gregor didn’t know how, but the droid seemed to actually be calculating an answer to his question. For his part, Gregor tried to estimate how much worse he’d just made the situation. He’d been in higher stakes impasses, to be sure, but this one seemed more delicate.

“Not optimal,” the droid admitted, at last, as it lowered its arms.

“That’s what I thought,” Gregor said as he let out a breath and looked at Wolffe to see if he’d garnered any favor.

Or that he hadn’t provoked an attack.

Wolffe eyed him. The wariness and anger were there, but beneath them was an unmistakable weariness. It was the same tiredness Gregor saw in Rex every day. The same kind he knew he’d see if he looked in a mirror. He felt morbid laughter bubbling up when he thought that they were all reflections of one another and that he didn’t need the benefit of a mirror. He kept it at bay, though, and he and Wolffe stood in silence.

Wolffe rested the small of his back against the cot and swallowed. Gregor thought to offer him some water, but Wolffe spoke before he could.

“Rex is dead, and so is the Republic.”

“Well, the Republic is,” Gregor conceded with an upward tilt of the lip, “But Rex is alive.”

Wolffe shook his head again, but this time he broke eye contact. Gregor wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the Commander. Relief? Disbelief?

“Then he’s a traitor,” Wolffe said, his voice a hoarse, uncertain whisper. “And so are you. You’re in violation of...I should...I should…”

“The patient is distressed,” the med droid reported.

“He’s allowed to be,” Gregor snapped. He sounded more petulant than he would have cared to, but the droid fell silent again, so it was entirely worth it.

Wolffe’s shoulders slumped and he crossed his arms over his stomach as he took his weight off the bed again. Gregor took a half step forward and decided to gamble.

“Is that what you want?” he asked. He kept his tone as conversational as he could, as though it made no difference to him if he found himself in another cell, awaiting stars knew what fate. “To turn us in to the Empire?”

Wolffe was silent for a long while. He wrapped his arms tighter around his middle and bowed his head. His gaze was dark and distant. Gregor wondered what realizations were filtering in, what memories. Memories - or what Gregor thought were memories - came rattling back in his dreams, or resurfaced in flashes with scents  or sensations. For Wolffe’s sake, Gregor hoped the memories were kinder, but he doubted they were.

“I...I don’t…” Wolffe trailed off.

Gregor hadn’t expected Wolffe’s shoulders to start shaking, or his breath to start hitching.

But they did. Oh, they did.

“What did I do?” Wolffe asked. “What did I-”

His words broke off in a ragged sob.

“It’s okay,” Gregor offered.

Wolffe shook his head and screwed his eyes shut. A tear glinted down his cheek and Gregor hazarded another step closer, though he had no idea what exactly he was doing.

“The General,” Wolffe said, his voice thick. “When I read the report, all I could think was ‘Good. Good the traitor’s dead,’ and I was...I was…”

Wolffe’s knees buckled and he dropped. Hard.

Gregor nearly tried to catch him, nearly tried to break the fall that had probably been inevitable. But what could he do, really? He considered walking out and closing the door behind him. Not to assuage his own discomfort, or because he didn’t care, but because it seemed wrong to see Wolffe like this, suffocating on the emotions the chip had kept at bay. The chip he and Rex had had removed.

Something unpleasant lanced its way into Gregor’s gut. Could they have afforded to give Wolffe a choice?

No, Gregor thought as he shoved the guilt down. With the chip, Wolffe didn’t have a choice. Now he did.

The heels of Wolffe’s hands were on the floor and his nails were digging into it as though he could scrape some semblance of reason from the tatty carpet beneath him.

Gregor wished his practical knowledge of weapons and infiltration would do him and Wolffe any good. He wished he could spare Wolffe the pain. Most of all, Gregor wished Rex were there.

But Gregor did what he’d never been trained to do, what the Kaminoans hadn’t deemed necessary for their creations to learn.

He knelt down beside Wolffe and put a hand on one of his shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. The words felt ridiculous coming from his mouth, but his conviction was genuine. “It is.”

“No,” Wolffe croaked.

“Ssh,” Gregor shushed, wondering if Wolffe even heard him. He rubbed Wolffe’s shoulder and down his back. The feel of the quaking muscle beneath his palm hurt Gregor’s heart. He couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through Wolffe’s head. Gregor felt a deep, heated hatred for the Empire and the Kaminoans begin to constrict his chest. He couldn’t recall feeling it so intensely before. But Kamino was gone now  and they were still here. Used, then cast aside. “Shshshsh.”

“Please listen, Wolffe,” Gregor said. “There was nothing you could have done. You couldn’t help it. There was a chip in your head, in all of our heads, but it’s gone now. We got it out.”

“Y-you don’t u-understand what I d-di-id.”

“Hey, hey,” Gregor said as he shifted so he was directly in front of Wolffe. He was grateful Wolffe remained pliant enough that he could draw him into a hug. “You couldn’t help it, Wolffe.”

“No,” Wolffe said again. “Nononono.”

Wolffe chanted that single, miserable note into Gregor’s shoulder until it devolved into a wild sound that pitched and cracked and went on and on until Gregor thought Wolffe’s lungs would give out.

“I know, Wolffe. I know. I’m so sorry,” Gregor said as he put a calloused, uncertain hand on the back of Wolffe’s head and hugged him closer.

Wolffe’s arms remained slack at his sides as he choked and wept, and Gregor held him.

The sobs wracking Wolffe’s body lessened in intensity.

Eventually.

Wolffe’s chest rested heavily against Gregor’s, and he could feel each hectic little sniffle and each groan that worked its way loose from Wolffe’s throat.

Gregor didn’t know if he was helping, or if Wolffe was simply exhausting himself. He rubbed warm, gentle circles between Wolffe’s shoulder blades. He didn’t know how long they sat like that, but he ignored the ache in his knees and the pins and needles in his feet.

Wolffe took in a slow, steady breath and tensed back ever so slightly. Gregor allowed him to list backwards, but he kept a steadying hand on his shoulder and the back of his neck. Wolffe still didn't look at Gregor, but Gregor could see how lost he looked, how hurt.

“Hey,” Gregor said. He was surprised how rough his own voice sounded. There was no response, but he leaned forward and touched his forehead to Wolffe’s. He couldn’t make any of this make sense, but he could try his best to anchor Wolffe. “I’ve got you, Wolffe. I’ve got you.”

. 

[rosy-cheekx]

Heat Without Warmth, Light Without Sight

This fic is for the @tma-valentines-exchange and was written for @barnabasbennett (pretty sure, at least!) AO3 link is in the source! Based on the prompt: rewrite episode 159 to feature Tim and Archivist!Sasha.

I’ve been waiting SO LONG to post this! I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One: Embers

The archives are quiet. So quiet. Sasha can hear the tick of the clock on her desk and the hum of the radiator she had brought in so many months ago, back when her biggest concern was how cold her Archivist office was. Before the idea of heat reminded her of Tim in oh-so-many painful ways.

The Unknowing had been…bad. Daisy had been imprisoned in The Choke, Sasha left unconscious and Basira forever changed. She had seen it, she told Sasha later, the way Tim had stood amidst the rubble of plastic mannequins and brick and mortar, unscathed as smoke billowed into the sky, silhouetted in greys and blacks. It was terrifying, she said, in a completely different way than the Unknowing had been. Basira described Tim as unstoppable in that moment, a train bulleting towards destruction and revenge, a rage in his eyes that only intensified when he saw the unconscious form of Sasha James, bruised and lying in the rubble.

In Sasha’s six-month coma, she had missed a lot. Martin had explained things to her; a sad compassion in his eyes as he stirred sugar into tea. Tim had fallen to the Desolation, The Cult of The Lightless Flame calling him home after they had heard about his sudden resilience to heat and flame. It made sense. Tim had experienced so much loss and destruction in his life, losing Danny and Jon (and, temporarily, Sasha) due to the machinations of The Stranger. His connection to the Desolation had probably been growing when none of them, not even Tim, had noticed. Sasha tried reaching out to him; Tim was still employed by the Magnus Institute after all, but he was sullen at his desk, the air around him smelling faintly of burnt hair and the iced coffees he used to love now simmering slightly in his mug. Sasha didn’t think he could’ve been any more withdrawn than he had been in the ramp up to stopping the Stranger. But here he was, prickly and cold and altogether uninterested in Sasha’s attempts to reconnect with him.

Sasha unfolds the letter, singed at the corners. She must have just missed him. Again. Her heart pounds in her chest as she reads the words, written the slanted, neat print she knew so well.

Sasha,

If nothing else, I will miss you. But that loss is essential, Jude says, to feeding the spark that binds us all. They think Agnes Montague’s spark passed to me when I decided my loss of life was more important than the survival of The Stranger and their ritual. Something about total commitment to pain, self-destruction, etc. There is some satisfaction in knowing how unhappy they are about it, especially Jude. I think she really wanted to be special. You’d hate her. Maybe it’s cliché, but I don’t think I’m coming back from this. It all began, and it all must end. Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally be able to quit.

I    You are truly unforgettable, boss,

Tim.

Sasha had seen so many of the people she loved fall to the fears of this world in which they find themselves trapped. The loss of Jon had come first, when the thing that Was Certainly Not Jon had stolen him away under their noses. This discovery had come with the loss of the heart of their office: Martin. Realizing he had been in love with a lie had broken something in him, and while Sasha did her best to show him compassion, she couldn’t imagine going through it all in his place. The nature of Gertrude’s death had shocked her; Sasha had known her, had seen such a strong woman she had been. To see (or rather hear) her death reduced to a few cowardly gunshots felt…inadequate. Daisy had become softer after surviving the Buried, kinder to Sasha, but there the Hunt was still there, deep in her. Basira and Melanie were fine, but evasive, suspicious, too eager to wield a knife. And now?

Sasha had no friends, no one she could truly trust, no one left besides Tim. She hadn’t stopped trying to care for him, to make herself available, but she refused to keep her heart open for someone so clearly eager to move away from it all, even if that was motivated by a cult of fire and destruction and pain. But that love she had for Timothy Stoker was still there, the idiot who took her out for drinks and dressed up as her once for April Fool’s and had them all over for Guy Fawkes Day (should she had guessed it then, his eyes illuminated by the pyre, drinking in the light and heat of the flames?) and insisted he cook for everyone whenever he got the chance.

Eyes sweeping over the letter over and over, she read the words, trying to hear each of them in his voice, feeling something in her gut twist as she read her name is his handwriting, in his voice, over and over. Tim had said it so many ways: with mirth, frustration, exhaustion, and warmth. There was still so much left to say. There were so many more ways for him to say her name, and Sasha wanted to hear them all.

This letter? This would not be the last time he said her name. Sasha James, the Archivist, would make damn sure of that.

-

Sasha is hurrying through the Institute when she almost collides with Elias Bouchard. His hair is unkempt, shaggy from his time in prison, but he is dressed immaculately, black dress shirt rolled to his elbows and a tie that seemed to shimmer yellow-green when it catches the light.

“You-Elias, what the hell?” Sasha takes an involuntary step back, hand ghosting to the letter opener she had instinctively tucked into her waistband.

“Save the effort, Archivist. I’m only here to help, after all. My sources say Tim has left?”

“Sources?” Sasha spits the word, fingers resting against the mottled blue handle of the blade. “Please. There’s no need to hide what you are anymore, Elias.”

“Hmm, very well.” His fingers drum patiently on his jaw, one elbow elegantly balanced on the opposite wrist. He looks too calm, too relaxed for the anxiety and anger thrumming its way through Sasha’s chest. “So, you don’t want to know where he’s gone?” Fuck. Elias’s eyebrow arches expectantly, eyes staring past her as he focused on what she could now recognize as what she called the Knowledge.

“Elias Bouchard, t̶̡̟̲͓̩̜̣͕͇̟̱͉̹̽̋̑̑̅̊͒́̔̂͠ͅe̶̝͍̜̲̘̙̤̰̬̞͒͗l̴̛͕̜̟̟̰͑̿̎̎́͛͌̽̆͆̓̋̾l̴̟̤͚͉͔̼̄̈́̆̌̏̇͝ ̷͖̙̠͕̜̮̬̟̝̰̫͍̆ṁ̶̨̗̮͍̖͍͖̱̟̍̽͜͝e̴̗̩͒̈́͛̊̽́̿ ̷̧̨̡̦̻̙͎̬̪̞͕͙͖̓͂͂͂͂̊̔̊̕̚͜w̴͈̖̦̒̾̀̽͑̓̑̎̂̇͗̂͒ḩ̸̩̺͎̤̳̰̘̱̣̍ę̵̫͚̖́̇͜r̷̢̘͍̣͚̠͚̫̦̭͌ͅͅͅẻ̵͓͖̆̀̒ ̵͇͕̱̬̻̖͔̲͇͇͊̓͊́̽̍̋̓̈́̎̿̆̕͘͝h̷̨̡̧̨̻̝̲̱̬̻͙̻͋́͒̈͆͛͛̒͂̉̈́̎͜e̴̡̪͓̘̳͇͙̪̠̳͈͔̳͕͗̓̉̎ ̵̢̡̟͍̬͖͔͎̹͇̞͗̓́́i̶̲̬̰͙̖̘̮̠̘̜̙̗̍̈́̀̌̔͌̊͋́̍͌̑̚͝s̶̞̱̥͚̽̔̏͠͝.”

Her voice echoes with persuasion, the smooth words rolling off her tongue before she could consider it. Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “He’s in the Desolation.” Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “Honestly, Sasha, I would have told you without you needing to ask like that.”

She tunes him out, her own Knowing searching for Tim and landing her only with a burning inside her skull. She hisses her pain through her teeth and focuses back on Elias, who seems almost amused.

God, what a bastard. “Ȟ̶̡̱͈̖̱̱̱̤̮̖̳̬̆̿͐͛̾́͗͠͝͝ͅͅo̷̡͎̙̓͗̋̂͊̏̏̅̚͘͝ẅ̶̢̨̧̝̖͚̦̱̟̹̼͕͌͌͌̋̒̆͑̈́̓͛͠ ̶̱̩̜̖̫̼̰̐d̴̢͈͍̗̱̀̉̽͋o̷̢̡̫͈̼̺̹̩̥͕͕͘̕ ̵̢̭̦͍̬͖̪̹͍̬̝͝I̶͕̥̱̤̽̿̃̃̂͐̔͒̒̇̆͗̚̕ ̴̛̞̜̘̥͓̙̗̫̰̙̼̝̀͗͋̊́̕ḡ̴͈͈̗̜̦̇͐̏̿̾̅́̆̎̂̊̕͠e̷̡̡̲̘̞̟̤̗͓̺̱̣̘͐̆̈́̔̎̃͋́ṯ̶̨̺̜̪̺̼̼̟̽̽̍̾̊́͊́̒̕͘ ̵̢͔̟͈̘͚̫̩̭͑̃͘ͅt̸̪̊͛̽̀͒h̴̘̫̖̤̜͕̻̺̯̼̦̟͔̋̍̋̈̌̃͐̈́̍̋e̶̢̛͚͉͕͓̪̖̘͖͇͇̫̲͉̐̀̈́̋̄̃̆̽̃̍͊̓ͅr̵̨͍͖̜͕͈̱̤̤̭͈̳̯̜͈̆͒̾̎̓̓̀̐̈̀̂̉̕͠e̴̦̱̺͓̝͕̥͔̮̓͐͛̚?̸̛̝̞̦͈̦̿͐͌̂̌̆͂̆̔̋͗͒̊”

“Honestly, Sasha, you’re wearing yourself out. Timothy and Jude just left. They were in the library; I’m sure you can follow them. Let your mind follow theirs. Find the right string, if the Mother will pardon my analogy, and pull it. I’m sure they left the door open for you.” He winks, as if enjoying a private joke, and turns on a polished leather shoe, striding towards the Archives with purpose.

Sasha redirects her course and hurries to the library. Is this a trap? Almost definitely. But honestly, she doesn’t care. Rosie, head of the institute while Elias had been “previously occupied," had been the last to leave the Institute, Sasha Knew as she ran, clocking out at 18:02. The librarians and assistants were gone. It was just her. Well, she and Elias, certainly. She was already a pawn in this fourteen-way game of chess; she may as well take down some bishops if this was going to be her end. She has never met Jude Perry, but Tim was right about one thing: she certainly already hated her.

-

In the library, Sasha halts in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her. The heat is excruciating on her cheeks as she sees a blazed trail of singed books, paper, and manuscripts. The burning in her face and soul is caused not by any fire, but by the sheer anger that someone dared mar her memories of this library, where she had met so many of the people she loves. Loved. No, loves, she decided with certainty. Jon is gone, the true memory of him lost to everything but the errant polaroid, Martin is all but gone, a shell of the warm man they had known, and Tim is just out of reach. But despite all this, maybe in sheer spite of everything they’ve been through, Sasha still present-tense loves each of them.

It is that love, she thinks, that guides her now, more so than the omniscient Eye that paves her way to the Desolation, the scar on reality widening and opening for her before it swallows her whole, the library crumbling into ash around her.

One way or another, she was going to end this.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Any tips for an aspiring social worker

+Be aware of any of your own trauma. Dont be one of the people who think they can do therapy AND get a degree at the same time. You will burn out, there are hundreds every year. Please dont be the person in lectures who takes yup 45 minutes crying over past trauma every session; you need to seek counselling for that from a professional who can help, not from your newbie classmates.

You may think its an exaggeration, but No. Unfortunately, no.

This ties in to your own biases, what you are likely to take to heart if the person fails, etc. You need to work with your supervisor around clients that may trigger something for you; or reconsider the role you are aiming for, etc.

+Have personal skills, you will be making and repairing relationships often. You can’t be someone who is super introverted and unable to start relationships with the clients; because often you are going to be the one doing the Hard Talks about difficult subjects. It doesnt mean you have to be a drill sargeant, but it means you need to have the confidence to talk with anyone.

If you’re a bit shy, work on talking to people and even looking into little courses. You’re not needing qualifications in public speaking, but you do need to have yourself in a position wherein you can talk to someone, even a whole family, or even lawyers, and police. Via phone, video, face-to-face, etc.

+Have work clothes and home clothes. Also court clothes, if you work in areas that need it.

Wear smart casual, you need to look presentable but not be like, dripping with diamonds and playing ‘rich person ministers to the Poors’. It happens, they get told off.

DO NOT WEAR SKIN TIGHT CLOTHES. Or ripped skinny jeans, or have your cleavage/buttcrack hanging out. Please. Strapless backs and short shorts also no.

Students sometimes turn up in this and it is dangerous. Especially the ladies. Sometimes you work with people who are very dangerous, who will interpret clothing for consent, and/or have incredibly low respect for women. When something happens, they will point to the workplace dresscode and absolve themselves of the situation.

Do not wear dangly earrings, scarves or thick necklaces/anything you do not want taken. And if in a hospital role, there are additional rules about what can and cannot be worn (bare below the elbow rule).

Also, enclosed shoes. IF you are in a service that assists families with dysregulated lives, or in the hospitals, etc, you will have strict policies about footwear for your safety.

+Get the flu shot. Trust me. Do it. You talk to so many people, by the time one catches a cold and you start showing symptoms, you’ve seen like twenty people and they all have families.

+Be used to working to tight deadlines. They are always there, esp in hospital social work where you legit have to account for every minute of the day and patient seen on this awful little system.

We are understaffed in most areas, and you will need to work hard.

BUT, self-care is imperative. Even if it is only making sure you leave before 9pm each night lmao.

+Be able to let insults go. You are going to be dealing with people often in the worst part of their life, be it mental health, in the justice system, having their kids removed, being disabled and persistently denied assistance, having significant alcohol/drug concerns, people who have experience extreme sexual harms or domestic violence, people who are being stalked, people in crisis etc.

At some point someone will call you some horrific things, or threaten you, or make nasty comments about you, etc. They may try to make constant complaints, etc. And as frustrating as that is, you have to understand their frustration and anger and fear.

You do not have to sit there and listen to them swear at you, that’s not what this means. It means that when someone is heightened and calling you a cunt, or something more inventive, you don’t give them the reaction they want; you can acknolwedge that they are upset/etc, or give them space by ending the call/leaving the room.

Think about when something happened for you and it was the Worst and you swore or threatened, etc. When you are calm, it seemed ridiculous, didn’t it?  But that was you processing big, complicated feelings in the only way that felt right at the time. Same for them.

+You need to be aware that some clients have done or experienced terrible things, but you need to be open to the individual within the trauma. For example, someone may not be showing their emotional distress or pain or grief etc in the way you think they should, so you might discount it. When, someone who has gotten to know the client is aware that they tend to do ____ behaviour when they are having flashbacks, which is not a behaviour normally associated with the trauma.

Also, biases again.  Just because someone is on drugs and denying to you that they have a problem, does not mean some part of them isn’t aware they do have one. Relapses are common. Soemtimes it is about discussing what was happening for them this week that made them use again, what they could try next time, if they are using their support networks. And never putting them in the Hopeless box.

If you are really struggling with a client, lean on your team, talk to your supervisor and see what else can be done or if there is another social worker with more experience who can be involved even for a short-term intervention.

+Don’t throw jargon and insider terms around when talking to clients, it’s rude.  Explain things, use pauses so they can think.

+Look into the primary populations of your area/the area you intend to work in. Are there a high level of Indigenous persons? Refugees? People whose first language isn’t english and may need extra help with engagment?

What are your immediate thoughts (learned stigmata/stereotypes) about these peoples? How can you learn more?

In Aus, we work closely with Indigenous communities and agencies around social work matters. Making sure everyone is supported, heard, and can understand the concerns being raised/what is needed to help the client move forwards. There are many people out there who see this as ‘coddling’ or ‘unfair to non-Indigenous people’; but it is simply making certain that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are on the same footing as any non-Indigenous client.

And that cultural options are put on the table, such as having a family member step up to take in a child whilst the parent is not well; or trying a community-focused approach to helping with a drug concern, and using the right agencies so that they have appropriate supports.

Would it be fair to have a non-english speaking client in a courtroom without an interpreter? Why?  Would you claim that they should know english and the entire legal system bc they were in your country? Of course not, that’s absurd.  But some people think that way.

Would it be fair to ask someone in a wheelchair to file a form on the top floor of a building with no elevators, by 5pm, or lose their home? Why? Would you think they are complaining or ‘lying’ if they were able to mobilise a few steps without the chair, on a good day? That they were being ‘lazy’ and ‘deserved’ to lose their housing? Of course not, that’s absurd.  But some people think that way.

When the military put men into service in the wars, they made anyone who could pass an english test an officer and the rest priovates who would die first in battle. Was this fair? Why not? Because it ensured the rich white dudes with private tutors got the best spots (totally unqualified) while the poor, poc and refugees were used as cannon fodder. Many could have been good officers if the test was about competence, but it wasn’t. Some people feel this was fair.

There are still people who think they ‘did the right thing’ whilst participating in the Stolen Generations; but then, they also thought taking babies from single mothers was appropriate too. That women couldn’t vote or be trusted with money, that is was ‘kinder’ to take a stillborn away and dispose of it without the mother ever seeing... rather than let her hold them, and say goodbye the way she needed to. Not to mention the english children shipped over to Aus to be used as little slaves and cruelly abused by Priests and Nuns and ‘upright christian citizens’. Not to mention lobotomies for when people were too emotional/refusing to play the game. Forcing hormone treatments on men and women to stop their homosexuality or sexually abusing them to ‘fix them’. Not to mention all the Twilight births nonsense where they tried to remove the pregnant person from the equation entirely, and it kept causing post partum depression.  Not to mention... Not to Mention... NOT TO MENTION...

We have a lot of broken little old men and women and nonbinary (who do or don’t realise it) now, because of these “helpful interventions”.

You need to be aware of the harm that has been done, and aware of your own practice, so this damage can’t happen again and again.

Understand that your perspective and the worries/concerns you hold are often different to those of the client, because you are individuals who grew up in very different ways.

And remember, being a rich white person in a high paying job with good social standing doesn’t mean you can’t be charged for drug possession or have child safety knock on your door about the bruises you leave. Never think people are Above being awful, and never Assume people are because they are poor, a different colour, have not had your advantages, or have a disability/poor mh or addiction.

Clients are people, like you. Never think that you are above needing help too, one day. We all do, humans are built to rely on the group, on the social bonds we make from the minute we are born.

+Do you overreact to things? Sometimes a client will tell you about something that happened years ago, but they may phrase it like it happened yesterday (because of how it has returned to their mind, etc), and if you were to overreact to that immediately it can break the relationship/cause harm. You could say, “I can hear that this is very distressing for you, thank you for telling me about this difficult event in your life. Would it be alright if I asked you a follow-up question about when this occurred?” Sometimes a client will disclose things to you, and the goal is to remain in the conversation. They do a lot of this preparation at university, but you also need to have a personal ability to not panic off the bat.

+Ask yourself, is there anyone I would refuse to work with... and then examine Why. How would you react if a person like that came onto your caseload?

+Do not become overly emotionally invested in a client. It will be said in training over and over again, but you need to have clear boundaries; and being too invested in their success can hinder your ability to provide appropriate assessments for the client. Meaning they are not getting the care they need; which can sometimes be a harsh conversation about how you can see they are trying, but have backslid recently, so what is happening?

+Look at any internal biases and prejudices you may have. Did you have extreme mental health concerns that may make you feel more sympathetic to a parent or client, and this could blind you to the other concerns present? Didyou grow up rich and now have unrealistic expectations of what is necessary to be a good person? Do you think that all ‘those people’ should ______ ? Why?  Question yourself. If you find yourself stereotyping or pigeonholing someone as ‘just another ____ trying to _____’ stop. Think about it. Where did you get that idea?

+Be aware of professional boundaries, do not be friends with the clients, but don’t be cold. Always let your bosses know about potential conflicts of interest to protect you.

Like, don’t loan the client $5, don’t hang out at the cinema because they’re ‘a great person’, etc.

And be aware that you have more power in this dynamic, so you have to be careful not to abuse it.

+You need to be good at record keeping, and honest.  Everything you do is documents, referrals, reports, affidavits, forms, and a million little notes for this and that. It is imperative you are accurate, use the format required, and be honest. If you saying “Have you tried not taking drugs?” to a client sends them into a rage, you don’t write “Client was heightened and threatened me without reason at today’s session” in the notes. That’s putting a knife in their back.

”Client was triggered when I, the practitioner, made an inappropriate remark (”Have you tried not taking drugs?”) today. They told me I am a “fucking whore who should kill myself” and threw their chair across the room before leaving the building. I have discussed this matter with my supervisor, and we are going to call Client at 3pm today, to provide a formal apology for this statment and attempt to repair the professional working relationship, as they have been making significant progress with this agency until today’s event.” Whole scenario, tells the real story. You will make mistakes, but it is about being able to accept this and move forwards.

Accurate documentation is a must, may be needed for court.

+You will need to have a good memory. A good way of keeping little notes to unlock the full encounter when you write casenotes and reports.

+Make connections. Every client will need a support system around them, and if you have an inroads with different agencies, it will help them out. For example, if your client has drug concerns, then being aware of the agencies and counsellors in the region broadens their safety net.

Knowing the practitioners gives you someone to ask for professional advice around, say “Good Morning Kim, I know your agency handles Centrelink application often for non-english speaking clients. I have a client who is new to the country and is struggling to complete the financial aid forms, they speak Language. Would I be able to refer them to your agency, or will they need a more specific agency who handle Language -speaking persons?”

You have, in a deidentified way, sought help for a client through a known agency and can now refer them pending the answer. Etc.

+If you are not sure about something, ask your supervisor. They have several years on you, and almost all areas of social work prescribes to one or another Acts (legal requirements) which they are required to have a strong grasp on.

Get to know any legislation in the area you are aiming for. This will help immensely.

+Doing a degree gets you two fieldwork practicals, in different areas.  These really help you identify which area you want to go for; your main goal going into a degree may not be the one you settle on. Many people have an idea where they want to work and change their minds after their placements, or really feel connected to a different area, etc.

+Mostly, be certain this is what you want.

Have your own support network.

Be aware that you must uphold confidentiality, at all times. No posting to social media people, please...

Be aware that in small communities you are likely shopping at the same place as clients. Ask them how they want you to react when you see each other in public (eg. please don’t acknowledge me, or happy to give a wave) so they feel comfortable.

Don’t disclose personal information to a client.  There’s a difference between “Yes, I can see that you are having trouble with baby; I recall they get quite fussy at teething time, have you tried a cold biting ring?” and “My son, Chadley, is eight but when he was two he used to just keep biting the furniture and his poor teacher, Mrs Allyways! At least he’s grown out of it now, but I just know Bailey’s going into that phase soon, the dangers of having kids a few years apart!”

I know who your child had as a teacher, and now the school as well, esp if its a small town. I know you have two children, their names, and your last name so I could go get them from school if I wanted to. I know you work until 5pm, and someone could pick them up.

Etc.

Mostly, be a decent human being who does their best and doesn’t walk in thinking they’re better than everyone, and you can do okay. Have a good support network, use them, and seek help if you struggle.

Uni is drawn out and a bit boring, but you will get a lot from it (even if you only see it in hindsight).

[monomonomagines]

Can I get a thing with kirumi,souda,fuyuhiko,sakura and Celeste who's s/o is very afraid of horror movies but tries to play it off like they aren't but they are noticeably jumpy afterwards seeing one?

Sure thing Anon! I hope you don’t mind me going into a bit more detail about when they’d comfort S/o as some are more observant but if anything isn’t to your liking feel free to tell me! After all, I’ll gladly fix up whatever I goofed if I did at all!

Kirumi

Kirumi herself wasn't a fan of horror movies though she was perfectly content with watching them so long as you were by her side.

It wasn’t that she was ever fearful of them but she mostly only enjoyed them as it allowed her to spend her time simply allowing you to hold on to her if need be or providing for you any other way you’d need her to.

She wasn’t very pushy with her help, normally allowing you to take your time to admit how fearful you would get, but she normally noticed it far before you would even realize.

That’s why, per usual, she held a rather stoic face as you two came to the end of the movie playing this time.

You had seemed jumpy as she quickly caught onto but she still had kept her mouth shut, remaining patient as she asked you a simple, “Are you alright, S/o?”

You wanted to tell her you were, you didn’t want her to know of your fears or how badly the movie affected you so you simply shook your head, boldly brushing off her concerns at first.

However, as you continued to act noticeably jumpy, even towards her if you didn’t see her for a moment or if she placed her hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, she couldn’t help but become overwhelmed with her own desire to help.

She normally wouldn’t act so rash but as she didn’t know what else to do had quickly pulled you into an embrace, uttering out how it’s ok and that you’re safe.

She would protect you so there is no need to worry yourself, she’d assure you, refusing to let go of you until you seemed to show signs of improving.

“S/o I do hope you know that if there’s anything you need, I’d be happy to aid you in any way I can so please, rely on me. I’ll permit no harm to come your way.”

Kazuichi

Kazuichi isn’t the most attentive guy when it comes to his surroundings, especially during a horror movie.

All he can focus on is trying to keep up his own “cool guy” act as he doesn’t want to look like a fool around you.

He cared more than anything about what you thought of him and would be devastated if you thought anything ill of him or even worse, that he was lame and a coward.

All throughout the movie, he ended up clinging onto you just as much as you would on him, both of you trying to brush off your jumpiness with a laugh and excuse with neither of you noticing that the other felt the same.

Kazuichi was skeptical if you realized or not as he wasn’t the best actor but as he seemed to make it through the end of the movie with you, he felt a bit of confidence finally growing in his chest.

He made it, with his image intact! This was great! If not for him trying to hide his own jumpiness he would’ve cheered.

Perhaps, that action though is what exposed the two of you. Overcome with excitement he grabbed onto you, intending to pull you into a hug and instead causing you to visibly jump and yell, causing him to follow suit before he could even comprehend what the two of you were so scared for.

“Wh-what’s wrong!? What’s going on!?” He cried out, looking frantically about the two of you as you awkwardly let out a small laugh.

You tried to assure him it was nothing but even Kazuichi wasn’t that stupid. He could tell just from looking at you now that you were as jumpy as him right now and he didn’t want things to stay this way at all.

“Y’know S/o, it’s ok if you’re scared,” he says, taking your hand into his own, “i-if anything, I’m a bit jumpy myself right now so you’re not alone. If you want we could even go lay in bed, I mean, it always feels a lot safer under the covers and stuff right?”

Fuyuhiko

While Fuyuhiko was more attentive than Kazuichi was, he was certainly no Kirumi.

He’d sit out the entire movie with you, not thinking much about the first few times you would react to any of the scares.

However, as the movie crept closer and closer to its eventual end, he quickly took note of how you grew increasingly jumpy.

“You know, if you’re so scared of it, you don’t have to watch it!” He yells out, not realizing how loud he was due to his frustration until he saw your body jump once again.

He knew he wasn’t the most gentle when he got frustrated, he was the Ultimate Yakuza after all and he had his own struggles with his anger but at that moment he knew he scared you.

He didn’t intend to but he made you jump and he felt awful.

Without a second thought, he brushed aside your excuses as he looked at you with a rare concerned expression.

“I’m not buying any of that bullshit,” he says, trying to keep his voice softer this time, “I can tell you’re scared so I’m not leaving this on. Give me the remote!”

Ignoring the excuses pouring from your mouth once again, he quickly grabs the remote from your hands, flicking off the TV and dropping the remote to his side dramatically.

He didn’t care if he seemed stubborn or childish to you right now, what he wanted was to make you feel better and you’d best believe that he’d do whatever he can to accomplish this!

Losing any sense of pride, he pulled you into a hug, brushing your hair back as he reassures you that he’s right there and that even some stupid monster wouldn’t be a match for him.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, The Ultimate Yakuza! As if some guy with eyes all over his body could take me, that’s just more points I can hit him anyways!”

Sakura

Sakura, similar to Kirumi and Fuyuhiko, wasn't easy to stir up.  

She was steeled enough to act calm and rational in most situations, rarely seeming affected even by any real-life horrors she might encounter.

However, she also was attentive enough to notice that this wasn’t exactly the case for you.

She didn’t mention it as she didn’t want to damage your pride at all, but she could certainly tell that you would be more of a mess without her here so she simply laid her larger hand next to yours for you to grab if you so pleased.

She wanted to do more of course, but with the way things were she was a bit apprehensive, worried that she might make you jump even worse than the movie playing before the two of you.

That’s why she didn’t even utter a word, even as you took her offering, grabbing onto her hand and squeezing her for dear life as you jumped again and again at the scares.

It wasn’t actually until the end of the movie that she finally spoke up, nearly causing you to jump in itself due to how shaken up you were.

“S/o, you’re far too shaken up! Let’s put something else on to calm your nerves.” She says, releasing your hand as she gets up and looks to you, giving a small gentle smile.

“I’ll put on some soothing videos and get you a drink. It should help you to recover your strength.”

Celeste

Celeste has no issues with horror movies, quite enjoying them herself if they happen to have anything to do with vampires especially.

This didn’t mean that her attention was fully on the movie playing in front of the two of you though.

Celeste was rather observant herself so she could easily see through your brave act, noticing immediately how you tried to brace yourself for each scare, only to look worse off than you had before.

She had noticed but she didn’t want to say anything to address it either. If you wanted to put on a brave act so badly, she wasn’t going out of her way to say anything. After all, that was all on you.

Or so she thought, but Celeste couldn’t help but go soft when she noticed your looks worsening even as you both neared the end of your current film.

She was a fan of the pale look but certainly not to this extent. With how bad you looked she couldn’t help but worry, despite her poker face hiding even those kinder feelings of hers.

She could tell there was no stopping you if she addressed your skittishness now, so rather than say anything she made an excuse herself, giving an exaggerated yawn as she announced, “I’m feeling rather tired, S/o. How about we finish this movie another time and head to bed together?”

She was normally a good actress but when she saw the face you gave her she could already guess that you were going to spill excuse after excuse of how you weren’t scared, even if she knew better.

“S/o, you know that you cannot hide such a thing from me, yes? I can tell you're scared even now, so I wanted to take a break. It should be the greatest honor for someone like me to be worried for you, shouldn’t it?” She asks, smiling matter of factly as she grabs the remote from your hands to turn off the TV.

She wasn’t the best at opening up to you but you could tell she cared. You knew that just as much as you knew not to argue with her, feeling a smile cross your features as she brushed off her own evident worries the way you did.

“You shouldn’t be focusing on a silly movie like that when you’re keeping me waiting, right?”

[bloodline-rpg]

Congratulations, Bigby! We have accepted your application for your OC, Tyler Orville (FC  Dane Dehaan) Please create a new blog (not a sideblog) for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Along with your link, please let us know what lyric you’d like for us to use for Tyler in his bio if you do not wish to use the one on the skeleton. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Bigby

Age: Twenty-Six (twenty-seven as of jan 26, 2020!).

Preferred pronouns: they/them

Timezone: est

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): I work full-time midnight shifts from 11:30pm - 7:30 am. I am gone from the house from 10:30 pm until 8:30 am. I do not get online in my “mornings” but after work I’m usually on for a couple hours before bed. This is/would be my only rp group so I can devote my free time and attention to it outside of regular adult responsibilities. That being said, I do have regular access to tumblr IM and discord while away for plotting and keeping in touch/up to date.

CHARACTER DETAILS

(The Resurrected skeleton).

Character’s Name: Tyler Orville

Desired FC: Dane Dehaan

Character’s Age: Twenty-Seven

Character’s Species: Immortal Witch

Character’s Sexuality: Bisexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tyler lived a fractured childhood. Fragmented moments glimpsed of a possibility, at something forever out of reach. He was born sick. Sick in an ever changing way, as if the unnamed disease that ravaged his body was more than such, as if the very illness were alive. He was their first child born following two miscarriages, two elder siblings he’d never know and he couldn’t help but think bitterly that whatever awful thing nested within his being had been the root cause of their deaths.

Francine Calhoun, his mother came from a long, long line of original witches; the kind of old blood that prided themselves on their lineage so much so that inbreeding had been commonplace in generation’s past. Her courtship and subsequent marriage the kind of witch that barely qualified as a witch. The kind of witch, that if it were a mere man and nothing more; would only go to church on Easter and Christmas and call themselves a devout Christian.  In fact, Teddy Orville hadn’t been much of a witch for the last several years; a decade even, outside of the odd potion infused tea to help during the university crunch before exams anyway.

Much of Tyler’s life was spent in hospitals. Moved from one doctor’s appointment to the next; a seemingly endless stream of doctors approaching his case with first fresh faced enthusiasm and big dreams of curing the incurable before frustration, disappointment, shame…no tests they ran produced conclusive results. Were they absolutely certain it was not environmental? Were they certain it wasn’t all just in his head? What a wicked thing to ask a boy of barely nine years, far too small and too many sharp edges, sunken eyes and blood stained lips.

His parents refused to give up.

Isolated from their magical foundations (your child’s illness, your child’s pain and suffering, your damned spawn’s death is what you deserve for allowing your body, your womb, to be tainted with such a lesser man’s seed) Francine struggled to cope, struggled to combat the evil plaguing her son’s body with her magical abilities coupled with modern medicine. For the time being, Tyler was alive even if that was touch and go; would it not be kinder to let him pass? To let him go?

He drifted from palliative care back to intensive, back to long term; his education was sporadic at best. Not once did he set foot in an actual school and he longed for a life outside these walls; to be like the children he watched on television or read about in his books. He longed for some greater being to come and purge him of this wicked illness in his breast and though his parents struggled to provide him with a life; he wasn’t living, was barely surviving the day: rinse and repeat.

His life changed when he received a clunky laptop at thirteen, it allowed him an unheard of outlet to the world in forums, in chat rooms, through games. He could be anybody. Anyone but himself. And maybe in the beginning he fell in love with that anonymity. He was no longer the sad little sick boy, he could be a regular boy doing regular boy things like going to school, playing sports, and hanging out with his friends. Friends. He began to make those too.  That was new. He’d never had friends that weren’t the nursing staff in the unit he stayed at or the PSWs that came to his home when he was enjoying one of his rare “good” streaks (they never lasted).

There were other children in the pediatric wards of course, but they were never the long term kind of patients. Not like him. There were the odd handful that stayed for a couple months, and some even a couple years but…their endings were not happy ones.

Technology improved with time, not just with his laptop but with medicine. With such improvements came new hope. And new disappointment. Funny that, he thought he’d long been accustomed to the bitter taste. As he got older, his good streaks became less and time spent within the gently titled comfort of his own home became sparse until it became nonexistent. By this point in time, the knowledge of witches had become common; and some younger, braver, perhaps even brasher doctors went against the norm to seek help out in these communities but came up empty handed.

His parents were drowning in debt, in sorrow and their exhaustion showed. Tyler almost wished they hated him. Wished they’d move on. Try again with another baby, a healthy baby. Do it right this time, since he was nothing but wrong.

He’s so young. The staff whispered, pity, sorrow heavy; had been whispering since he was in the single digits. Tyler would be forever young despite being closer to thirty than twenty. His activity in his group chat dropped to an all time low, his oldest friends feared the worst.

And he discovered something unheard of.

It was the kind of discovery one could only stumble upon in the places on the internet that no one should go. Where only those with wicked intent did linger. Immortality. It seemed too good to be true, some old wives tale; some fantasy story straight out of the games he played with his friends (less and less so these days).

Only it was real.

And it was obtainable.

A cure.

I’m a real boy.

Talking about being forever young had never rung so true, the doctor’s were baffled. His family was torn between horror and gratitude. He stood in the hospital garden, barefoot with dirt between his toes (and the odd cigarette butt or two but that’s less romantic) and simply basked in the sun. It was as close to a religious experience as he’d ever experienced, and he’d spent a lot of time praying to an uncaring God over the years. Begging. Pleading. Cursing.

He sent a letter written in a terribly untidy scrawl to Carden Manor requesting the chance to relocate. To discover the culture he’d never had the chance to experience, of witches and wolves and perhaps others like him. After all, it was the only community of their people he could name and maybe he was still on the tail-end of euphoria that had him wanting to throw himself into the deep end so to speak.

Maybe there was something darker there, something darker that festered close to pain towards his parents. Resentment. Anger. They claimed to have exhausted all means but what of this? “It’s something born of the darkest of magic Tyler please…” had it been a line they were unwilling to cross? Had they known about it all along but their morals had them unable to act?  This was an old magic, this wonderful beautiful thing that had been a boon to his ravaged body. This thing that had given him a new lease on life, was to him far more a blessing than any kind of curse. Already accustomed to the taste of (his own) blood on his tongue, the need to consume such a thing to survive was such that he didn’t even bat an eye.

Anger. It simmered, boiled toward all consuming and dark. Terribly, terribly dark. A want for violence, to let his hands hook into claws and act out such emotions; revenge? He wasn’t sure. Though, Tyler was absolutely sure of one thing: he wanted away from them.

Moving to the manor was the second best thing to ever happen to him and he’s all too eager to dive into a life he never thought he’d get the chance to have.

To live.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

It’s almost painfully obvious that Tyler’s social skills are lacking. Limited socialization during his formative years has left its mark. The bulk of his ability to interact with his peers is stilted and awkward, he can come off as blunt, flat, and even cruel. Withdrawn as though secretive (and he is hiding something, hiding who and what he used to be before his immortality) he comes off as standoffish and every bit some kind of “edgy loner kid” persona. Though he is most comfortable when alone or in front of a keyboard, residing at the manor demands that he evolve past this. As does his new lease on life. He’s trying.

Incredibly self-motivated, Tyler is almost too eager to learn more of the supernatural world to which he’s been removed from for so long. His own magical talent, lacking largely in part due to a lack of proper training. His parents, understandably, had been much too focused on his ailing health. He has a truly impressive repertoire for potions and enchantments; the kinds of witch’s work one can learn from a tome but has very little hands on experience. His frustration for his…otherness that still remains is palpable. As though he hasn’t really changed. And due to such a state, he tends to lash out at his peers which does little to earn him any friends.

He’s used to not having friends, even if he finds himself frustrated with his inability to adapt in this regard. It’s a lot more difficult than he anticipated to reshape himself into somebody, a new and improved version of Tyler Orville.

Some parts of his original self remains, a quiet thoughtfulness, an impossible patience at odds with his frustration, and an optimism he tries to keep buried deep down for fear of coming off over eager and annoying.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Presently, Tyler stands fairly neutral on the in game political spectrum due largely in part to his inexperience. His outsider status borders on some sort of isolation; which in a way, speaks the truth. He was woefully isolated from his people and hardly had it in him to follow the news much outside of the big events. Like the world discovery their kind in 2016, he saw that; read about it. His friends in the group chat talked about it. A lot. He and his best friend, Alex, fretted in a private chat about the repercussions of such a thing.

He’s not too overly keen on the servitude aspect of other species, finds it rather barbaric if he’s being honest but is well aware of the delicate line he walks here. Outsider. He’s the son of a marrying of a strong bloodline into a weak one, he never once met his Mother’s family and knows nothing of their history. Of their possible feuds. His Father’s family could never hope to hold a torch to such greatness. Tyler straddles the line between a somebody and a nobody.

In this, he could potentially be shaped into a supported of any party with the right guidance. He has power given his immortal status and his bloodline is strong, if watered down some with his Father’s genetics. He could prove to be a promising ally to any party should they wish to court him so.

As far as plots go, I want to explore him well, exploring life in person instead of looking on from the outside in. I want him to interact with his peers from wildly different walks of life and learn more about the world. The world, his world that had been so very small has suddenly exploded into something so grand.

I also have a potential wanted connection for him to offer, in the form of his best friend Alex (who can be played male, female, or non-binary) who is also a supernatural (species up to the potential other mun) and they met playing an unnamed fantasy mmorpg. Alex brought Tyler into their group of friends and they’ve been Tyler’s main friend group ever since. Tyler has gone radio silent before, but this is something new altogether. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the Earth and Alex fears the worst. What exactly brings Alex to the manor would be 100% up to the other mun but a reunion would absolutely be required and their future interactions and relationship is anyone’s guess!

[spootiliousrps]

Suspicious Nature Part 7

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

“Practice.” Eve said softly. “Everyone starts off where you are now. So don’t worry, we’ll get there.” She said softly.

"By Sunday?" Cas asked, obviously doubtful.

“We’ll get there.” Eve encouraged. “If you can learn to fight, then you can learn to walk.” She smiled.

Cas squinted at her still not on the same page. "Doubtful. At least with fighting you have to have a strong stance... this is... this like walking a tightrope with strong wind." He huffed before chuckling. "I'll make you a deal... If I learn to walk in these by Sunday, you let me teach you how to fight." He offered playfully.

Eve’s eyes grew wide. “I’m too old, and too much of an Omega to ever contemplate it.” She whispered.

That made Cas give a snort of amusement. "I was born just as much of an Omega as you, Eve." He pointed out in amusement as he took a shaky step. "And as far as I am concern I've trained older people than you."

Eve smiled. “I just don’t feel comfortable around weapons. I feel better in heeled shoes and dresses.” She said as she held tightly onto Castiel. “You need to be in control. Don’t fear the shoes. Command them. Tell them what you want.”

Castiel glared down at his feet. "I demand you cease your wobbling!" He snapped at them before addressing Eve

"And I the opposite." He admitted. He took another step, this time keeping from tripping at least.

 Eve laughed. “Not like that. When you had to command your men, you changed your posture and the way you stood. “Don’t lead with your heel so much, as you walk, keep your toes on the floor, just for the moment.”

That made absolutely no sense to him as he attempted it. It felt like he was stomping. This was ridiculous and he was becoming annoyed very quickly. "I feel like a horse prancing about like this." He huffed as he kept his posture straight.

  “I know. You’ll get used to it. I promise. I looked awful when I learnt.” Eve promised. “Slide your toes along the floor and then place your heel down.”

The Omega gave an annoyed growl as he complied. He managed a few steps before wobbling and giving another curse. "Why cant I just were my boots. The dress is long enough no one will notice? What if someone decide to try their luck how am I suppose to fight in these?"

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Eve said softly. “You can always take your shoes off, and apparently a kick hurts a lot. But no one will try it on.”

 "Sorry that wasnt directed at you." He sighed. "Just been a rough few days. My feet as dying... do you mind if we take a break?"

  “I understand. Let’s sit you down and take them off. We can talk cutlery and dinner manners.” Eve said, helping John to sit on the bed.

 "Thank you." Cas sighed in relief doing his best to try and reach his feet over the bulk of the dress and giving another growl of frustration when he failed.

 Eve smiles and knelt down, taking his shoes off gently. “Shall we take your dress off as well so we don’t crease it?” She offered, patiently.

 "Yes, please." Cas rushed in relief already beginning to try and get it off.

Eve chuckled and help Castiel to unfasten the dress. “It is very pretty, it suits you well.” She said softly as she hung it up in his wardrobe. “You’re lucky you have all these clothes made for you.”

Cas pursed his lips as he considered his reply. "Thank you." He mumbled far more softly as he moved to dress in his regular attire. "I only wish I had a say in any of it." He admitted as he tugged on his trousers.

“We generally don’t, Sire.” Eve said softly. “You were lucky to have the opportunity to get the Royal treatment. They are kinder and give you more options.” She said softly. “You could have worn anything within reason and they would have made it.”t

"You say that and yet I was stripped down and marched to my quarters. I wouldn't call that a kindness." He grumbled.

“No Alpha would punish us. Not someone like His Majesty.” Eve said, as he eyes glazed over for a moment before blinking. “He’s a good man, he’s trying his best to not only learn his job, but to care truly for Omegas. His father wasn’t a good man. You are in the unique position to help His Majesty in these areas, if you do this, he’ll break through heaven and hell if you asked.” Eve explained softly.

"All I've asked is for some respect and him to stop threatening my family and yet every time he hears something he remotely doesnt agree with it's always straight to torturing and punishing the only family I have. I would happy to assist it He wasnt such an assbut." He scoffed. "Trying or not he had a cruel streak that reminds me of his father at times. And yes I know just saying that could get me hanged." He sighed. "I just dont care anymore."

Eve sighed. “No Alpha is perfect. Get him somewhere open, not confined in his quarters. Somewhere he likes to be. And speak to him kindly and softly. Offers him something he would like, ply him into a good mood and then explain that you don’t like your family being threatened. If you’re lucky he’ll open up as to why he’s being an... assbut. And then offer to help him work on whatever reasons he gives.” Eve explained softly as she turned back around to face the Omega. “His Majesty is probably still in mourning as well and he’s not being able to process that.”

Castiel hesitated, blinking at her in surprise. He... hadn't really thought about the fact the man might be mourning. Even if he didnt care for his father's actions it was still his father... perhaps he could manage that. "That was... very helpful and wise... thank you Eve."

Eve smiled, “I’m just old, my dear. I’ve been around a long time. Shall we get on with your dining etiquette? If you do well, I’ll listen to more of your thoughts and give you my thoughts.” Eve offered.

"I... would really like that." Cas admitted the tension in his shoulders fading more in that moment then that had since the whole thing began. Honestly... he missed his talks with Gabriel... it would be nice to have someone to talk to now that he was stuck in the kitchens.

Eve nodded as she brought out a set of pristine cutlery with ten sets of knives and forks. “There’s going to be ten course meals on Sundays, each one with their own cutlery.” She explained.

Castiel groaned at the information but he sat up listening carefully as he counter the utensils.

“So all you really need to know is that you use the knives and forks from the outside in. Apart from the soup course and you use the round spoon. Additionally, sometimes you use a second spoon for dessert, but it won’t be out of its not used.” Eve explained as she pointed to each spoon.

"Out in. Got it." He acknowledged. "So, what will I need to know about being an Omega in that situation?" He asked adjusting them slightly.

“So you’ll all arrive for a set time, as you do you’ll take your seat.” Eve started. “Your seat, this week will be at the head table on His Majesty’s right hand side. As you’re the newest Aide. There you’ll give a minute or two speech about your credentials and what you’re planning on achieving in the role. His Majesty May have already spoken to you about what he’s wanting from the military.” Eve explained. “Five minutes after the arrival time the King will enter. Everyone will rise, and salute him. Once he sits, the Alphas will, and then you as an Omega. I believe His Majesty is planning on overturning this rule so you’ll seat when the Alphas do. But as far as I’m aware he hasn’t done this yet.”

"Good to know. I suppose I will have to wait until he does." He acknowledged. "It will be upsetting to most of the Alphas that an Omega is becoming an Aide but I would like to keep it to a minimum." He sighed.

Eve nodded, “You’re the first in history, so there will be backlash. But you are paving a way for everyone other Omega. I will help you as much as you can, and so will His Majesty. The King wants you to succeed, that’s why he was giving you all that help at the beginning.” She explained. “Don’t throw the help away for the sake of vanity.”

Castiel scoffed at that. "Vanity? If only..." He sighed. "I had appreciated the help... it wasnt that... But tell me Eve... if he makes it a point to provide me with more than a typical Alpha, would that not be special treatment?" He asked. "If I gain these things when Alphas do not, it become more than just help it becomes priviledge and I become the favorite Omega who slept his way to the top even if it is untrue. By refusing the help I am nothing more than an equal. Yes it will be far more difficult... yes it will be dangerous but then no one can argue than an Omega /earned/ their place rather than being handed it.... That we are worth it. Thay we /can/ do it. This isnt just about me... or my vanity. It's about all of us. I dont want to be given anything that would make my job harder in the long run... including favoritism."

Eve sighed, “Sire, I cannot tell you what do to, but I would take the help. Everyone would believe I am the favourite anyway, because of the job I hold, the job proves favouritism enough, people will believe I slept my way to the position I hold, so I would take the help. It could be dangerous, like you said, so I would want anything that will make it easier, even just for one day.” Eve explained. “His Majesty wouldn’t want the reputation that every Omega he sleeps with to get a high level job, so he would dispel the rumours, anyway. I would take the help and at least go to sleep feeling safe.” Eve explained, placing the cutlery set to one side and gently taking his hand.

"Perhaps." Castiel sighed, considering it. Even if he didnt agree with the woman she did have some valid points. He gave her hand a small squeeze in return. "I could also kill any Alpha that tries anhthing." He offered. "Eventually they'd get the picture and leave me be." He shrugged knowing that's not really how that works.

Eve chuckled. “That’s if you don’t get thrown in prison first.” She smiled warmly.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I don't know Eve... there is a lot of ifs and maybes...  To be honest... I just miss home... not that there is a home to go back to after this." He sighed, glancing away, eyes sadder than they had been just a moment before.

“Why don’t you tell me about home?” Eve suggested. “We can try and make this room more homely if you wanted?”

Cas snorted at that, offering her a warm smile that made the still healing lip burn a bit. "That is very sweet but I doubt it would be manageable." He mused. "This room... it's too large and lavish. In the barracks all I had was a simple cot, the things I needed to care for my armor and a small wardrobe for my clothes. But honestly it's the people I miss... My men... the ones that were always there, always giving counsel or laughing in the next room." He gave a small sad sigh. "His Majesty has reassured me I can visit when I become Aide but... unless it's for business I dont believe that is a good idea. I have no doubt made most of them very angry and would not want to cause any more trouble than necessary. Still... it has only been a few days and I miss them terribly... And worst of all Gabriel isnt even here to help... His Majesty obviously despises him and after so many threats I wouldnt dare visit him... but I do worry about him."

“My sister works in the kitchens. She is as old as me. I’m sure she can swing it with the chef to let her look out for Gabriel, or many even train him.” Eve offered. “I’m sure His Majesty has a good reason for not liking Gabriel, he won’t despise someone for no reason.” She smiled. “Talk to His Majesty. Let him open up to you. He’s just as lonely and new to the job as you are. You two can help each other if you just try.”

"Oh... I wouldnt want her to bother herself.... Gabriel is quite a handful." He admitted softly. "Though it would put my mind at ease." He admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Obviously side stepping her words regarding the King. "You are very kind Eve... Thank you." He sighed. "It shouldnt be as rare as it is in the world but it is." He smiled at her.

“It shouldn’t, but if you work hard it won’t be rare ever again. Maybe even one day, your great great grandkids might see an Omega Queen in charge.” Eve said wistfully. “Come on, let have another try in your shoes and then I’ll leave you to rest.” She said softly.

Cas chuckled at that. “Yeah… Maybe.” He mused before his smile faded and he gave a childish groan before moving back towards the bed to put the torture devices back on his feet.

“Come on, I’m sure the last thing you want to do is walk into a room of stuffy old Alphas and look weak or even trip and fall.” Eve chuckled, as she helped Castiel to put the shoes back on.

“You’re right but I still don’t see why I can’t just wear my boots.” He huffed as he strapped them on and stood with a bit more confidence than before.  

“Because you need to prove that no matter what they do to you, you are better and will overcome it, and do their jobs ten times better.” Eve smiled, trying to instil confidence into Castiel.

The Omega shot her a side glare with no real heat, hiding a small smirk. “Must you always be right?” He teased lightly. “Its infuriating.” He chuckled as he tried to take a step forward. They really were painful.

“I’m old. When you’re my age, you’ll always be right too.” Eve smiled warmly. “Stop putting so much weight on your heels, try just walking on your tiptoes.”

Cas’ smile faded but he tried to comply, wobbling as he did so. He was certain he looked like an idiot but he did as he was told and slid his feet forward one at a time.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well. At least you’re doing this without me holding you.” Eve smiled. “No one is perfect straight away. It takes practice. I’m sure used to tell the new soliders that all the time.”

“Yes… though I feel a bit childish hearing it told to me at this age.” He mused as he waddled across the room, only almost falling twice.

“And you were trying to get to teach me to use a sword.” Eve smiled. “I’m proud of what you’ve done today. You’ve come so far is such a small amount of time. You’re a quick learning.”

“Well, I certainly try.” He offered, gaze still on his feet as he continued his treck. “I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted the Omegas who wear these.” He admitted softly.

“And here you were wanting to get away from your Omega side.” Eve smiled. “Is there anything you want to ask me about being an Omega? I don’t want you to be confused about anything.”

Cas paused considering it a moment. “I…” He began flushing deeply. “Apparently I am having a bit of issue hiding my scent. Is there something I can do?” He asked, as he moved to sink down with another sigh, feet already aching.

Eve sighed. “Share you heat. You’ve been so long without a heat, I believe your body may have... almost regressed back to a prepubescent stage. You’ve just come off the suppressants, so now your body is a teenager who has presented for the first time. It can’t control your scent or anything else related. Usually it settles down when an Omega shares a heat with an Alpha.” Eve explained softly. “That’s my best guess but I’ve never met anyone who has used suppressants before. “Your heat may be... strong as well. I know that whilst pregnant, an Omega doesn’t have heat, and after the nine months, it’s as if... the heats have built up, and is released all at once. At may be the same for you.” Eve explained. “So speak with an Alpha now, explain this and ask for their assistance. It will help ease the... desperation.”

Cas wrinkled his nose at that. “I think I rather be locked in a cage and forgotten.” He grumbled softly. “I don’t detest the idea of laying with an Alpha.” He clarified quickly, realizing how it sounded. “Its just… I don’t trust any of them in that aspect. Alphas are fine men in general outside of the bedroom but they’re aggressive sadistic beasts the moment the scent weakness.” He stated flatly as if he believed that that was the case without exception. “They want nothing more than to take what they desire by any means and leave their Omega as they please.” He gave another sigh, deflating a bit. “I suppose I’ll just have to figure out another way.” He mumbled already deep in thought, not realizing how serious his words had been.

“Castiel...” Eve said softly. “Make a deal with an Alpha. They can lay with you, but not knot you. Talk through what you want and don’t want. I promise if by the end of your heat, your scent will get worse and you’ll be in so much more pain. Don’t do that to yourself, just for unfounded stubbornness.” Eve said softly, taking his hands. “You’ll understand why I’m saying this if you trust me.”

Cas glanced at her evenly. “Unfounded?” He scoffed. “I might not have lain with an Alpha in some time but I’ve been with enough to know that nothing about it is ‘Unfounded’. And I would still need to find one that I could trust their word which at the moment is zero.” He sighed. “Maybe Surges…” He contemplated.

“He has a job that will take up too much time. You need someone who is their own boss.” Eve explained. “You are going to be in heat for the majority of the day and night.”

“Well, if he is assigned to me again then his only job would be to be with me.” He contemplated. “But that would imply I’d actually spend a heat with an Alpha.” He pointed out. “I have a lot to consider but I’m not sure of any of it.”

“Well you have my opinion, and...” Eve thought for a moment, “even if it’s not true, you can phrase it as it being you giving the Alpha your heat, and as such you can ask for something in return from them. Just... don’t throw the ideas away.” She hummed softly.

“Honestly Eve, I value your opinion to much to throw any of them away. Even if I don’t like them.” He teased lightly. “Can I take these off now?” He asked perhaps a bit too quickly.

Eve nodded, “but I want you to try walking around the room a few times today. I’ll be back tomorrow and I want to see you do it without help and without falling.” She smiled.

“I will do my best.” He offered returning her smile, very thankful for her presence suddenly.

Eve smiled and tentatively opened her arms. “I know you will. You’re a good man.” She said softly.

He hesitated before moving into her embrace which only made him miss his brother, the only other person he really hugged.

“You’ll do well. Just don’t try to do it alone. People want to help, allow them.” Eve said, before pulling back.

“I will do my best but if the cost is too great then I have to refuse.” He sighed, straightening as well.

“I know but you have to try. For all of us, you have to succeed or it will only get worse for us.” Eve said softly. “I’ve seen too much progress to watch it regress.”

“I can only promise to do my best.” He reassured. “I am just a man, though it seems like there are a lot of people who think otherwise.”

“We are all so desperate to show we can be equals. And you have the opportunity. Our dreams are to have the opportunity you have. But I will help any way I can.” Eve promised.

“I know… I hope to make the dream a reality.” He acknowledged. “But I am will still make some mistakes. I hope you can forgive me when I do.”

“We will. And I hope you’ll call on me if you need any advice.” Eve said softly. “I want to help you through this.”

“Speaking of which…” He mumbled softly. “How attached are you to your position?” He asked. “When I become Aide its my understanding that I can choose a number of advisors to assist in a great number of things. From what I’ve gathered most Aides choose military advisors but I feel as if I can manage that bit.” He admitted with a small chuckle. “Its etiquette I’m pretty worried about.”

“I’m too old to keep up with the young ones, but I don’t want to retire. It would be my honor to be your assistant, Sire.” Eve said bowing as low as she could with a fist over her heart.

Castiel’s grin broadened as he returned the salute with a shallow bow. “I hope you know what you’re getting into… It’s not going to be easy being an Omega assistant with the first Omega Aide.” He pointed out. “Could be dangerous… You sure you don’t want those sword lessons?” He teased playfully.

“I trust you’ll protect me, Sire.” Eve smiled. “Plus who would want to try it on with me? I’m old and saggy.”

The words caught Castiel of guard and it took a moment for him to realize what she had said before he burst into laughter.

Eve smiled and chuckled softly. “I’ll meet with you tomorrow at the same time. I want you walking around the room on your own.” She smiled, “and talk to a handsome, free Alpha about your heat. As your assistant, this is what I’m telling you to do.”

Cas shot her another glare still without any heat behind it. “Pushing me already I see.” He teased but nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“It’s for the best.” Eve smiled before leaving the room and Castiel in silence.

Castiel watched her go, feeling a bit better with the world around him. She was right… about so many things but perhaps he should address one thing at a time… He glanced at the shoes, toss haphazardly to the side… One thing at a time… just not /that/. He ignored them before turning to his desk and beginning to try and find the words to address the King.

To his Most Excellent Majesty Dean Winchester, King of Shurley

May it please your Majesty,

 To permit an unworthy, but loyal subject to approach your Majesty's throne in this manner, as tradition will not let me do it in any other.

I would like to humbly, formally request and audience with his Majesty, The King. It has come to my attention that there are a few subjects which may need to be discussed. While this is not a formal matter, which is a bit unorthodox, I feel that there is many misunderstandings that could be clarified with a simple civilized discussion; outside the confines of the castle and its inhabitants.

Perhaps if the King could find it in his good graces to spare a bit of time, an inspection of the new Knight Commander could be arranged with his Aide to be? I am certain the time it takes to stroll from the Castle to the barracks could be plenty enough for such discussion.

I request this and nothing more, I assure His Majesty. I am settling quite well into my position and feel as if everything that has been provided is more than adequate to meet the needs of a new Royal Aide.

May your most gracious Majesty take these matters into due consideration, and may you be inspir'd by the King of Kings to do that which is right in his sight. I wish long life and happiness to your Majesty, and am,

 Your Majesty's most Faithful and obedient Castiel Novak, Former Knight Commander.

 Dean read the letter a few time, digesting and dissecting the words slowly. It was never something he would have expected to read, especially from Castiel of all people. He picked up his quill and a clean piece of parchment: Dearest Aide Novak, Nothing would please me more than to dispel the air between us. I fear that the future will is close together, professionally. If you are able, please meet myself by the main entrance after supper, today. I am positive that the cool air will aide in our civilised discussion. Your ever faithful King, King Dean Winchester. Dean wrote in his elegant cursive handwriting he was forced to learn when he was a child.

Castiel was on his way to the library when the messenger presented him with the letter. He mumbled a quick thank you before breaking the seal and beginning to read the words carefully. He sighed a breath of relief when the words seemed to be accepting rather than patronizing and aggressive. Now all he needed to figure out is what he would wear to inspect the newly promoted men.

That evening, Dean headed out of his chambers, ordering the guard to stay behind. He had a short dagger strapped to his waist and a sword hanging on the other side. He waited by the double front doors, looking around for Castiel.

It didn’t take long for Castiel to appear, dressed in his social formal Alpha clothing from his previous rank. He would have preferred something more fitting but he wasn’t quite comfortable dressing as an Aide without the title, quite yet and the clothing Celeste had made for him was long gone. Regardless he approached the King, giving a low sweeping bow per usual. Though he hid it well enough his own weapons could be made out against the line of his waist and his boots if one looked close enough.

“Your Majesty.” He greeted. “Thank you for the quick response and the opportunity for counsel.”

“Of course.” Dean said softly, as he counted the numerous weapons on his person. “It read that you had something particular to speak about. Is there anything particular on your mind.”

 "Well... Yes. I suppose there is." Cas acknowledged before motioning towards the hall. "Shall we walk?"

Dean nodded and held his arm open, to allow Castiel to go first. “Is there anything I can do to ease your transition? I’ve heard that you’ve enjoyed your session with your elocutionist, so much that you’ve appointed her as your assistant.” Dean hummed softly.

 Castiel nodded and began to walk, keeping his eyes ahaed as he listened. "Yes, in the short amount of time I spoke to her she showed quite a bit of wisdom. I am also not so vain to ignore my weaknesses, the largest being etiquette as you have seen first hand." He admitted. "She actually advised I speak with you about matters at hand."

 Dean opened his arms, “I am all ears, Novak.” He said as he watched Castiel closely. “This is something causing you some distress. Wouldn’t you prefer to do this somewhere, away from any prying eyes and ears?” He offered, wanting Castiel to be comfortable for whatever matter he is about to raise.

 "If I may speak freely, Sire?" He asked carefully, finally glancing at him, looking a bit worried.

 “Of course Novak, this is clearly eating you up inside.” Dean said softly, wanting to reach out and take Castiel’s hand to calm the Omega but knew better than to try it.

 "To be honest, Sire... I was hesitant to be alone with you. Our... record for such things is not very pleasant." He pointed out. "But I hope to rectify that. I believe it is a simple case of misunderstanding. Perhaps we are not seeing things from each other's sides."

 Dean nodded. “May I just say that, what I was giving you, I didn’t see as help to make you more than equals to your Aide counterparts. I can only imagine how hard all this is for you, I merely wanted to help you onto the same footing as the other Aides.” Dean explained. “A lot of them had been training for the position for years, I thought I was helping by giving you the education and privileges that they had acquired over the years.” He explained, his eyes soft and gentle as he looked over to Castiel. “Please forgive my ignorance, Novak.”

 Castiel seemed to soften a bit at that, shoulders seeming slightly less tense than before. “I… Know.” He acknowledged softly. “There is no reason to apologize for that. I realize that you were only trying to help, Dean. I meant no disrespect when I refused everything you were trying to give. I only ask that you see it from my point of view as well… Having these things would help tremendously but at what cost. As an Omega next to the King; you could be accused of favoritism and I would be given privilege. Neither of which we can really afford if we are to accomplish what we are attempting. Every Omega Aide that comes after me would expect the same treatments while the Alpha’s are not receiving it. That cannot be allowed.” He offered as they continued on. “I must learn on my own unfortunately. Though I do want to express my gratitude for your willingness to assist. It is appreciated.” He acknowledged, forcing a small smile towards the man.  

Dean smiled and nodded. “As you wish, though I do hope you’d come to me if you need anything. Anything at all. Especially with something such as Singer. I know you may have thought my actions childish, but when there is a man who has been set in the rules and etiquette and procedures for as long as him, sometimes the only possible way to make him listen is to shout and be loud and break etiquette.” Dean explained, softly. He gave Castiel a soft smile, “how about... a deal, I won’t threaten your family, if you come to me when you need a King’s input?” He offered gently, guessing that Castiel would turn down the offer.

The Omega consider it for a moment, considering his options. “To be honest, Sire. After the night previously… I didn’t expect you would believe me, or care for that matter.” He admitted. “Your reaction was quite the surprise.” He sighed. “I couldn’t exactly run to you and plead when my brother could be harmed for it.” He added before giving another tension draining sigh. “I suppose I can ignore my doubts and approach you when necessary.” He acknowledged. “Someone had suggested that you may be handling your new role… not quite as easily as you let on as well.” He added, turning to eye the man. “Perhaps we should discuss you’re ascension as well? Is there anything I can aide you with? That is why you brought me here afterall, isn’t it?”

Dean smiled softly, as he looked over to Castiel. “All I could ever ask of you is to grow into your role quickly, which I know you’ll do.” He said softly. “But if you are offering, my role is... quite lonely, if you know of anyone that could lead a supportive ear, one who is cleared to hear about aspects of my role, that normal men cannot hear, then I would be grateful if you gave me their names.” Dean said, his voice growing quieter, as he looked around

Cas paused taking a moment to appreciate the evening air as they entered the courtyard just outside the palace. He was thankful that most of the servants were tending to either their families or the supper clean up duties. He turned to face the King. “Your Majesty, I realize that I have come off a bit… aggressively during our first few meetings. I had no intentions of such things. I’ve asked your forgiveness once, though perhaps a bit superficially, so I will ask it again. Please, forgive me. I suppose it is a defense mechanism after posing as an Alpha for so long. I hope to change it though it may take time. That being said, I would be honored to listen to your problems, concerns… opinions as a man, rather than a King. I assure, this time I will not address them so poorly.”

Dean nodded, he tried to keep a calm expression but the relief in his eyes and the tension lifting from his shoulders gave him away. “Thank you Novak, I... it means a lot that you would offered your services.” He said with a genuine smile, aimed at the Omega. “Though, to ask you of this task and not give you something of equal enormity and as personal seems... unfair. I understand you don’t want to be seen as a favourite, but I do hope to return the favour.” Dean explained.

“I am no so sure, Sire.” Castiel countered. “Last time I attempted it my brother was threaten. If I do so again, I suppose I should be so lucky not have a pet or he would be as well.” He added, the only indication that the words were meant as a joke was the small upturn of his mouth and the amusement that shown in his gaze.

“Your brother shall never come into harms away, again. Unless he puts himself there.” Dean said with a small smile. “If you would like a pet to make your room more homely, all I ask is that you don’t get a dog, I fear they don’t like me to well.” Dean explained.

Cas gave a small chuckle at that. “A pet is a lot of responsibility. I think I have my hands full enough with Gabriel.” He replied as they started walking once more; the Omega grateful for the small breeze that allowed the relieved scent he was no doubt exuding to dissipate. His smile faded slightly as he considered the last few weeks, however. “If we are discussing these issues freely, Sire. I hope it is not too much to ask how you are handling your Father’s passing? I know your relationship may not have been the greatest but a father is still a father.”

 It was Dean’s turn to stop walking and looked down to the floor. “This is still too public for me to speak ill of the dead.” He said, his voice small and weak. “Many liked him, and if someone overhears me speaking disrespectfully, I fear it won’t help my reputation much.” Dean sighed. “But thank you for the concern.” He looked up at Castiel, sadness filled his eyes.

 Castiel's brows furrowed, his own gaze saddened as he saw Dean for what he truly was for perhaps the first time: A man who was both confused and saddened by the loss of his father. Castiel wanted to reach for him, to comfort him... which was an odd feeling. "Of course... My apologies, I should have realized the inappropriate location." He acknowledged, feeling guilty while also a but relieved of Dean's subtle reaction. "Perhaps if the inspection goes well, we may have a bit of time to discuss matters more privately?" He offered.

 Dean nodded and looked to the sky to calm him emotions before looking back to Castiel. “Only if you wish to spend the time with me. I do not wish to force you.” He said softly, continuing their walk.

 "I suppose, to find out if you are good to your word... I would have to." He offered. "Since you assured me no more threats on my family." He added. "Eventually, perhaps we will earn one another's trust." He shrugged. "I'd say that's a good start at least."

 Dean nodded. “I do trust you, I just don’t appreciate some of the ways you speak to me.” He explained. “I trust your consul or I wouldn’t have made you an Aide.”

 Castiel chuckled at that. "I suppose you have a great number of reasons to feel that way. I suppose I am not very... charismatic in tone." He admitted with a sigh. "It had gotten me in quite a few arguement with King John, may he rest in peace." He admitted.

 “He can rest.” Dean mumbled. “We’ll work on it together.” He offered. “I’ll learn to understand what you’re trying to say and not become so defensive so easily.” He suggested. “Was there anything else you’d like to speak about? How are you settling into your room?” He asked.

 "Fairly well, all things considered." He admitted, thankful for the change in subject. "Its a bit too lavish for my tastes but I suppose I will get use to it. I would like, with your permission to have some of the furniture removed. I lived a fairly simplistic life until now and I am not quite sure what half of the pieces are meant to do." He admitted a bit embarrassed but the fact.

 “I’m sure your elocutionist can explain and show you. Or if you’d prefer, I can.” Dean offered. “Then you can choose whether you want to keep it or not.”

 "I am certain Eve will be most pleased to give me the full history of each." He mused. "I would not want to take up too much of your time, Sire." He offered. "It is just furniture."

 Dean hummed, “is there anything else you’d like to speak to me about? Anything personal or professional, I don’t mind.” He offered softly. “If you are to listen to my troubles then I’m happy to listen to yours.”

 "Well, perhaps... professional." He admitted. "Eve mentioned it is customary that Omegas sit last at meals such as the one Sunday. She had mentioned you were planning to change this but that it has not happened. I simply wanted to make sure this was the case and it would change?"

 “It is, it’s in motion.” Dean promised. “But my work is backdated four years, and at the moment, I need to deal with the older work first, as well as anything pertaining to my security in the job.” Dean sighed. “I’ll nudge it up the order, so it’ll be passed for the following Sunday.” Dean promised.

 "Of course, Sire. There is no rush. I cannot pretend to know what Omegas have gone through, sitting last for one meal is nothing to complain about comparatively." He offered with a small bow. "Though perhaps, if you allow me to examine some of the precautions you are taking for your own security I can assist in that area? I realize I may not be an Aide yet but my experience allows me some insight in the subject."

 Dean shook his head. “It is the legal side of it all. So no one can claim I ascended illegally. So Sammy can’t force me to abdicate. But thank you for offering Novak, it means a lot that you want to help.” Dean explained. “Plus, I need to find new Aides. My father made them all swear an oath to him rather than the chair. The ones that haven’t retired, are still in the job out of the kindness of their hearts.” Dean sighed. “And the longer I make them wait to retire, the more restless they grow.” He sighed, forgetting himself and his surroundings

 Castiel nodded as he listened, knowing the way to the barracks by heart. “I see.” He mumbled softly. “How many would you prefer to have, Sire?” He asked curiously. “Have you given much thought to your brother?” He added remembering the mention of the younger Winchester when they had first interacted with one another. “If I may, Your Majesty, I still feel as if he would make a wonderful Advisor or Aide. It may not be traditional but… neither is an Omega. Perhaps he would be interested in the position... Though I do realize he has a different profession currently.”

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

[little-owly]

here ya go!! hope you don’t mind but i made him wet towards the end :3c

for anyone else waiting for their fic requests to be filled, pleeeeease be patient, thank yoooou :D

The urge first hit him while Wilford and Ed argued back and fourth. Their bickering droning on and on, neither side backing down.

“I told ya,” Ed argued, his smooth Southern voice aggravated, “time and time again I remind ya to put in my promised 30 seconds. But do ya? Nah, not one bit-”

Wilford sighed, frustration growing, “well, excuse me, Ed. But not everyone wants to see a commercial advertising child slavery-”

“My work is a damned and honest way of making ends meet! And for Christ’s sake, you killed some poor sons of a bitch nearly 3 times last time in your fancy game show.”

Dark only rolled his eyes. The ever subtle twitching in his lower abdomen catching him off guard again. His human form was still taking time to get use to. The daily chore of taking care of the humanly needs known as eating, drinking, and…and…? Dark struggled to remember the word for it. Dr. Ip//lier explaining it to him days after he took form in the shape of Mark permanently.

He was ripped from his thoughts as the same man he was thinking of spoke up. His white lab coat hiding his pale blue scrubs.

“If I may suggest giving Ed here a spot during my programming?”

“Oh shut it, you quack.” Wilfrod spat out. Clearly at his wits end with Ed, taking it out on the poor overworked doctor.

“Excuse me?” uttered Dr. Ip//lier. His normally bland tone being replaced with offense.

“What’s the big deal? Doc here offers me time on /his/ fancy medical show! Ya jealous there, Warfy?” Ed teased, turning to the other, “Doc, I’d be happy to take ya up on that offer.”

The urge grew in intensity. Enough for Dark to cross his legs, his foot tapping against the carpet floor of the conference room, as if helping to distract from the urge. The uncomfortable full feeling not paining him, but also not easy to ignore.

And for the (symbolic) life of him, he could not figure out the last need Dr. Iplier warned him to take care of.

Dark watched the meeting continue. Small arguments, the occasional agreement, and looking over this week’s programming. Surprisingly, Wilford let Bim host his show for him this week. Dark smirked, seeing the obviously proud Bim watch his performance on the screen – ready for it to air next Friday night.

“My calculations and data suggests this week’s taping may drop in ratings. Many viewers who tune in for our Friday primetime show only watch for Wilford’s violence,” Google brought up. His glitching tone ever present.

Bim’s face fell as he heard Google, “b-but, I tried so hard-”

“My calculations conclude you didn’t, since you have not caused great harm or death to a contestant.” Google droned on. Robotic, completely devoid in emotion, especially of those around him.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Ed spoke up, “this kid tried his hardest, he just wants to be the best host-”

“Host will look up from his spot and turn towards Ed, acknowledging his name being-”

“Not you, Bloody Mary” Ed interrupted.

“The Host will look back down. Now self conscious of his bloody bandages.”

“As I was saying, give the kid a chance. All those complicated computer datas and stuff is just a guess.” Ed finished. Bim softly smiling.

Google scoffed, “actually, Ed, my so called guesses are carefully calculated. I’ve studied the dynamics of our audience and-”

“Can he be shut off?!” Ed groaned, “why’s he even here?! The damn robot can hardly talk without messing up.”

Dark groaned quietly. The low noise staying in the back of his throat. The urge now hard to hide. He squirmed as secretly as he could. The full feeling pressing against his form’s abdomen. His bladder bulging out slightly. The full feeling tilting from uncomfortable to…pleasurable? Is that a normal reaction?

Dark groaned again, making a mental note to talk to Dr. Iplier after this meeting.

“Google, shut it. Ed, shut the fuck up” Wilford spoke up.

“Why did he get the kinder version of shut up?!”

“Because I actually tolerate him, unlike you.” Wilford replied. A sly grin plastered on his face as Ed glared.

Dark groaned once more, losing himself in the full feeling. Biting the inside of his cheek, he froze as he heard Wilford speak.

“Uh, you okay there, Dark? Awfully quiet except for the weird noises.”

Dark cursed quietly under his breath. How could he be so careless? How could you let his human form get the best of him?

“I’m fine. Please continue, Wil.”

Dr. Ip//lier quietly rolled his chair over to the end of the table. Beside Dark, seeing his crossed legs and hearing him groan.

“Dark?” he whispered, “have you attended to your needs? You’re not an entity, this form is…complex and has to have its needs met.”

Dark sighed, frustrated, “yes, I have, doctor. I am well aware of my form, now can you please go back to your seat?”

Dr. Ip//lier looked down, “forgive me for the interruption.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Understood.”

As the meeting droned on and on. More arguments, more bickering, and a total of one agreement. Dark continued to squirm in his seat, knees buckled together as he tried to keep his dignity together. Willing to sacrifice his comfort for his dignity, above all costs.

It wasn’t until he couldn’t help it. Squirming about in the leather seat, his hands looked as if they were settled on his lap, but in reality – both hands were holding his cock. Hoping the full feeling goes away, hoping he can get by with the last 5 minutes of the meeting, hoping he can make it to Dr. Ip//lier in one piece to get to the bottom of his new found condition.

The underlying pleasure of holding in…whatever was inside him made Dark bite his lip. Trying to remain as normal as he could. Only moving when all attention was on Wilford.

“Okay, we all have our scheduling in order?”

“The Host will raise his hand, his voice deep and smooth as he asks if his show is still included for the 12 A.M. slot,” Host interrupted, doing as he said.

“Ah shit,” Wilford muttered, “okay. Give us a quick overview of what you’re discussing tomorrow night.”

“The Host will retrieve from his book bag his manuscript for his latest horror work,” he said, pulling out the thick stack of pages.

Dark growled. His freedom to relieve his problem now minutes away. His legs began to give out. His bladder throbbing in sync with his squirming, desperate for…something. Desperate to relive something within himself. Dark bit his lip once more, eyes closing shut.

He needed Dr. Ip//lier to explain, and now.

Dark bit back as gasp as it happened. Breathing heavily through his nose, ignoring the conversation around him. The warm liquid spilling out of Dark to settle under his seat and down his legs. It rushed down his legs in a strong stream, wetting the black pants he wore with his suit, puddling under the seat of his pants. The warm liquid making him relax more and more as the full feeling faded away.

“…what’s that leaking sound?” Bim asked quietly. The Host moving his head to find the source.

“The Host agrees there is a sound, and has trouble locating it. He will turn to his left to ask Mr. Trimmer if he has found the source.”

Dark finally ended his ordeal. The last spurts of his…whatever, leaking out. Relief filling him. The fullness feeling finally gone.

Dr. Ip//lier took one look at the end of the table before clearing his throat to catch the attention of everyone.

“I think we’re done here, right Wilford?”

“Sure,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, “next meeting is on Thursday. Try to make it in time, Ed.”

Ed was about to stand up and argue before Bim stopped him, “its not worth it,” he added. Giving a soft smile to Ed, calming him down.

The conference room quickly became empty – save for Dr. Ip//lier and an irritated Dark. His teeth grit as he moved around, wet pants sticking to his skin.

Dr. Ip//lier made his way to Dark, the other turning to face him.

“W-what the hell is this?!”

“For a dark entity, you sure do forget things easily,” the doctor sighed.

“What did I-”

“Don’t you remember the needs of the human body, Dark? Eating, drinking, and disposal of bodily fluids. What you just did is urinate.”

Dark looked down at his damp lap as the doctor helped him stand from the wet seat.

Hmm.

So thats what the last need was.