#the fact this took 19 hours and I did that in two sittings speaks volumes about what Astarion Gale and Bloodweave are doing to me

[yaoiconnoisseur]

Turns out I am not immune to Twitter trends

[flowerfan2]

Private Time

I’ve been reading and writing (and living with) so much angst lately, I decided to indulge in some silly, sexy funtimes with a fandom I haven’t visited in a while.  Enjoy.

Klaine, 2k, A03.

Summary:  Living with his grad student roommates in quarantine, private time is hard to come by...

Blaine is generally very happy living in the somewhat rickety four-bedroom house he shares with three other grad students.  It’s not too far from school, it’s got a workable washer and dryer in the basement, and the kitchen was renovated sometime in the past twenty years so it’s perfectly adequate for making whatever quick meals he manages to scrounge together after class.

But boy, are the walls thin.

This hasn’t been a problem until recently, when COVID-19 struck.  School has gone online, but unlike the undergrads, Blaine and his roommates have a lease and all of them decided to endure the quarantine here in Somerville, Massachusetts rather than go home.  According to Kurt, Somerville may not be where he wants to end up, but it’s far better than the Midwest town he grew up in and he has no desire to weather the quarantine back in Lima.

Thanks to the quarantine, Blaine has learned this and many more facts about his flatmates  – and yes, they have all taken to calling it a flat, after an evening which started out with teasing Sam about how he likes to talk with a fake British accent turned into one of the most carefree nights Blaine has had in a long time.  Apparently all it took was a few bottles of cheap wine and a defrosted cheesecake from Star Market to loosen them all up.

 “We’re proper mates, now,” Sam had announced, waving his arms and nearly knocking over a lamp in the process.  By the time they had all wandered off to bed, Blaine had learned that Kurt’s favorite singer was Lady Gaga, that Rachel had taken a year off from school to film a television pilot, and that Sam played the guitar rather well, as long as it was country music.

 Blaine has liked Sam since they met playing intramural soccer in the fall.  So when Sam mentioned last month that they had a spare bedroom, Blaine quickly took him up on the offer.  Blaine’s previous apartment was lonely and smelled like something had died in the ceiling, so it was really a no brainer.

 What had caught Blaine by wonderful, wonderful surprise, however, was that Kurt Hummel was one of Sam’s roommates.  Blaine had seen Kurt perform in a production of Macbeth back in October, and had been mesmerized by the man’s performance.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that Kurt was a regular grad student just like he was, not until Sam gave him the tour of the house and Kurt waved to him from the kitchen where he was gossiping with Rachel over skinny margaritas.

 With just a smile and a nod and an agreement to take his turn putting out the trash, Blaine gained three roommates, including the guy he had been crushing on for months.  Not bad for a Wednesday.

 Much to Blaine’s dismay, simply moving into the house didn’t result in any quality time with Kurt. Between school and performances Kurt was hardly ever home, and Blaine’s schedule studying history and music theory was hardly better.  Since the stay at home order was put in place, however, it’s a whole new world. Now the four of them can hardly get away from each other.

 For the first two weeks of their enforced togetherness, everyone was on their best behavior, and the drama of it all gave them a shared sense of adventure.  Kurt sewed them all homemade masks, Blaine carefully organized grocery trips to minimize time in the stores, Sam tried to get them to adopt home fitness routines, and Rachel kept them apprised of the most interesting celebrity bits to watch on You Tube.

 But they are entering into week three of the quarantine, and the novelty is wearing off.  For one thing, Rachel has been getting more and more demanding about household details (she is constantly editing the chore wheel and claiming someone else did it), and while Kurt generally has acted as peacemaker when confronted with Rachel’s whims, even he seems to be getting tired of it. Sam hasn’t done his laundry at all since they got locked in, and Blaine is running out of hair gel.  Kurt has taken to cleaning the fridge so often that Rachel accused him of stealing cleaning supplies and rubber gloves from health care workers.

 They are all becoming short-tempered and irritable.  Blaine even catches himself snapping at Kurt, which is the last thing he wants to do. He’s worried that by the time the quarantine lifts, Kurt will never want to speak to him again, let alone date him.

 Blaine has a few tried and true strategies for when he gets like this, but none of them are working. Sam insists on running with him every time he goes out, and his well intentioned chatter prevents Blaine from finding any escape.  He can’t let off steam by boxing, because his gym is closed.  And as for the things he really knows would do the trick, especially after an afternoon of watching Kurt do ballet stretches in yoga pants, well… the walls of their apartment are very, very thin.

 Blaine knows this because Sam apparently feels no shame in indulging in his own solo activities. It’s easy to hear him, even from across the hall.  Given that Blaine’s bedroom shares a wall with Kurt’s, there’s no way Blaine’s going to risk Kurt hearing anything of the sort from Blaine’s room.

 Towards the end of the third week, Rachel calls a roommate meeting.  Blaine has just finished an endless zoom call with his research supervisor, and he feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his head if he doesn’t get his contacts out soon.  But Rachel insists, so they all gather in the sitting room, Sam and Blaine on the lumpy brown couch, and Kurt sitting on the edge of an armchair, looking to Blaine like he could be posing in a fashion magazine.

 “Thank you for coming,” Rachel begins, as if they had any real choice in the matter.  She launches into an overview of their past few roommate meetings, and brings up an excel spreadsheet on her computer, on which she has apparently made further edits to the chore wheel.

 Blaine tries not to be distracted by the way the asymmetrical neckline of Kurt’s cashmere sweater drapes over his collarbone when he leans forward to look at Rachel’s chart.

 “So I decided on Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays,” Rachel says, looking around the room for approval.   Blaine realizes he has lost the plot completely, but luckily he’s not the only one.

 “Wait, what?”  Sam asks.  Kurt has found a nail file somewhere and isn’t paying much attention either, but his mouth quirks up at little at Sam’s question, so he’s probably glad Sam is taking the blame for this one too.

 Rachel lets out a long suffering sigh, and places an Amazon box on the table.  “As I said, I haven’t been able to use the practice rooms for weeks now, and my vocal production is suffering.  I need to be able to focus properly on allowing my voice to soar over my accompaniment at its expected volume, without having to censor myself.”

 Sam still looks confused, and Rachel glares at him.  “I need to listen to loud music, and sing loudly, ok?  So I got these for all of us.”

 Sam frowns.  “I don’t mind if you sing, Rach.”

 Rachel’s hands clench at her sides.  “It’s not about you, it’s about me.”  Kurt coughs not indiscreetly into his hand, but Blaine doesn’t quite catch what he says. “I need you all to wear these, for an hour, three times a week.  I’ve clearly marked this as private time on our schedule, from 11 to midnight, Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.”

 “But what if-“

 “Sam, let it go,” Kurt says. “We’re all missing <I>private time</I> these days.”  Kurt stands up and smooths his hands down his skin tight jeans.  “It’s fine with me, Rachel.”

 Blaine stands up too, and peers into the box, then takes out a set of headphones.  They are high end noise-cancelling models, clearly expensive, and probably quite effective.  “These are great, Rachel.  Thanks. But you didn’t have to do this. I’m sure we could have worked something out so you could practice.”

 Rachel glares at him now too, and tosses her hair over her shoulder.  “I <i>have</i> worked it out.  

Private time commences at eleven o’clock on each designated night.  I expect you all to go to your rooms, and wear the headsets.  It’s the least we can do to help preserve our collective mental health during this trying time.  Do I have your agreement?”

 They all agree, and Rachel smirks, satisfied.  Blaine chalks it up to roommate harmony and sets about seeing what he can make for dinner out of tortillas, one cucumber, and three apples (answer:  nothing,  they eat frozen pizza).

 Later that evening, he and Sam are on the couch trying to find something to watch on Netflix. Suddenly Sam leans over and slaps Blaine on the shoulder.

 “Ow, Sam, what was that for?”

 “I know why Rachel got the headphones for us,” Sam announces, grinning crazily,  “It’s so she can have a wank!”

 Blaine attributes Sam’s ongoing affinity for British slang to the amount of Sherlock fanfic he’s been reading lately, but now really isn’t the time to get into it.

He reflexively starts to deny it, but then he realizes with a flush of embarrassment that Sam is probably right.  Sam watches his face and his grin gets even bigger.

 “She’s kind of a genius, isn’t she?”  Sam grabs a set of headphones and bounds away up the stairs.

 “Sam,” Blaine calls out, wanting to remind him that it’s Monday, and therefore no private time is scheduled.  Not that it’s stopped Sam before.

 The next night Rachel reminds them all after dinner that private time will begin precisely at eleven o’clock.  After a group viewing of the first episode of Deadwater Fell (during which Blaine divided his attention between watching David Tennant, watching Kurt, and watching Kurt watch David Tennant), Rachel checks the time on her phone and orders them all upstairs.  At five minutes to eleven, she screams “put your headphones on,” and slams the door to her bedroom.

 Blaine thinks this is all fairly ridiculous, but he puts on the headphones anyway, and settles on his bed with his laptop.  He surfs around for a while, finding clips of some noteworthy Shakespeare productions (okay, fine, it’s Benedict Cumberbatch playing Hamlet), but then his mind starts to wander. Being cooped up with his roommates has been… constraining… for him too, and maybe he should go ahead and take advantage of the private time Rachel has arranged for them.

 Blaine makes himself more comfortable and slides a hand down his body, wondering if his roommates are doing the same.  Wondering, especially, if Kurt is doing the same.  He unzips his fly and takes himself in hand, letting out a long sigh at the sensation – and then freezing when he hears himself.  Blaine quickly realizes that as he got comfortable on the bed, the headphones had slipped off his ears.

 And if he can hear himself, what if Kurt can hear him too?

 Any interest in solo activities leaves him in a flash, and Blaine quickly zips himself up and plants his feet on the floor.  He makes sure the headphones are properly situated on his ears, and spends the remaining twenty minutes of private time organizing his sock drawer.

 The next morning his roommates seem downright cheery, and Blaine starts to regret his nerves.  It would have been nice to get a little relief from the stress of quarantine, even at the risk of potential embarrassment. Maybe he just needs to be quieter, next time.

 Thursday night Blaine fluffs his pillows and arranges himself on the bed face down, so that any noise he makes will be muffled.  This turns out to be a brilliant idea, and he has quite a good time imagining that Kurt is underneath him, writhing and squirming and rutting against him, all long lines and warm skin.  It’s not a pillow stifling his cries, it’s Kurt’s wet mouth…

 When Blaine finally comes to, he feels a little guilty, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Maybe he’ll get through this quarantine after all.

[dorkyungsoowrites]

Spontaneous Attraction Ch. 19

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut | Ambiguous AU

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, cumplay

Word Count: 4k

Description: A late night phone call.

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"Thoughts?"

That was the caption you put under the message you sent to Kyungsoo. Two and a half painstaking weeks of mulling it over and discussing with your friend about Kyungsoo. She was moody about it. Sad at first, then ecstatic you were getting along so well, then upset again because her best friend was leaving her. You told her it wouldn't make you two any less close, but she knew better, and honestly you did too. That was the biggest hang-up. Your schedules were already so unsynchronized, and without the dusk and dawn chats you had every day it was going to be harder to see her. You talked it out logically with her.

"Answer with the first thing that comes to your head. Forget everything else," she had prompted. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," you grinned, laughing a little.

"Have you loved living with me?"

"Also obviously yes."

"If I were to say I wanted my partner to move in would you still be hesitating to go?"

"...no...not as much," you admitted.

"There. See? I want you to be happy, hun. Say yes to the handsome bastard. I've seen the way he looks at you when saying goodbye in the morning. I can get along fine alone honestly. I never really needed a roommate for rent purposes. You better visit often, but you're always welcome back."

That was that, really. You didn't have to worry about your friend, you had a good feeling about it. To top it off you held fast to your logic that if you have to debate on doing something or not for too long then you already know the answer. It's never failed you before. You agreed to move in with Kyungsoo. You weren't surprised when the timing was horrible. They were leaving on tour. For two months. Of course.

You chose to view the silver lining. It gave your current roommate time to transition, and gave you time to apartment hunt and plan out the details. That way when he returned you could check out the ones you liked best in person. Kyungsoo would exchange listings with you in his rare spare time. Typically while eating. He had been giddy at first, but for once you were the one pulling him back towards reality. He had never been apartment hunting before so the minutiae was lost on him. It took a week of you sending him links to better prospects for him to start grasping what to look for. Searching by area, price range for one bedroom versus two, were utilities included in that, is there laundry in the unit or in a separate communal area, was there designated parking spaces, etc, etc, blah blah blah. It was monotonous, but research was crucial to find a decent place so you weren't ripped off or stuck somewhere that turned out to be poorly managed. Been there. Not doing that again.

However, the aforementioned text had nothing to do with that. You decided you were missing him a little. A lot, actually. So you shot a short clip while wearing lingerie. It was meant to be a surprise for when he returned, but that went out the window rather quickly. It was all black, stockings held up by a thin, almost all sheer garter belt. The matching underwear and bra were decorated with lace. You liked this set when shopping because of the bit of optional flare you wore. A delicate, slightly elastic ribbon that circled your throat like a necklace. Only where the pendant usually sat on a necklace the ribbon continued in a straight line under your bra between your breasts to a small loop where it could be unhooked at the top of the thong. It gave the illusion everything was connected. So you pulled on one of Kyungsoo's shirts he left behind and set up your phone camera. You stood in front of a mirror, recording your hands gently gliding up your body while taking his shirt with it in the process. You swayed your hips and turned your torso slightly as well so it really showed off how good you looked. When the piece of clothing was close to your chin you giggled and dropped the material then stopped recording. It took you a few tries to get a video you were satisfied was sexy enough before sending it.

When your phone told you it sent successfully you changed back into regular pajamas. Kyungsoo would be performing so you didn't see a point to keeping it on. It took several hours for him to reply. By then it was the middle of the night and you were close to falling asleep when your phone began ringing. You pushed yourself up on a forearm, squinting at the bright screen when you picked up the phone from your nightstand. Upon seeing his name light up you wiped the fatigue from your eyes and flopped back on your pillow. You cleared your throat before answering so he didn't worry he was waking you up.

"Hey Kyungsoo." You did your best to sound cheerful. "How are you?" His deceptively mellow, deep, almost breathy voice sent chills along your skin.

"You know damn well how." He sounded far too calm for his biting words. "Did you think just because I'm busy with touring you could get away with teasing me like that? Do you understand how close the others were to seeing that video?" You smirked and replied innocently,

"It's been so long since you played with your pet. I was only letting you know I'm thinking about you." He sighed quietly into the receiver. "It's getting really hard to be good."

"I know it is, jagi. Only two more weeks."

"Did you at least like my outfit? I was going to surprise you, but I got excited."

"Of course," he answered flatly.

"What did you like about it?"

"Jagi, I have to be awake again in five hours. Can we please save this for when I come back?"

"I meant it when I sent that text," you complained. "I want to know what you thought when you saw the video." A long pause. You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously. There was a heavy click like a door shutting and fabric rustling on the other line.

"Use your imagination." How could he be so frustrating? It was an easy question. All he had to do was say you looked sexy. That's all you wanted. If he was going to be stubborn then you would just need to try harder.

"Okay then, I'm imagining you were on your hotel bed. You replayed the video a few times, but you couldn't stop yourself from getting turned on. After all it's been just as long for you unless you've been bad, and I looked sexy as hell." That earned a soft chuckle. The bright sound chimed in your ear and made your chest ache to be with him in person. "Maybe the tightness in your pants got too uncomfortable so you decided to call me to distract yourself. Although you said the other members almost saw it so maybe you were riding back to the hotel when you checked your messages. In that case I can see you blushing and trying to hide your phone. I wonder if you got hard and had to try and cover it up. You are adorable when you're flustered, sweetheart. You get all fidgety and giggly, and your face goes all red. I think you were so frustrated you tried to palm yourself a little bit and got caught. It would explain why you sounded so irritated when I picked up."

"That's some imagination," Kyungsoo breathed. "Totally wrong, but creative."

"Then tell me the real answer. Please?"

"You are something else," he muttered. "Alright, jagi. You want to know what really happened when I saw your message?"

"Please," you repeated.

"Junmyeon needed to borrow my phone because his ran out of charge, but when I saw your message I had to snatch it back and make up an excuse so he'd go away. On our way to the hotel I couldn't get you out of my head so I decided to call you when we arrived." He paused briefly. You thought that was the end so you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued at a lower volume. Slower; so that you heard every syllable clearly. "I kept imagining what it would be like to rip that little outfit off before fucking you until you lost your voice. It looked like you had on a fucking leash. I wanted to pull you down to your knees so you could fix the problem you made. The one thing you got right? I am currently sitting on the hotel bed."

"Alone?"

"Did you think I'd speak to you like this in front of the other members?"

"Not really, but you're making this so difficult." He took the bait.

"What is?" You trailed your fingertips down so your hand rested on your lower stomach.

"Trying not to touch myself while you talk." His breath hitched. You smiled triumphantly and settled back into your pillows. "You know how much I love your voice, Soo. It makes me want to misbehave."

"Don't you dare," he growled back. "Only I get to touch your pussy. And only you can touch my cock. I don't care how needy you get. Those are the rules, pet."

"Maybe I'm tired of your rules," you purred. It was the first time you were actually trying to shift the power dynamic. You'd disobeyed before for the fun of it, but you never took full control. Not being able to see him made you bolder it seems. And the fact it's been over a month since you were together. You might have been a bit desperate.

"How disappointing to hear. Don't you still want to make your sweetheart proud of how well you follow orders?"

"What's the harm if you're on the phone with me? You're still involved. Wouldn't you like to listen?" The gap of silence was too long. You slipped your fingers beneath your underwear and hissed softly at the sudden stimulation. A fire lit inside your gut, eyes falling closed. "I'm so wet already Soo," you sighed. His sweetness vanished, replaced with a huskiness that you've come to recognize as Kyungsoo trying to hide how his steely, calm composure was crumbling.

"Take your hand away," he ordered. "Do it now and apologize."

"No," you answered. You couldn't help the smile that formed at the thrill it gave you to hold some of the power. "I don't care anymore. This feels too good. Should I use my creative imagination to picture you're the one here touching me? Will hearing me moan your name make you realize how much I miss you? How much I miss those hands, and that mouth, and that gorgeous cock." You took a trembling breath, voice lowering to become raspier. "I miss the way you play with my pussy, master."

"Disobedient little brat," Kyungsoo gritted through his teeth. "You know how much I hate that name." You moaned happily.

"That's right, sweetheart. Tell me how bad I'm being. Scold me so I'll listen to you." A throaty groan hit your ears through the phone. You began pumping your fingers in and out of yourself, breath coming more shallow. It wasn't near as good as having his fingers. His were thicker than yours, soft from never building calluses playing guitar or working a more manual job, and they could reach deeper so they curled into just the right spot. You did, however, hold a very vivid imagination. So the pleasure you felt wasn't lacking. There was another rustle that came through the speaker paired with a huff of air.

"Fuck," he whispered. "How can you be so selfish? You don't think I'm just as frustrated? It would've been so easy to get off before now, but I wanted to save everything for you." His voice strained. "Only you."

"Are you touching yourself right now?" you teased. He moaned quietly, breathlessly. The phone speaker was thinning the sound through the static over the line. It was just a hair off from how his voice actually sounds like. It sent another jolt of heat through you, and you squirmed against the sheets, spreading your legs wider. "So much for sticking to the rules, huh Kyungsoo?"

"Shut up," he snapped. "You have no idea how hard I've been ever since that stupid video. Teasing me with that outfit and that pretty, perfect skin, waiting for me to mark it all over again. You couldn't have waited just a little bit longer. I think I've spoiled you too much. You need to learn better patience." He must have changed something he was doing because there was a small whimper that was cut off, voice snagging in his throat. You remembered he was in a hotel so he was probably trying to stay quiet. When he spoke again his pitch was higher, tone almost pleading. "It hurts." That was a problem you were glad to fix. You were getting closer, fingers speeding up a little as some of your muscles started tensing. You did your best to not sound as breathless as him.

"How are you on the bed?"

"Laying at the end. Feet on the floor," he panted. The new image of Kyungsoo in a hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, bucking his hips up into his hand, hair sticking to his forehead, was more than enough fuel. The fire in your gut stretched and spread.

"Close your eyes and picture I'm there. What would I do, Kyungsoo? How am I touching you?"

"You're teasing me through my boxers," he struggled to answer. "Hand running up and down my cock."

"Do you want more? Or are you going to keep being stubborn?"

"More."

"Put me on speaker and take off your pants," you exhaled shakily. The sound quality lessened, but somehow you were able to hear more. The a/c was rattling in the background. You heard the distinct sound of a zipper. He huffed and grunted softly while fabric scratched and wrinkled over the receiver. "Did you listen?"

"They're off," Kyungsoo sighed pleasantly.

"Take off your shirt, too." The break was shorter that time. He hummed in questioning, waiting. "Stroke your cock nice and slow for me, sweetheart."

"Fuck your hand feels good." He sounded winded already.

"Run the other hand up your side and play with your nipples." You moaned as you switched to circle your clit. "You're doing so good for me, sweetheart." A sharp intake of air overcame the static on his side.

"Shit. You're gonna make me cum too early."

"As long as I can hear it."

"You're so naughty today." You weren't sure if he was annoyed or aroused by that fact.

"I can't wait to see what punishment you'll give me."

"Plural," he replied. "Punishments."

"Tighten your grip and go faster. Then scratch at your skin and pull your hair." Your quick orders didn't disappoint. You knew how to exploit what he likes. He sucked in a trembling breath and whimpered. "Does that feel good? Do you like how I'm touching you?"

"P-please...it hurts so fucking bad."

"What hurts, Soo?"

"Y-you..." He started over. "I do. I hurt. All over. It's been too long. It's so difficult not to cum." He was attempting to say it without saying it. That just wouldn't do.

"Be direct, sweetheart, or else I won't understand how to make it better. Where does it hurt the most?"

"My cock. My fucking cock hurts and my thighs are burning. Is that enough?" he practically begged. "Pulling my hair isn't working. It's just making me want it harder." His breathing grew louder and more ragged, drowning out any other noises in the background. Kyungsoo groaned angrily. "I'm fucking lightheaded, sugar. It's so fucking hard and slick from my precum and you're fucking around to amuse yourself."

"That's right..." you pretended to recall. "You said you were saving yourself for me. Do you think now's a good time?"

"I'm so ready for you, jagi. So ready to make a fucking mess everywhere. Anywhere you want it. Fucking take it all I can't--say it. Please say it."

"You want to cum with me, sweetheart?" The only answer you got was a whine. "Cum on my stomach. Ruin my pretty, unmarked skin. Give me what I want, Kyungsoo." He choked out another, more depraved whine. His panting grew louder, catching on every inhale and exhaling quickly in an attempt to prevent being too noisy. He sounded wrecked and you drank it all in, admiring how easily you could make him like this when you tried. In between one of his gulps of air he whispered your name reverently. You felt it like a gentle caress across your cheek. Eyes shut, your mind conjured the tingling sensation of his breath down your neck as if he was beside you, and it pushed you over the edge. Your grip on the phone shook as you arched off the mattress, falling on the pillow by your head. Your moaning triggered his release. He sounded far away and muffled, groans fracturing and tapering off into tiny, simpering mewls while he worked all the pent up frustration from his body. You eased yourself down before putting the phone back to your ear, satisfaction settling in your bones. You called his name softly.

"Sugar," he crooned tiredly. His rough, rich voice made your stomach do flips. "Thank you."

"Do you feel better?" He simply moaned, still trying to catch his breath.

"You sounded really sexy. Fuck you're amazing." Finally, you thought. He called you sexy. "I tried to keep myself quiet by biting my arm, but it really stings. How do you put up with me?" You laughed softly. Rolling to your side, you reached out and grabbed a pillow to hug. It was dark, but since your eyes adjusted you could see clean across to the window on the opposite wall. No body to block your way hogging all the covers and constantly moving around in his sleep. A weight pressed on your chest, so you curled more in on yourself. You really were missing Kyungsoo more than you thought. But he didn't need to hear you mention it all the time. He couldn't do anything about it, and you wanted to be as supportive as possible.

"Is it as big of a mess as you thought?"

"Yeah," he replied. You heard the smile in his voice. "I missed this feeling." A small hum and an overexagerrated smack of lips. "You would love the taste."

"Fucking tease," you muttered.

"See? It would've been better if we had waited. Then you would be able to see me."

"You could take a picture."

"I'm not that simple, jagi."

"I can hear your smug smirk," you shot back, making him chuckle. "You should probably clean yourself up so you can get some rest." More rustling and you recognized the little moan he made while stretching. It sounded clearer. He must have taken you off speaker.

"In a minute."

"Whatever you say. Just don't neglect your sleep. I'll talk to you again soon."

"Wait. Hold on." It went silent for a solid minute or so before he called your name in questioning.

"Yeah?"

"Don't send any more videos. Please. I don't think I can take it."

"Alright. I promise. I'll wait until you come back."

"Good, because when this ends we all get four days off in a row, and I don't think we're leaving bed."

"Four days with just you? Sounds like heaven," you agreed.

"I can't wait to see you again, jagi."

"Same here. It's lonely without you."

"Don't worry. I'll be back soon, and then we can move somewhere where I can make sure you're never lonely."

"You're such a sentimental dork," you grinned. His chuckle chimed through the phone again. You halted your farewell when there was a muffled, shocked shout on the other end of the call. A door slammed shut.

"Fucking at least put a sign on the door or something!" a new voice grumbled. "Jesus christ, Soo. You're usually more discreet about this. Miss Y/N much? You look like a hot fucking mess. Here's a towel. You shower first."

"Sorry jagi," Kyungsoo said to you. "Jongin came back. I need to go."

"Th-that...s-she was..I'm so sorry," the other boy stumbled over his words. You could practically hear his face getting red. "Please tell her I'm sorry. I-I swear I didn't mean to interrupt. If I had known I-I never--"

"He's funny when he's embarrassed," you mused.

"She doesn't care," Kyungsoo relayed. "We're done anyway." You snickered at his candor. You loved how blunt he was. It was part of his charm. Then he was back to talking to you. "Goodnight, jagi. Rest well."

"Sweet dreams, Kyungsoo."

After hanging up you got a message from him. Tapping on the notification, a video was downloading. You played it and immediately thanked every entity in existence you were alone. Kyungsoo was zoomed in too far as usual, dark hair falling away from his face and jutting out in odd angles, forehead shining with perspiration. He had a full face of makeup on. You were taken aback at first. He almost didn't look like him. His tiny blemishes and moles were covered and smoothed out, contouring tricking the camera into making his cheeks appear thinner. Shimmering highlighter swept across his cheekbones, and his eyes were much more prominent on his face. A thin line of eyeliner and precisely applied eyeshadow was smoked out to bring out his natural eye shape. His lips looked glossy and pinker than usual as well. You didn't have a lot of time to take it in, but it wasn't bad. Just...unexpected. The camera zoomed out, and you bit your bottom lip hard. The frame cut off at his navel, but you swore you felt your heart stop working for several seconds. His entire chest and stomach was smattered with his release, angry red marks clawed into his flesh randomly from his short fingernails. One line of liquid by his ribs was cascading down his side about to stain the overstuffed white comforter on the hotel bed. He used his free hand, starting at the 'v' in his hips. The camera was unstable, but you caught the irritated horseshoe teeth marks on his forearm. The pads of his fingers dragged slowly up his torso, smearing a few of the erratic, crooked lines. Up his heavily rising and falling stomach, over a nipple all the way to his clavicle. Halfway up he stretched and arched his back towards the camera. Staring transfixed while his skin pulled taut over muscle and bone briefly, a trail near the bottom of the frame crept upwards before he eased back onto the bed. The white contrasted his tan skin in such a tantalizing way. It did not help in the least that Kyungsoo had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and was watching the camera. It was relaxed. Lazy almost, but the intimacy of it made it seem less pornographic. You were less lusting after him and more just in awe that he could do something like this at all. It was so outside his normal comfort zone. He must have been delirious from lack of sleep, you reasoned. As he brought his hand to his mouth, what had gathered dripped once on his chin before his tongue could go out and lick the stickiness from his fingers, an obscene moan falling past his lips. It was juxtaposed in his own perfectly strange way with those owlish, innocent eyes. They twinkled with amusement as his hand dropped tiredly onto his chest, uncaring of the steadily drying mess covering himself. He must have muted his mic to record this while you talked. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and the video ended. The message beneath:

"Thoughts?"

[hetalia-tlw]

Hetalia: The Lost World Part 19

"Alright, we made it to Duluth!" said America while Iyong ju checked into the hotel. "Yeah, we did. I can't believe it took us several stops in Iowa and in Rochester, before we made our through Minnesota" said Iyong ju after getting the card key for their room. After getting settled, Iyong ju was busy reading a book while America was watching tv. "Alfred, do you really need to have the tv up that loud? You do realize that there's people across the hallway and next door to us, right?" asked Iyong ju while looking up from his book. "Yeah, I do. But I really like this movie" said America. "Well, I am currently aware of it; but, there are people upstairs you know. So do me a favor and... turn it down NOW" said Iyong ju with venom in his voice.

"S-Sure thing, dude! I'm turning it down" said America before laughing nervously and began turning down the volume. While America and Iyong ju were doing their own separate things, it wasn't long till America got bored and decided to bother Iyong ju. "Umm... can I help you with something, Alfred?" asked Iyong ju who slightly flinched when America came close to him. "I'm just wondering what you're doing" said America with a smile. "Well I'm just looking at this American English dictionary that I found in this room" said Iyong ju. "Really now? But, I thought you can understand English" said America with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I do. But I learned the British English first, way before learning the American English" said Iyong ju. "American English? What is that?" asked America. "That's your version of English and I learned Arthur's version first before yours" said Iyong ju. "Oh, that's right. When Arthur was telling me stories about you, you sounded like a Brit" said America as Iyong ju sighed.  

~The Next Day~

"Wow! This is a great view of the lake" said Iyong ju while America looked pretty uneasy. "Umm.... Iyong, you do realize that we could go on the pier, right?" asked America. "Yeah, I know. But I prefer to look at something on the tallest peak around for a good view" said Iyong ju. "Of all the peaks you could've choose, you decided on a lighthouse" said America. "Well, I expected to have a better view on a mountain, but you wouldn't let me" said Iyong ju. "Oh, the reason why I couldn't allow it, is... that.... I'm kind of afraid of heights" said America nervously.

"If you're afraid of heights, how can you ride a roller coaster? That doesn't make any sense to me at all" said Iyong ju. "Well, you have a point and.... oh my god! We're late!" yelled America as his phone started buzzing. "Late? Late for what?" asked Iyong ju. "We're running really behind the clock to get to up to Canada" said America. "Then why are we standing here for? There's no time to waste" said Iyong ju. After leaving the lighthouse and checking out from the hotel, America and Iyong ju were making their way up to Canada.

After a couple of hours they finally reached the borderline between America and Canada. "Thank god, we made it to the borderline" said Iyong ju. "Yep, we sure did. I never knew you could be a fast driver" said America. "Alfred, there's a lot of things that you don't know about me, but you now learned I can go up to 90-100mph" said Iyong ju. "Hey! There's the toll" said America while pointing straight ahead. Iyong ju drove closer to the toll and expected someone to let him pass, but nobody was in the toll.

"Obama said that there will be someone at the toll" said America. "Yeah, but I don't everybody here" said Iyong ju before getting out of the car and going up to the toll booth. Iyong ju looked through the windows before jumping in surprise and forced the door to open. America who saw this quickly got out of the car to see what's wrong. "Iyong, I saw you jump and I just came to see what's wrong" said America. "Alfred, there is something wrong. Take a look" said Iyong ju before showing America what he found.

To America's surprise a person was in fact inside the toll booth only to be found unconscious. "I-Is... I-Is he okay?" asked America who was scared. "He's still breathing, which means he's not dead, but just unconscious" said Iyong ju while checking for a pulse. "Well, that's a relief. But what caused him to be knocked out?" asked America. Iyong ju looked at man's body to find anything till he found a large bruise on the side of head along with few bloody cuts on his forehead. "Alfred, you're not going to believe this, but I have feeling that we're not only ones going up to Canada" said Iyong ju. "You really think so? Who is it then?" asked America. "It's your 2P, Al" said Iyong ju as America's eyes widened in surprise and in shock.

~Meanwhile With Italy~

Italy was put in charge to look after Flavio for two hours, till Germany comes and take his place. Italy on the other hand wasn't made for keeping watch, but since Flavio attempted to steal the glassed rose and called him pathetic, he's not taking any chances. Italy was taking turns looking at the glassed rose for a couple of minutes before looking at Flavio for about the same amount as before. After looking at the glassed rose for a third time, Italy looks at Flavio for the fourth time. When he did, he saw Flavio twitch slightly, before waking up with quite the start. Flavio grasped out loud and shook his head several times, before he even noticed Italy was looking at him.

"Oh, it's-a just you. What-a happened after I-a blacked out? No no, hang on I-a remember. I-a was hit on the head, but I-a managed to overhear things before-a the darkness took me in. It was like I-a was constantly slipping back between consciousness and-a unconsciousness, like a never ending battle" said Flavio while sitting up. "I'm-a sorry" said Italy quietly to himself hoping that Flavio couldn't hear him, but he did. "Excuse me, what-a did you just say?" asked Flavio with concern in his voice. "N-Nothing! Y-You-a heard nothing" said Italy. "I-a swore I heard something. You-a better not be lying to me. I-a hate liars you know" said Flavio. "I'm-a here to say that-a I'm sorry for tackling you. I-a didn't know what-a came over me" said Italy.

"Nah, it's-a okay. Your anger was-a probably fueled thanks to your-a relationship with North Korea" said Flavio. "My-a anger wasn't caused by-a that. To be honest, I-a was always called weak since-a day one when I-a was living with Austria. But Hungary was-a always there to tell me that-a one day I'll become big and-a strong like grandpa Rome. Yet, I-a had very little fighting experience; but, Germany found-a me and he offered to become my-a friend. I-a look to Germany as my-a protecter, my friend who's-a got my back, my-a ally, and I-a just want him to come to my-a aid. I-a always do my best to train in-a case if Germany was-a in danger and-a could really use me" said Italy. "Italy, your-a story was so beautiful that-a it makes me shed tears of delight" said Flavio with a smile. "B-But, I-a thought 2Ps can't have a change-a of heart" said Italy who was confused on what Flavio said. "Ah, but that's-a where you're wrong. Some 2Ps were-a born from their good counterpart's deep and-a darkest moments of history, that-a was sealed away within their hearts. 2Ps have-a different personalities and they-a believe what they think. Some 2Ps can-a have a mean and scary personality, while others could be lonely or just-a be a complete opposite of the original" said Flavio. "That-a sounds interesting. But how-a does the process work and how can a 2P be friendly to their counterparts and-a everyone around them?" asked Italy.

"Well, it's-a not an easy process and-a it takes time. However, if there's-a someone who has a strong sense of compassion and a big heart to-a make the world happy, then a 2P could realize that-a there's no point to involve violence, yet to just-a talk out peacefully" said Flavio. "Wow! That-a sounds so fascinating; but, how do you-a know all of this?" asked Italy. "Unlike my-a 1P that comes across a person and has-a a mouthy attitude, I-a manage to have chill and a reasonable personality. I-a don't need to call a person a "something, something bastard", when I-a just can tell who you-a are by just looking at you" said Flavio. "Care-a to show me on how you-a can do that?" asked Italy while standing up. "Sure, but you-a need to get me out these ropes" said Flavio. Italy went over to Flavio and untied the ropes, as Flavio was free he stretched.

"Okay, now-a come over here" said Flavio as Italy went over to him. Flavio placed a hand on Italy's head, before closing his eyes as a sign of concentration. "Hmm... you are North Italy, the younger brother of-a South Italy. You're-a also known as Feliciano Vargas, but most people call you-a Feli. You are said by-a many to be a free spirited and a happy country to-a exist in this world. However, many-a believe that since you're-a too nice it leads to bullying from neighboring countries. But, you-a never have to worry about getting, because you have Germany and Japan on your-a side. You-a wish that you could protect yourself and your friends from any threat, so that's-a why you look up to stronger countries like-a Germany. You-a also wish for England to make peace to-a an old friend and to have everyone care about North Korea. Speaking of North Korea, he-a saved you from almost sudden death and you-a wish to protect him" said Flavio before opening his eyes and taking his hand off Italy's head. "All that-a stuff that you said about me is-a true. If England can't-a get along with Iyong ju, than that's-a a problem for him to solve. In the meantime, I'll-a be training to protect everyone that cares about me" said Italy with a smile. "That-a is correct. Since I-a told you what I-a believe about you, I'll be-a joining you and 1Ps in the fight against my-a fratello and the 2Ps" said Flavio. "Wait you-- are? But why-a are joining sides with the 1Ps?" asked Italy.

"That's-a because, Oliver and Roland aren't-a really that powerful to stop the rest of the 2Ps and-a I'm there for every single meeting that-a has be held, so I'll-a be sharing some top secret information that I-a found" said Flavio. Germany came into the room to switch places with Italy and he didn't notice Flavio. "Italy, I'm here to switch places vith jou" said Germany before his eyes met with Flavio's. "Italy, did jou untie zhe ropes zhat vere holding 2P Romano?" asked Germany. "He-a sure did! By the-a way, I thought I-a told you to call me Flavio" said Flavio. "Italy, are jou crazy!? Vhat vere jou zhinking!? Jou're lucky zhat I came just in time, before he could do anyzhing" said Germany. "No no, he's-a on our side" said Italy.

"Vhat do jou mean?" asked Germany who wasn't believing it. "I'm-a saying that, I-a managed to make Flavio friendly" said Italy with a smile. "Can jou ring me on zhis one more time?" asked Germany. "Ve~! Flavio says that-a he can tell what-a he thinks of you when he-a first sees you, without getting time to-a think about it" said Italy. "Oh, I get now. But how did jou manage to make him friendly to jou und to me?" asked Germany. "With my-a amazing and-a magical powers of happiness and-a friendship" said Italy. "Yeah, I can see vhy" said Germany.

~Meanwhile In Spain~

"Those bulls were a lot faster than I expected" said Spain who was resting after he ran with the bulls. "I believe zhat every year zhey get a bit more aggressive for zhese kind of events" said Austria. "I knew I shouldn't bet on somezhing I can't even win on" said Switzerland as Lichtenstein was offering him some water. "Zhat's vhy jou shouldn't bozher vith Antonio" said Lichtenstein. "Now that I managed to fight for my rights as champion, you may tell me why you came here" said Spain. "Vell, it's because ve recently got news from China" said Austria.

"What kind of news?" asked Spain. "We have gotten a report that mentions the 2Ps" said Hungary. "2Ps? Vhat are zhey?" asked Liechtenstein. "Ve're not sure exactly, but I saw mein 2P und England's at zhe UN headquarters" said Austria. "Jou did? Did zhey look anyzhing like zheir counterparts?" asked Switzerland. "Vell, mein 2P has darker hair zhan I do und he has red eyes, but unlike me he's a jerk. 2P England on zhe other hand, kind of freaks me out vith all zhe bright colors und just... how he sounds und looks in general" said Austria while looking back to his encounter with Roland and Oliver.

"Are they planning on doing something that could endanger anyone or anything?" asked Spain. "No, they're not. But it's the deadly ones that we should look out for" said Hungary. "I understand now. So then, what are we waiting for? We should go to that meeting then" said Spain. "He's right. Ve should go, but vhere is it going to be held at?" asked Switzerland. "It's going to held in Paris" said Hungary. "Alright, amigos. We're heading for the capital of the country of love. Why did I just say that? Anyway, let our journey begin" asked Spain.

~Meanwhile With Iyong ju And America~

Both Iyong ju and America managed to get through the toll and into the open road which leads them up to Canada. After about two to four hours, they finally reached their destination: Toronto. "We finally made it" said America while looking out the window to see the Toronto welcome sign. "Tell me about it. That was a long drive from Washington D.C up to Toronto" said Iyong ju while keeping up with the speed limit. "Say Iyong, how did you learn to drive?" asked America. "Well, at first I had little driving experience and the only way I learned was by driving a tank" said Iyong ju as America looked surprised. "Really? You got your driving skills from driving a large military tank?" asked America.

"Technically, I got my driving skills from driving a tank, steering a highly well built battleship, and a fighter jet" said Iyong ju as America was totally shocked. "No way. I don't know what to say about that" said America. "Oh, don't be. That fighter jet was like one of the fastest jet out of all of my country's jets. So clearly that jet was created for only me to use" said Iyong ju. "Okay, now I really got nothing to say" said America as he began to think about Iyong ju flying around in that jet. "It's okay, Alfred. I understand that you're confused, but I'm being honest with you here. If you want I could probably take you on a spin in that jet, but that's up to you if you're up for it" said Iyong ju with a smile. "Really? Thanks dude, you're amazing! I bet being that jet with you, would be so much fun" said Alfred who was excited.

~Meanwhile With China And Japan~

"Oh, you beaten me again! How's that even possible, aru?" asked China while losing to a game of Chinese checkers with Japan. "Werr, you did taught me how to pray and I ended up rosing to you many times. However, the tabres seem to have turned" said Japan while marking the scores. Without noticing France came into the room with a letter in his hands. "Francis, what are doing here, aru?" asked China. "I'm to tell you zat I need to go back to my country" said France. "For what reason?" asked Japan.

"Vell, I'm hosting a European Union meeting in Paris and you're invited" said France. "We would like to, but we're not even apart of the European Union, just the United Nations, aru" said China. "Yeah, I know zat. But since I'll be hosting ze meeting, I'm inviting every single country" said France with a smile. "Alright, we'rr come" said Japan as France left the room.

~Meanwhile In Paris~

South Korea was walking around with Vatican City in the capital of the country of love. "Alright, youngster, we're here" said Vatican City while stopping in front of two large doors of a large building. "Oh, we are? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. It's just, I haven't been in France for a longtime" said South Korea. "Yeah, I understand. Anyway, are you ready to go inside?" asked Vatican City. "Yes, I am ready. I'm tired of hiding, I just want to see everyone and see my brother" said South Korea while nodding his head. "Alright, here we go" said Vatican City while opening the doors and leading South Korea inside.

After walking through long hallways and taking different directions, they finally reached the doors to the meeting room. "Where is everybody?" asked South Korea while walking inside the large room. "They should be coming here in a little while. We're just early" said Vatican City. The doors suddenly opened getting the attention of both South Korea and Vatican City only to see Sealand. "Vatican City, what are you doing here?" asked Sealand as he came into the room. "I should be the one asking you that same question" said Vatican City.

"Oh my gosh! Is that South Korea? I thought North Korea killed him" said Sealand who was shocked to see South Korea. "Well he did, but I wasn't fully killed" said South Korea. "What do you mean?" asked Sealand. "How do I explain this? Well, I know deep down that my own brother would never kill me" said South Korea. "So did he attempt to kill you in order to protect you?" asked Sealand. "Well, he did protect me and he mainly did it to protect himself. However, it didn't go out so well" said South Korea.

"What are you doing here exactly?" asked Sealand. "I'm here to reunite with all of the countries and probably reunite with my brother" said South Korea. "That sounds amazing! Do you see me as a country?" asked Sealand. "Sealand, what have told you about asking that question?" asked Vatican City. "I'm sorry, but I need to know. Mr. South Korea, what is your opinion?" asked Sealand. "Well, I don't have an opinion; but, I can tell you that you should never stop believing and keep following your dreams" said South Korea with a smile. "So does that mean if I can continue believing, everyone will recognize me as a country?" asked Sealand. "If you believe in anything, then it's most likely to become true" said South Korea.

~Meanwhile~

"Kumajirou, I'm home and I got more syrup" said Canada who was just arriving back to his home. Canada walked in after closing the door and went to search for his polar bear friend; however, Kumajirou wasn't even seen. "Kumajirou where are you and why is it so dark in here? I don't remember leaving you behind with the blinds closed" said Canada who seemed confused yet scared at the same time. "Gosh, if Alfred is here then you should've told me before I left. Also if you two are trying to pull a prank on me make sure it involves sunlight" said Canada before walking up to a window and turn the blinds causing sunlight to pour into the room. While doing this to the other windows, Canada heard something along with a couple of muffled voices. "Kumajirou? Is... is everything alright?" asked Canada who grew concerned about his small friend.

Canada went to another room and found nothing, so he went on a search in his house just to find Kumajirou. Canada was about to give up till he noticed a closed room and went up to the door. Canada then slowly turned the doorknob and carefully opened the door just to get a peak. Canada soon opens the door wide open and sees Kumajirou and was relieved. "Oh Kumajirou, you gave me quite a scare. For a minute there, I thought that something was wrong" said Canada while walking up to Kumajirou and picked him up in his arms. "And that's where you're wrong" said a voice that's sounds oddly familiar to his own.

Canada suddenly gets cold feet and slowly turns around to see himself but only wearing a Mountie uniform and had a long ponytail. "W-Who are you?" asked Canada who was terrified. "Hehe.... that's an easy one. I'm you, well your 2P, but you may call me Matt and I thought that you would know who I am" said Matt. Canada then remembers the meeting where England and Oliver gave out all the names of 2Ps including his. "What are you doing here and how did you get into my country?" asked Canada trying to sound brave. "Well... I was just strolling around till I remembered that I should see my coward of a 1P" said Matt with a smirk.

"Oh.... hey! Did you just call me a coward? I'm not one and besides what do you want from me?" asked Canada as the smirk on Matt's face became a sinister grin. "You know what, I've been always called a weirdo by the other 2Ps, till one day I had to step up my personality a bit and became a man in the process. I had to learn it the hard way that the real world isn't all that nice and kind to you" said Matt who got and began circling Canada like a hungry shark. "Wh-What do you mean?" asked Canada who gulped at how close his 2P was to him and what took by surprise was how his chin was grabbed by Matt. "What do I mean I hear you ask? I mean that Luciano will be so happy to see all the 1Ps dead so that he could take over and watch everyone and everything around the world suffer" said Matt while forcefully pulling Canada close to him, so close that his breathe is touching Canada's face. "L-Luciano?" asked Canada who now was scared and was about to have a nervous breakdown. "Yeah, you heard me right. Luciano had both me and Al come all the way to America and eventually Canada just to take control of your countries" said Matt while moving out of Canada's face but only to tighten his grip on him.

"Uhh... about that.... I didn't get to do a thing" said Al as Matt looked up and saw him just standing there. "What do you mean that you couldn't do a single thing?" asked Matt who seemed upset at Al for failing. "It's called my 1P being [beep]ing annoying as hell" grumbled Al. "How dare you? You had one job Al! What is wrong with you!?" asked Matt who was getting angry. "Uhh... Matt, weren't you holding your 1P just a few seconds ago?" asked Al as Matt looked at his hands to only see Canada gone. "HOW!? HOW DID HE ESCAPE!!!???" yelled Matt into the open air.

[canaryatlaw]

I’m surprisingly tired despite not having taken my sleep meds all that long ago, but I’m about ready to pass out now so this may be shorter than usual. Today was alright. I had my alarm set for 10:55, but instead woke up around 9:30 and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I got up and made some oatmeal and chilled out for a bit before getting ready to head to the DV courthouse. Commute was uneventful, got to the courthouse and almost immediately got dropped on a case from the morning shift that they weren’t gonna be able to finish, so I got dispatched to finish things up. We got all the paperwork done and ready to file by 1, but the clerk’s were on lunch and court was down till 2, so we had to wait for a while to file and then wait for them to process it. It was a pretty straightforward harassment case, she was filing against the father of her granddaughter (so would be son in law if they were married) who was living with her and just constantly being an abusive asshole and breaking stuff, so I wasn't terribly worried about the case. We got the paperwork back around 2:15 and headed up to court, and we were the second case heard, so that was good. Order got granted pretty quickly, so that’s always a win. This poor woman started crying once she got back to the gallery where we were waiting for the order to be finished processing, and I was just like rubbing her shoulder and telling her she did it, it was over now, we were gonna get him away. We went back down to the clinic and one of the attorneys spoke with her because the fact that he’s currently living in her house means she needs a police escort home in order to make sure he’s removed from the property without incident, so there was figuring all that stuff out. After that I was done case wise, so they had me do some filing with the clerk’s office, just running around gophering stuff, which I was happy to help out with. I ended up getting released around 3:15. Two days from now is the deadline to report all your pro bono hours, and since it took so long for me to get back to the clinic this semester I only managed a measly 19 hours, which leaves me 33 hours away from the 200 hour goal that gets me the award for reaching that amount. Part of me is like oh, just fudge it, but I feel like lying about pro bono hours is the kind of thing that’s gonna get me smitten, so I’m not gonna do that. I headed home, commute took forever, but I got there around 4:45. I was just gonna sit down to do some of my secured transactions reading for class tomorrow, and I got through about two pages before I got a message from my friend who runs the dctv podcast channel that Jes Macallan had been promoted to series regular for season 4 of Legends, so of course I then had an entire meltdown, but also needed to write an article about it for the podcast site, so I got a two line piece about it up right away so it would be there, then fleshed it out more and updated it. Obviously I’m super thrilled about this news. It looks like they’re going to keep Sara and Ava in a stable relationship, which is definitely something I would like to see. I’m somewhat sad to realize this probably increases the chances that they’re going to write Amaya off the show at the end of the season, because I absolutely adore Amaya, but it does seem like they were bringing her plot to an end anyway, I mean there’s only so long you can put off going back to 1942 and creating an epic legacy. So I’ll be sad to see that if it happens. I kinda hope she takes Nate with her in some form tbh, like I know she doesn’t stay with him long term but I wouldn’t mind if he disappeared lol. I also kinda think they’re gonna find a way to write Mick off, his writing this season has been so godawful and it’s like they just have no idea what to do with him, so I think it might be time for him to go. So I wrote the article and freaked out for a while, then moved to the living room with the intention of watching The Flash, only to discover they’re *still* not back, so I watched more Blindspot until Black Lightning was on. Dude, this show is so good. I love it. I loved the reactions of Anissa, Jennifer, and all the other students at the school to seeing Jefferson being carried out in handcuffs- like, the fact that teenage boys, of all people, were physically putting themselves between the police and the door just speaks volumes about how much he actually means to the school and community. It’s definitely not an every school thing that high school boys would line up in front of the door to protect their principal. So I really liked that detail. The scenes with Anissa running around with hologram Black Lightning was pretty damn cool, and again I loveddddd how everyone was just on the street cheering them on, like the reception they’ve had from their community has been so perfect, I absolutely love it. So yeah, liked the episode a lot. After I watched another episode of Blindspot, only two left now, then I’ll just have Riverdale to catch up with and I can start watching other shit (namely Jessica Jones season 2, Krypton, and Rise). I hung out and watched the news for a bit after that then started getting ready for bed, and that’s pretty much it. I guess this isn’t really short, but I mean, it definitely could’ve been longer. But on that note I’m going to end this here. Goodnight sweeties. Have a lovely night.

[alcoholicseraphim]

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Thirteen- Year II- Altruism Interred

Albus turned on his heel, whisking them away from their grim surroundings. When Hermione opened her eyes she found herself in Albus's office.

"Ariana?" Albus whispered, his voice hoarse and yet somehow hopeful. "Mother?"

The Ring was on his index finger, the other hand still resting on it. This was wrong.

He was visibly dying, hand first. Hermione stared in horror at the spreading curse for only a moment before lunging forward. "Take it off!" she shrieked, grabbing for his hand and attempting to wrestle it away from him. Gods, how had she forgotten?

Albus batted her hand away, surprisingly strong for such an old man. Hermione tripped over a side table and went down, dragging Albus with her by his sleeve. It was somewhat easier to handle his twisting now that he wasn't so much taller than she was, but he was still agile enough to keep her away.

The blackness disappeared under his robe.

In her momentary distraction Albus successfully elbowed her in the face. Hermione reeled back, clutching her bloody lip. In the absence of Hermione's offense, Albus was free to stare adoringly at something only he could see. His hands were closed tightly around the Ring.

She had no choice, not when time was such a factor. Slowly, carefully, Hermione fumbled for her wand and raised it. "Diffindo," she whispered, pulling on her meagre magic reserves and slashing as precisely as she could. It rose sluggishly, feeling somewhat like clogged sinuses, but her desperation gave it the tug it needed.

He screamed and screamed, his concentration broken and the specters gone. Hermione wasn't sure in all the bloody confusion how many fingers she'd cut off, but she saw the huge, ugly ring roll across the floor.

"I'm sorry," she told him, "but I had to. You'll agree that I had to. Just let me heal what I can, please. Please." He would not relinquish his fist, though his piercing sobs and screeches lessened in volume until they were mere whimpers.

The blackness crept out from beneath his other sleeve. She hadn't stopped its spread at all. In fact, it seemed to be getting faster. What could she do to help? What had Snape used? She didn't know! She'd researched, sure, but the method to stopping a deadly curse just wasn't something that anyone recorded in books. It was passed by word of mouth.

There was nothing. She wracked her brain, and there was nothing.

Albus's tiny sounds of pain choked off entirely. It had reached his lungs, Hermione guessed. Very soon it would reach his heart and his whole body would shrivel up and blacken.

Tears blurred her vision, which was a mercy. When the tears fell and she could see again she saw a mummy, a twisted corpse. It was shrinking before her eyes. He was already dead. There was nothing she could do.

She jumped and spun at the earbursting sound of the office door being blasted open. The last thing she saw was the red light of a Stupefy headed straight for her.

*|II8II|*

"Renervate."

Hermione awoke all at once. Around her were an assembly of wizards in Auror robes and with wands pointed at her face. They were in an unfamiliar room that Hermione could only assume was within the Ministry.

"State your name," a man drawled. Hermione turned and noticed him sitting on a wooden chair beside her cot, glaring impatiently and with a Quick Quotes quill poised at the ready. He looked young, but somehow gaunt and self-important. Very Percy-like.

He wanted her name. Of course he wanted her name. She'd been arrested, hadn't she? Albus had died right in front of her with no other witnesses, so naturally she was the prime suspect. The image of blackened flesh flashed through her mind, and dimly she registered the horror but it was like a vision through murky water. "Hermione Granger," she said, shoving the image, and the emotion, away.

"Date of Birth?"

"September 19, 1959." Her head ached, and those wands were still trained on her.

"Names of your parents or guardians?"

"None," Hermione gulped. How many Aurors were there, anyway? It was hard to focus. Ten, she thought. Maybe eleven. Nine?

The man leaned forward in his chair, to all observation trying to look into her soul. "How did you come to be in the office of Albus Dumbledore yesterday morning?" The quill scribbled in the air next to him, recording everything the man's senses were picking up.

Dread sank in her gut, anchoring her in place and turning her whole body into lead. She couldn't tell them. She couldn't tell her side of things without mentioning Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows and if there was one thing she knew, it was that only a select few could know of those. But she couldn't very well lie, either, since she had no doubt she had a lie detector spell set on her. So she took a deep breath and shut her mouth.

"Do you admit to killing Albus Dumbledore?"

In a way, she supposed she had, even if she hadn't meant to. She'd been unable to save him, and that might as well have been the same thing. "Yes," she whispered.

"Why?"

She said nothing.

"We're done here," he announced, obviously disgusted with her. "Take her away."

Invisible chains wrapped around her arms and wrists, and two Aurors on either side of her shoved their arms under her armpits and lifted her bodily onto her feet. The pressure hurt, but Hermione was positive they didn't care. She didn't resist when they led her out the door. She was too busy panicking. They were taking her to Azkaban.

Her limbs thrashed but no amount of strength could break through her bonds. She kicked her legs, aiming for the legs of the Aurors beside her. With a heavy sigh, one of them bound her feet as well. With no outlet for her growing hysteria she could only weep. Heaving breaths escaped her but would not return, and soon she felt faint. Her courage waned and she sagged, allowing tears to drip down her cheeks until her body could no longer spare the water. All the while she was ignored, her entourage dragging her along in complete silence.

An iron collar was fitted around her throat, and as soon as it settled heavily upon her collarbones Hermione found that sound was no longer possible. She couldn't cry out when she felt the tug of the Portkey or when she landed in a hard chair. She couldn't so much as gasp when one took her blood and pulled out a few strands of her hair.

She hadn't realized that she was unconscious until she woke up in a cell. There was a cot, a chamber pot, and a basin of water. She wore a striped uniform prison gown, made of what she could only assume was burlap. A very thin horizontal window covered the entire crease between the back wall and the ceiling, letting in dim daylight. As far as Hermione could tell, there was no other source of light. It was frigid and dark and smelled of mould and stagnant water. There was nothing she could do about it.

Hermione lay down on the cot and closed her eyes, determined not to let it drive her insane this early.

*|II8II|*

Undoubtedly the most unpleasant reintroduction to consciousness would have to be the involuntary reliving of the scene in Malfoy's Manor when she was eighteen. Not the experience itself, not completely, but she was forced to feel those emotions as vividly as she had then. The pain, the desperation, the visceral terror, but without the consolation of courage or purpose. Just pure horror. Pointless, meaningless, and yet real as it had ever been. The skin on her left forearm itched where her scars would have been.

The Dementor hovered by the bars of her cell, a skeletal hand reaching for her. It was so cold, so absolutely gelid, that Hermione thought her cells might freeze solid.

It was always cold here, she found. The Dementors would waft past Hermione's cell, leaving ice to form beneath her skin and bitterness to take hold inside her heart and mind.

Of course, she knew that the year would reset, same as before, but the doubts that pummeled her brain in her hours of solitude whispered that she would remain here forever, in the place where all was glacial and lonely. Perhaps, hissed the voices, it was a fluke, a one time thing, and now she had truly screwed herself over.

How could anyone stay here? How had Sirius managed to not go insane? Hagrid had only spent two months in this bloody prison and he'd looked near mad. And that was Hagrid, the gentle, simple giant. What about her? She'd done so much to deserve this, seen so much.

Was she insane? No, not yet. Close, though, too close. The symptoms were all there, objectively speaking, but she refused to believe that she'd been unhinged so easily, so soon.

How long had she been here so far? Weeks? Months? It was hard to tell. Hermione never saw sunlight anymore. Day and night were the same to her. The food slipped to her by the faceless wraiths were the only indication of time.

Sometimes she would hallucinate, on her really bad episodes. Harry appeared sometimes, glasses broken and taped, and would sit with her in her cell until she blinked one time too many and he was gone. Ron didn't appear as often, but he talked to her. Sometimes he would stroke her hair and say that the queen is the most powerful player on the board, and sometimes he would laugh in her face and call her a nightmare.

"Where are your friends, Hermione? You thought you had some, didn't you? You delusional little know-it-all." He would grab her chin and force her to look at him. His nails dug in when she tried to close her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she would shriek, unable to find the words to defend herself or even make sense of what she was being blamed for. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't fix it, Granger. How many people are dead because of you? Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" Ron's face was right there in front of hers, not giving her any chance to look away from him. Merlin, he looked so young... eleven years old was a long time ago, wasn't it?

"Because of me?" Eleven years. What about her? How old was she? Too old to make mistakes. Too old to be blameless. Too young to be faultless. Too young to be wise.

That cruel expression was nothing like the Ron she knew. Or was it? Hermione couldn't remember anymore.

"Yes, Granger, keep up." He sounded like a parody of Draco when they were younger, and the thought of that blonde little boy brought some clarity back to her.

Draco and Harry had somehow gotten ridiculously close in such a short period of time. More than likely that helped Draco along on the path of good. It was hard to resist Harry once he'd gotten under your skin, after all. They'd both been so happy. Harry seemed almost whole again after losing Ron. Draco was in love with him, Hermione knew, but Harry was devoted entirely to Ginny. Draco minded, though he claimed to her that he didn't.

Because love makes people selfless and stupid, Draco stuck his neck out for them. Mostly for Harry, though. He took them in and protected them and he was slaughtered for it by his uncle. Harry and Hermione were already gone, to challenge Voldemort. She'd listened to Harry and Draco have a row. Harry was in a blind rage over Ginny's death, and Draco covered his jealousy with concern. Well, he was right. It had been bloody moronic to go after the Half-Man. Draco was asleep when they left.

To the best of Hermione's knowledge, he hadn't survived the night. Poor little boy. Love creates fools, and Draco just happened to be a dead fool. Like Harry, and Ron, and Remus, and Tonks, and Fred and-

And then she would blink and the cell would be back to normal, just her and her dissipating sanity.

Harry and Ron were the main characters, but some others would appear, too. Fred and George were frequent visitors as well, white beards tucked into their belts to mimic Dumbledore's.

"Well, Hermione-"

"-you fucked this one up."

"How did you-"

"-get in here?"

Hermione would look up at them with blank eyes and whisper, "I don't know. How do I get out?"

They never answered. Sometimes they laughed. Sometimes they just left.

Dementors eventually started stopping at her cell for minutes at a time, just staring at her under their hoods and leaving her shaking uncontrollably. She had less to give, so little happiness left, why would they show more interest in her? They were gone, just gone, and no amount of searching would bring them back.

She remembered how Hagrid looked when he came back from Azkaban. Haunted, empty eyes... was that how she looked? Would a guard pass through and look at her wild hair and twisted expression and think her just another one of the prisoners?

Was that what she was?

Was that what she always was?

Maybe she was insane. Maybe it was always there, just under the surface, buried in joy both real and imagined. She didn't know what to hope for.

Harry sat beside her and leaned on her shoulder. Hermione put her arm around him, taking comfort in his presence.

Time ran in centuries. Hermione was almost certain of this.

Count doubles. 2. 4. 16. 256. 65,536. Four... four billion two hundred ninety-four... something. Start over. 4,294,967,296. She clawed it out on the back of her hand to check her work.

She scratched primitive art into her skin to pass the time. There was actually quite a bit of room if she worked small. As soon as she was good enough, she would start on the walls. Her fingernails were bloody and raw, and at some point she noticed how much better her art looked using her natural crimson paint as a medium.

Her skin stung all over, sometimes keeping her awake, but Hermione quickly became accustomed to it. The beauty of her designs were well worth the pain.

What was a little more pain, anyway? She would never get out of here. Her whole world was pain now; she might as well enjoy it.

My name is Hermione Granger.

My name is Hermione Granger.

My name is Hermione-

No.

Why didn't she think of this before? Her last name was the only thing stopping her from being a pureblood, at least to the world. Who could she be? Miss Granger was someone else, anyway. Maybe she hadn't been Miss Granger for a while now.

She was just Hermione now. A lot of research would be necessary to find out which family she should belong to, and that meant she needed to find a library.

And just like that, Hermione had a purpose again. It may not have been much, but it was enough to throw herself into plan after plan to get out of that torturous place.

Dementors didn't stop at her cell anymore. She didn't even feel much of a shiver when they passed by anymore. Was it possible to develop a tolerance for Dementors?

Never mind that. How was she going to be free?

*|II8II|*

She was slowly, grudgingly accepting that there was no way. The only kinds of magic not prevented by the wards were those involving the soul, or the mind. Like Animagus transformation, or Metamorphmagus transfiguration- pretty much any magic that was intrinsic to the person, or would work without a wand. Hermione had never had the time to devote to becoming an Animagus, since it involved nearly full focus for years. She wasn't a Metamorphmagus, or a touch healer, or anything else. Even if she could use her magic, she would hardly be able to produce an Alohomora, much less anything more complex.

And with no ability to research, she was completely buggered.

She'd felt helpless before, but not like this. When she was trying to cope with Minerva's death, she had books to comfort her. There was knowledge there, knowledge that would prevent her from ever feeling so helpless again. But here she was, a man's death on her conscience and this time with no way to research. Nothing but her own memories.

Her body hardly even felt real anymore.

Some nights- it was always night- memories would consume her.

Her mother, blinking at her daughter making the grass grow tall around her in a matter of seconds. "Hermione, this talent of yours is lovely, but other people won't think so. Imagine if Mrs Coleridge were to find out." Mrs Coleridge was her next door neighbor and she was a right harpy, always nagging on Hermione's hair and her penchant for reading and her overall lack of social skills. If she were to learn about Hermione's magic, there would be no end of it. She might even call the police, after informing the whole neighborhood.

"All right," she'd say, pushing herself to her feet and stepping onto the sidewalk.

Her father, smiling way too happily as he hugged her goodbye. Watching him turn away before the train had even left. Watching her mother stare just a moment longer before she turned away, too.

Listening to her mother sobbing about her in the next room, crying about how she just wanted a normal child. Her father agreeing.

The permeating angry parasite of stony shame, bleeding out onto her pillow and being soaked back up by morning. Glaring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking harsh words, screaming them. It's not my fault. It's not my fault you wanted to have me. It's not my fault I was born this way. It's not my fault you're disappointed. It's not my fault.

But then she'd wake up in the morning just so utterly tired.

She felt every emotion from back then. The bitterness, mostly, and the muted yet persistent love. They were so happy in Australia. So much happier never to have had a daughter at all, and especially not her. They were so in love, it hurt to look.

And now those things that made them proud of her were disintegrating in little dust clouds. In prison for murder. It was best that they would never know.

Had she ever been fully accepted? Fully wanted? She was no longer sure. She could no longer remember.

Most of the memories were from before she'd ever known about Hogwarts, but there were plenty from after Harry's death. Many were vague, such as reading in the newspaper of the recapture of Hogwarts, of children shivering in a guest bed with werewolf bites days before the full moon, of the sound of a man's last breath. Of the silence under Minerva's rib cage, and the grimace petrified on her face. Of being two wizards, one a little girl and one an old man, against an army. Of being helpless and useless. Of struggling from one meal to the next, of never quite being warm.

Then there were those from the past year. Of Sirius's laugh and Lily's smile. Of Sirius clasping her hands in his wrists and begging for her to tell him what was wrong. Of turning away from the purest thing she had. Of Sirius's silhouette on the cracked floor in the corridor.

That scene turned in her head over and over. Waking up and seeing him dead. Of being helpless and useless.

It was clear now that she'd loved him, and that was possibly the worst part.

He'd been tortured by his family by now. He'd run away to James's house, just like he was supposed to. She hoped his suffering would be over for a while. This time she would not be the cause of his death. This time she was locked away. A danger to the world, she was.

If what Keane had told her was true, then she could give Aberforth the credit for all this. Hermione supposed she was paying the price for it. And for her own decision to play the mastermind. Then again, she knew she would never be able to just sit and let things happen. It may be merely the will of a fallible human man but it was still an opportunity, and an opportunity she couldn't bring herself to waste.

Self-mutilation would do her no good. In the moments between the visits of the Dementors, Hermione retreated into her mind. Even a Squib could practice Occlumency, and for all intents and purposes that's what she was. Perhaps this way she could save herself, even just a little bit.

The turning point was when a man was tossed into the cell opposite hers. He was close enough that they could talk, but she quickly discovered that he was a miserable, cowardly cockroach of a wizard.

There were, however, other uses for such people.

Her Occlumency was improving rapidly, but it's complement was sadly lacking in her. Legilimency, a skill with infinite uses, mastered by only just over a dozen people worldwide. At least, that's what the registers said. There were fewer Legilimens than there were Animagi! She knew the basics of it, yes, but she could never bring herself to practice regularly on anyone.

This man could hardly be called a "person", she decided. It didn't count.

"Come talk to me," she'd croon as best as she could with her ruined throat. "Come look at me, Titus. I'm lonely."

And he would scramble forward, stretching out a hand through the bars although he would never be able to reach her. "I'm here, Hermione, I'm here."

Of course he was there. Where else would he be? And so she would dive into his mind, picking through his thoughts and memories. Sometimes she whispered, sometimes she bludgeoned. Sometimes she healed the damage and sometimes she would rend him. That was one thing, a very interesting, entertaining, useful thing, but her true discovery came some months later.

She called it hybrid-Legilimency. The art of Legilimency could only view or manipulate, technically, the structure, the past and present, of the mind. It wasn't enough. Learning, as lovely as it was, was as a finite as the resource. If one could manipulate the future of the mind, the possibilities would be endless.

That's the object of the Imperius- sort of. The Imperius hardly even touches the mind, except to pacify it. It's a form of forced hypnotism, where nothing about it is voluntary and personal morals have nothing at all to do with it. If, however, one could work directly on the mind, change the morals themselves...

She could mould a person into anything she wanted. Anything at all.

Hermione discovered it on accident. It was a bad day among bad days, and her sanity seemed to be locked in a cell farther away where she couldn't reach it. Beat your head against the walls, she projected. You want to. You've wanted to for ages. It's better to be dead than to be in here. She hadn't even really realized that she'd done it until the cockroach sent her a yellowed grin and slammed his head back into the wall behind him. And then again. And again.

And she watched. She watched until his brain stopped functioning altogether. She watched until he died.

Later she regretted destroying her project, but it couldn't be helped.

There was little option for then except to wait. Perhaps the gods would smile upon her, and bring her back to the start again.

(A/N) There's a one shot I wrote called At a Loss that connects to this. It wasn't the original plan, but I think it works out well.