#are people scared that they’re going to smell too masculine or feminine

[deathmcth-archived]

@phantasmaw​ asked: what's something that would put ayalon out of the mood? what about something he's unsure of trying? conversely, what's something that immediately gets him turned on? any favorite positions or toys?

          it’s hard to give a definite answer to what puts him out of the mood! what he likes and doesn’t like changes pretty rapidly by the day, but anything with bad hygiene has been a pretty constant one. In terms of like, smelling bad or just not taking care of yourself like you should LKJHDFK because he does like blood. and that could be seen as unhygienic to other people. sometimes being called ‘daddy’ or ‘mommy’ would get him out of the mood. like he’s pretty indifferent to the kink itself, but there’s definitely times where it’d put him out.

       just being used for sex is another big one that turns him off. he’s a masochist and likes to be degraded, sure. but if his partner were to actually be serious and tells him they’re just in it for his dick/pussy, he’s gonna snap their neck. he’s got trauma :( he doesnt know it but he has it 

           he is a little unsure about having sex while in his actual form. He’s done it before, but it’s strictly been with other Gods. so he’s uncertain how it’d be with people who aren’t Gods. he doesnt want to scare anyone out of the mood, or accidentally kill them during it LKJDKFH LIKE. his true form can cause a lot of mishaps by just being around it! so he’d really have to think it through and also find a way for things to work out if he doesnt want to cause any horrible accidents. he could literally suck the soul out of someone’s dick. 

           masculinity, dominance, someone who challenges him head on- he gets pretty hot and bothered by all of it! he doesn’t really like outright disrespect, at least not something that he can’t laugh a little bit at. but he likes someone who’s fiery, who has a very bold and distinct personality, and someone who isn’t meek. while he  can appreciate quieter, softer and more feminine personality types, it’s harder for him to feel attraction to it. what he likes is someone in control, either so he can take that control away from them (consensually of course!), or because a God doesn’t wanna always be the boss all the time. 

            ok unsurprisingly he loves the mating press, whether he be receiving or giving. he also likes it when someone is holding his head down or pulling his hair while they go at it from behind LKDJFH and even going at it by laying on the side is pretty nice.. he wouldn’t mind being picked up but he also knows he’s a pretty big dude. he doesn’t expect anyone to even attempt it. but when he’s topping, he likes it when someone rides him! he likes seeing how worked up they can get and how easy it is to tell how desperate they are by how they ride him. he also likes the Head Down, Ass Up position, or when he’s standing up and the only thing holding his partner up is the grip he has on their hips. anything that makes it easy to bite his partner is always a plus too! 

        ayalon hasn’t really used toys! he probably has a few dildos, but they go pretty untouched. his sex drive has decreased the older he gets, and he doesn’t really get in the mood anymore UNLESS he’s with someone or that sort of dynamic is developing between him and someone else. toys can leave him pretty unsatisfied .. he’s romantic, he likes the feel of someone touching him 

#phantasmaw #NSFW; #( .HEADCANON. ) 𝔄𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔷𝔬𝔫 .⊱ #( .ASKS. ) 𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 .⊱ #hi i am so sweepy ... take this #it's still sunday somewhere

[peppermintspider]

When I was little I didn’t understand the point in gendered things (still don’t), so my little 6 year old brain decided that the reason why things like shampoo and clothes are gendered is because they dictate your gender. So little me thought that if a boy were to wear "girls" clothing for enough time then he’d become a girl. I can’t really tell if this idea is from a worse or better timeline.

#looking back it’s glaringly obvious that I’ve always been nonbinary #i really don’t know how it took me so long to come to that conclusion #also things being made for a specific gender is so stupid #clothes are clothes #shampoo is shampoo #are people scared that they’re going to smell too masculine or feminine??? #for gods sake just wear and use what makes you happy

[fuck-mygayisshowing]

It's my belief that Steve has gone into his mother's closet before and worn her high heels. He's definitely not good at it at first, his feet are at a weird angle, and he's not the most coordinated. Once he realizes no one's going to walk in on him and call him out, he puts his mother's heels on more often. It gives him a boost of confidence when he wears them, and eventually, he drives out to the city to buy some in his size. He gets other stuff to, and tells the cashier they're gifts for his mom. The excitement that runs through his veins when he puts on the heels and they fit perfectly is indescribable.

He takes to wearing his heels around the house whenever he's alone, and he's even gone through his mother's makeup and dresses. His eyes are so hooded, that he doesn't really use eyeshadow, but lipstick has definitely been added to his favorites list. It (along with the right dress) makes him feel like one of the well dressed, slightly cold but seductive, female leads of a Hitchcock film. He continues to fuel this depraved fantasy over the years, driving hours away to buy a floral perfume, buying books on dressmaking so he can alter ones he steals from his mom or buys to flatter his figure.

The most he's explored this side of him in public is his feminine smelling shampoo, and occasionally wearing nylons under his pants when he knows he won't need to change. He doesn't wear the nylons often though, the texture can get a bit uncomfortable, and they're almost always too tight.

He almost outed himself by using Carol's perfume one time that he was hanging out with her and Tommy, but thankfully they were all too drunk to give a damn. When Billy turns up, he becomes more self conscious of it, because Billy seems to find every opportunity to get in his face.

Tommy and Billy find out one Saturday when they go to Steve's house uninvited to scare him or something based on teenage hormones. Tommy has a key to Steve's house, so he lets himself and Billy inside and they find Steve in the kitchen making lunch. He's dressed in a sort of '50s inspired dress that has a subtle pattern on it, and is wearing his favorite red lipstick and black heels. To say Steve jumped out of his skin when he sees the other boys is a fucking understatement.

There's some panicked yelling, and some gay panic from all three of them before Steve gets a brilliant idea. Well, maybe not brilliant, this is Steve we're talking about. He has enough forethought to have them go first up the stairs at least, and only takes point to guide them to his parents' room.

Finding a dress for Tommy was the easier task, he has a slimmer build, and he has the proper height to fit into his mom's dresses. Billy was a bit harder, but he eventually finds a dress that has a matching capelet to hide the open zipper in the back. Steve then manages to get the boys into some heels of their own, but decides to skip out on the makeup, he's already towing a dangerous line.

When Billy stumbles it's amusing as hell. The Californian takes heavy steps and likes to lead with his heel, so while his balance is good, it's definitely not at it's best. Tommy manages to fare a bit better. No that's a lie, he falls on his ass when he tries to take the smallest steps possible and ends up tripping himself. Steve helps Tommy up, and the shorter boy clings to anything in his reach to stabilize himself.

Steve expects this to be a one time thing, they saw him in a vulnerable state, and he got to shove their masculinity up their asses by making them join him. He definitely does not expect Tommy to pull him aside after school and ask for lessons on how to walk in heels. They manage to get a schedule going where Tommy meets Steve at his house and Steve teaches him. They even manage to progress to running in heels at one point, but Tommy falls on his face. The second big surprise is when Billy joins Tommy on one of his visits and proceeds to use his makeup.

When asked, Billy admits that he had a...friend in California who was good at makeup and he taught him a few tricks. Steve takes some time before asking for help with his own makeup, and it becomes a thing the three of them do. Every week they get together and just..ignore the masculine role they were assigned by society. Tommy asks Steve at one point if he's still a boy, or if he's a girl, and Steve doesn't have to think very hard, he's a man. A man that enjoys dressing in feminine things, but still a man.

When they all graduate, they start making plans to move into the city together. Where the people are slightly more accepting, or at least where rumours don't spread like fire. Steve's initially hesitant, but Tommy and Billy have become safety to him in a town where one small slip and you're dead. He trusts them, more than anyone. If he'd been told when he was shunned by the popular cliche that he would be the happiest he's ever been with his childhood best friend and the asshole that punched in his face, he would have laughed and walked away.

But the truth is there, he *is* the happiest he's ever been. And they're sticking together come hell or high water.

#this was longer than intended #I just let my fingers write what they wanted #it was really fun to write #It started as a small thought #now here we are #kegboys #stranger things #headcanons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy hagan #this is sorta a gift to a friend that's really into kegboys right now #i hope you like this J #fluff #i want art of this

[sleepychai-fics]

Road to Salvation ~ Chapter 4 - The Proposition

Inform me if I need to put in any warnings for this chapter. ALSO I'd like to apologise for the long break between chapters, life has been hectic and things got out of hand for a bit. Hopefully it wont happen a second time.

Word count: 5,472

Pronouns - Female

ALSO SHOUTOUT TO @doughnuts-5ever​ FOR BETA READING THIS ENTIRE SERIES. I KEEP FORGETTING TO ADD THIS SHOUTOUT CAUSE I POST THESE CHAPTERS AT 1 AM LIKE THE NIGHT OWL I AM. SO BIIIIIIG THANK YOU TO YOU BB, YOU MAKE THIS STORY MAKE SENSE WHEN MY BRAIN DONT

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in BNHA. However, there are many OC’s in this fic that I’ve created. These OC’s belong to me and are specifically created for this fic. 

However, Hajime Shinsou is NOT my oc. He is an oc created by Keiid, who used to have tumblr but now uses twitter. Please keep that in mind.

Feedback is appreciated!

Want to be part of the taglist? DM me or reply to this chapter!

“What do we know about this girl?” Tsukauchi flips open the folder full of papers in front of him, eyes darting across the pages briefly taking in the information.

Aizawa sighs, lifting up one of the papers and reading off of it. “She’s been seen as a vigilante on the streets for a little over two years now. How long she’s been on the streets in general is unknown. Her quirk involves moving objects through shadows. It’s believed she has other accomplices, however we don’t know for sure.” He ends by tossing the paper back in the folder.

Tsukauchi hums. “Is she the one we’re looking for?”

“I hope so.”

“What about her suspected accomplices?”

Aizawa takes out another piece of paper from a different folder. “Our informant tells us she lives with many other people on the streets. Rumors say that the group is the line between villains and heroes.” His tired eyes look over to the police officer. “We’re not sure how to interpret that.”

A groan leaves the officers lips as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll interview her once she wakes up. We can negotiate living conditions with her. Offer her the placement and training in exchange for her compliance and any requests she may ask.”

With a yawn, Aizawa nods. “What do you suspect she’ll ask for?”

“Not too sure. Despite what we have on her, she’s still unknown to us. Our data banks have nothing on her. It’d be your job to get to know her.”

Aizawa groans. “I know that. But I think Hisashi is more up to that task.”

Tsukauchi smiles. “I appreciate you doing this.”

“It was part of the deal. Whisper held up her end, now I need to hold up mine.”

“It’s a big task to hold up.”

Aizawa hums in agreeance. “That’s why I offered a trial period. If she proves worthy to be a hero, then I’ll make it a permanent deal.”

“Whisper has offered to ensure a steady supply of information on other underground personnel if you were to make it a full time deal.” Tsukauchi reminds him.

Aizawa nods. “Are you sure-”

An alarm blares loudly through the speakers, interrupting the two men and instantly raising them on high alert. The conference room doors slam open, a security guard standing at the entrance.

“I apologise for the interruption but she’s escaped her room!”

Aizawa stands up from his chair, almost knocking it over. “Do you know where she’s headed?”

“They report she’s just entering the cafeteria, possibly towards Ward E.”

The two men race out the door, following the guard as he races towards your direction.

~*~

Your senses come back slowly. First, it’s touch. Whatever room you’re in, it’s got a cold atmosphere to it. If you were conscious enough, you’d be clutching to your thin jacket. As the thought crosses your mind, you take note of the feeling of the fabric, definitely not the same kind of material as your jacket. But despite its foreignness, it holds you in strange comfort. However, the feeling doesn’t last long as your hearing starts to kick in.

Two voices - one feminine and the other masculine, speaking in a soft tone. Along with the voices, you hear a steady beeping sound. A heart monitor? You hear it pick up as the rest of your senses come to life. The pungent smell of sanitising chemicals invades your nostrils and has you scrunching your nose in response. One of the voices gasps and speaks to the other. Your eyes are heavy and your body urges you to return to the land of peaceful slumber, but with a strong will, you open your eyelids.

Everything is blurry. Patches of colours hover over your vision before flicking to a mixture of white shades. You hear things shuffle around and clang against metal, only making you work harder at your vision. In an attempt to clear your vision, you rapidly blink your eyes. However, a bright light shines into your eye and forces you to squint. In a burst of panicked adrenaline, you lash out.

From what you can comprehend, you throw out your fist, hitting the figure above you. Ignoring the scream of pain, you jump up out of what you suspect to be a bed and scamper across the floor. You trip into a wall and turn your body around to face the mess you seemed to have caused.

You shake your head and rub at your eyes in another attempt to clear your vision. As it begins to clear, the masculine voice speaks.

“Hey! Let’s calm down. There’s no need to be scared.” You focus on the person closest to you. His hair is a terrible mess of purple. A white coat lays over a blue shirt and brown pants. As your vision clears by the second, you recognise more of his facial features and you can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. His dark eyes stare at you earnestly, but it’s his eyebags that strike you with an eerie recognition.

You notice his hand cast behind him and you follow it to a woman in similar attire to him, laying on the ground. She has one hand propping her upper body up off the floor, while her other hand covers her lower face, blood seeping in between her fingers.

You return your sight to the man and attempt to speak, however it comes out raspy. After clearing your throat, you try again. “Who are you?”

The doctor responds calmly, making slow movements with his hands as he speaks. “My name is Hajime Shinsou. I know that this seems scary at the moment, but you need to trust that I won’t hurt you.” Shinsou attempts to take a step closer but retracts it as you push your body further against the wall. “You might recognise me, more so my son but let's face it, he’s practically a carbon copy of me.”

Your vision finally starts to clear, enough for you to make out specific features that you’ve definitely seen before. But he’s way too tall from what you can remember. “Why would I recognise you? Your son?”

The slight upturn of his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “A couple days ago, you saved my son from a group of gang members. It was by a karaoke restaurant. He has purple hair, just like me. He even has the same eyebags as me.” As Shinsou goes through his explanation, your memory begins to jog.

“The… the gang. They uhm... they attacked a restaurant and took a kid hostage.” Shinsou nods. “I stopped them and saved the kid.”

“Yes. My son appreciates you. I do too.”

Alarming questions begin to spew in your mind. “How did you know it was me? Where am I? Why am I here?!” Each question grows more desperate as your (e/c) scan the entirety of the room. Thankfully you chose the wall close to the door.

“It’s okay. No one intends to harm you here.”

“Bullshit. Where am I?!” You argue back, glaring at him with irritation.

Shinsou continues to remain calm, despite the growing panic radiating off of you. “You’re in a hospital in northeast Tokyo.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as your eyes widen in shock. “Northeast?!”

With a nod, he responds carefully. “Yes. I understand you may be in shock. But I promise you that I don’t mean you any harm-”

“I want to leave.”

He sighs heavily. “I know, but I’m sorry to say I can’t allow-”

“I want to leave. NOW!” You scream this time, eyes brimming with tears you fight to extinguish. “I can’t be here, I have to leave this place.”

“Why don’t we just sit down and have a calm cha-”

“No! I can’t stay here! I have to leave!” You throw your hands out, intent on using your quirk to push back the doctor. But when that doesn’t work, you falter. “Wha… Why? What happened to my quirk?” A few stray tears slither down your face despite your best efforts. “What did you do to my quirk?!”

“We’ve injected you with quirk suppressants. It was protocol. I’m sorry.” You can hear his genuine apology, but you ignore it through your own raging emotions.

“I’m leaving.”

Hajime nods, knowing there’s nothing else he can do. “I understand. But you have to know I can’t let you go without calling it in.”

You shake your head. “I don’t care.” You leave him no breath to reply, walking towards the door. Before you leave, you snatch a spare white coat from a nearby hook and throw it over yourself.

As the door clicks behind you, you take a moment to assess your surroundings. A window down the hall shows an orange hued sky, although it's difficult to determine whether it’s dusk or dawn. A couple of doctors scatter the large hall, but they’re too busy looking down at clipboards to notice you. You waste no second more before walking down the hall, head tilted down to avoid arousal of your presence.

It’s so foreign, so clean and pristine. Tears are prepared to fall at any moment, but you fight against them. It’s exhausting and horrifying, it’s taking all of you not to bolt out the nearest window.

Every turn you take, every corridor you look down leads you to the belief that you're stuck in a labyrinth. It all looks the same. The room placements, the nurses, the machines littered here and there. Everything is almost the exact same and it scares the living shit out of you.

Finally, after what seems like hours of endless wandering, you come across two double doors. They appear to lead to another part of the hospital. You take a second to glance around you. There’s no other way to go besides through these doors, at least no other way you’ve been able to discover anyway. Without another second to hesitate, you go through the doors.

It’s similar to the place you just came from, except there are fewer private rooms and more public beds. They’re all aligned against the wall and separated by at least a couple of meters. Curtains hang between them, offering visual privacy. More nurses and doctors operate within the space, working with patients and running to various desks.

As you take in the scenery from the doors, you hear a voice call out from your left.

“Hey, are you-?”

You turn to look at the voice, and your heart drops. Realisation dawns on your face the second you notice the security badge. Unfortunately, the guard comes to his own realisation.

The guard opens his mouth wide, probably to yell out, but you don’t give him the chance to. With adrenaline behind your muscles, you push at his chest, forcing him to back into a moving cart. The noise alerts the entire area and within seconds it turns to chaos.

You take off in a sprint down the hall, leaving the sounds of screams and yells behind you. Each turn you come upon, you run to the wall and push yourself off of it, maintaining momentum in your run. As you take another turn, you throw a glance behind you. Security guards are close behind you, as well as a few men dressed in white coats, seemingly doctors aiding in the chase.

An alarm blares loudly throughout the hospital, red lights blinking slowly at every corner. You ignore them all, focused on improvising an escape plan.

As you turn another corner, you're faced with a set of double doors. With no other choice, apart from the army of men behind you, you barge through the doors.

You thank the high being that it's an open spaced cafeteria. More space to run, more visualisation, more shit to throw, and most importantly, fewer hallways to get lost in.

People scream and scatter out of their chairs as you vault over tables. Every chance you get, you flick trays and food behind you in an attempt to slow down those behind you. You make the quick and random decisions to leap over tables to either side of you, making it even harder for the chasers to predict your direction.

However, more men come from the opposite direction and appear a few tables before you. Without thinking, you pick up a tray of food and throw it at them. They throw their arms up to deflect the tray and in turn lose sight of you for just a second.

You take the opportunity to take a sharp turn in the other direction. Unfortunately for you, the only direction left for you to go is through another set of doors that no doubt leads to another maze of hallways.

The second you go through the doors, you duck down, avoiding the few crackling electricity sticks that jab towards you. You slip underneath one, tripping the guy in the process and creating a roadblock of a few seconds.

You bolt to the left, tossing things nearby onto the ground, leaving a maze of objects behind you. Every cart you pass by gets toppled onto the ground and earns you the precious seconds you desire.

You’re so focused on the people around you that you don’t notice thin white cloth wrapping around you. It snaps tight around you before you can even think. Your arms are pinned to your side and your legs are immobilised, causing you to fall flat to the ground.

As soon as you land on the ground, grunting from impact, electricity violently courses throughout you as multiple electrical batons prod at you. You blackout in seconds.

~*~

Your senses return much quicker the second time around. As soon as the bright light enters your eye, you jolt up, scrambling off of the cold metal table.

Pain is the only thing you feel. Pain pumping through your veins and making you shiver from movement. You back yourself against a wall, your hand instinctively curling around your stomach as nausea arises.

Before you are the purple haired Doctor Shinsou and the recognisable dark dressed man with a large scarf hiding his neck. He has a hand on his scarf and knees bent whilst Shinsou has his hands up in a surrendering manner.

“It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.” He says.

You glare at him in disbelief. “Oh really now?” You grimace as you speak, sharp pain erupts from the side of your neck, just below your jaw. When you touch it, you can feel raised, jarred skin.

“You were shocked by 4 electrical batons. That one on your neck is the most severe one because of the skin contact.” Shinsou informs as he watches your hand shake above the wound.

“So much for not harming me.” You scoff.

“Those guys were from a different department.” The unknown man speaks up. “They run on different protocols.”

You spend a few seconds staring at him, watching as he lowers his hands by his side. Recognition prods your mind. “You were the one to capture me.”

The guy breathes in. “For now call me Eraserhead. We’d like for you to join us in the conference room down the hall. We’ll discuss everything there.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more than the three of us here?”

Shinsou, having put his hands down to his sides, answers you. “There’s only one more person and he’s waiting at the conference room. No more harm will come to you. Promise.”

You scrutinise his expression. The genuineness of his statement. Despite the short time you’ve talked with him, he seems genuine and reliable. So, on the little info you have, and with the foreign situation you are in, you decide your best bet for now is to trust him.

Shinsou walks out first, gesturing to you with a soft smile. Slowly, you stand up straight and start walking. You suppress the grimace as your leg shudders beneath you, most likely another wound area. With a deep breath, you push through the pain and limp out of the room. Eraserhead follows you closely.

The hallway is quiet, save for a few people here and there whispering to each other. Their eyes drift to you as you walk past them. You can feel their anger towards you and their disgust, you’re thankful the walk through the hallway is a short one.

Shinsou pushes open a door and steps aside to let you in. As soon as you set foot in the room, you analyse the room. It’s completely bare, save for the large oval table and the dozen-plus chairs surrounding it. Seated on one end of the table is a police officer. He has a brown coat thrown over his uniform. A matching brown hat sits on the table in front of him. His black hair is practically melded with his scalp, barely any strands sticking out. Your first impression of him isn’t the greatest and you decide to remain overly cautious.

“Hello.” He greets you as you walk in, almost like he was expecting you at that very second. It unnerves you. He gestures to the chair beside him. “Take a seat.”

You carefully step towards him. “I’d rather stand.” The scratchiness of your voice is still present, but you opt to ignore it.

He nods in understanding. “You can call me Tsukauchi.” You nod once, eyes glaring into his. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“I’m sure you have answers.” You fire back at him with a monotonous voice.

“I do. First I’d like to clear up the situation you're in at the moment. You are in a hospital north-”

“I already know that.” You nod towards Shinsou. “He explained that to me. I’m in northeast Tokyo. I wanna know why I’m here. And how I got here.”

Tsukauchi nods. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on you for a few weeks now. You’re known as the vigilante Shadow, aren't you? You’ve been in and out of activity for years.” Every word that he speaks increases your concern, but you fight to keep your expression neutral. “You’ve taken down thugs and criminals, but you’ve also stolen from civilians off the street.”

“Ok, imma stop you right there. I didn’t just steal from civilians, I also stole from those criminals.”

“You still stole from them.”

“Because I had to.” Your voice grows louder.

“Why?”

“Because-!” You stop yourself. You almost told him about the mall. Taking a deep breath, you start again. “I had to survive.”

It aggravates you the way he nods, as if he understands. “Like I said, we’ve been watching you. We apprehended you because we decided it would be best to approach you.”

“And you didn't try talking first?”

“We tried that. But as you can tell, that didn’t go well.”

Your mouth opens to speak, but you close it, realising he’s right. But another question surges through you. “Ok, then why were an army of police on standby in the area if you just wanted to talk?”

“We predicted your behaviour.” Throughout the entire chat, he’s remained calm and it irritates you to no end.

You scoff and shake your head. “Is there a point to this talk?”

Tsukauchi bends down to pull out a folder. “We believe you have potential.”

Worry sets in. “Potential for what?”

He slides the folder over to you. “Potential to become a hero.”

The room is silent. You stare at him in disbelief, despite your best efforts to keep a neutral face. The silence only lasts a couple of seconds however, as you burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry? Potential to become a hero?! What the actual fuck?! Haha! Weren’t you berating me as a vigilante fucking two minutes ago?” You double both in pain and laughter wheezing and gasping between breaths.

“Yes. Amongst everyone else, I see potential in you.” Tsukauchi waits a few seconds for you to catch your breath. “You’ve shown initiative in criminal activity. You are quick to rush in and protect civilians.”

“That’s because no one else is willing to, and there’s no police around to help them so I choose to step in.”

“Exactly.”

For a few seconds, you’re in deep thought about his words. He’s right. You have shown initiative, but does that really categorise you as a hero? If that's the case, then can’t everyone be a hero?

You look down at the folder on the table. Tentatively, you take a seat next to Tsukauchi, and open the folder.

Concealed inside is a small stack of papers. A small paragraph is printed on each page, addressing you and claiming that you agree to the terms and conditions that follow. On the bottom is a line with your name underneath. As you skin through each page, you come across to a highly detailed table chart.

“By signing these forms, you agree to a temporary deal in which you will live with Eraserhead and follow his rules.” You snap your attention to Tsukauchi, eyes bulging from distress. With a glance towards Eraserhead, who confirms with a nod, you sink further into the seat.

Tsukauchi continues. “You must agree to no vigilante activity whilst in his care. You’ll be monitored every minute of every day as long as you're in his care.”

“That chart in your hands,” Eraserhead speaks up, gesturing to the detailed chart in your hands. You take another look at it, noticing the times lined against each row and the days lined above each column. “It’s a timetable which I’ve set out for you to follow. You do exactly what it says to, and you won’t get charged for any of your vigilante crimes.”

“I’m getting charged?!” You stand up with shock and rage. Tsukauchi and Eraserhead jump to a stand as well. “So you’re saying that I either take up this so-called ‘opportunity’, or I get sent to prison for however long you deem fit? Sounds like a fucking threat if you ask me!”

“Hey, it’s alright. I pro-”

“It’s not alright!” You turn to Shinsou, fighting to keep back the tears building up behind your eyes. “None of this is okay! I’m being stripped of my freedom, all for what? To keep an eye on my behaviour?!” You turn to Tsukauchi, staring him down with a firm expression. “I have responsibilities to uphold.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure they can be put on hold for a while.” He says.

“They can’t!”

Minutes pass by, the tension in the air running thick. You run your hand through your hair, sighing with frustration and surrender before fixing your posture. “What I’m about to say, does not leave this room.”

“If you agree to the contract-”

You snap your gaze to Eraserhead. “If I agree to this contract I will keep up my end. But you have to keep up yours.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before nodding, allowing you to continue.

Your heart thunders in your chest with nerves and irritation. Tears threaten to fall but you remain stubborn as ever. With a deep breath, you let it out. “There is an abandoned mall on the outskirts of Tokyo. It’s where I and a ton of other homeless people stay. We're like a family. We protect each other and help where necessary. There are some people like me who’ve rescued kids from all sorts of situations, and those kids form a bond with us. A bond that acts like a lifeline. It’s their emotional lifeline.” Without noticing, a tear falls from your eye. After furiously rubbing at your eyes, you continue. “It’s impossible for me to leave them. Not while their emotional stability is still fragile. I’m sure you know enough of psychology to understand that.”

The room is silent as the three males ponder your revelation. They look between each other, wondering what to say, what to do with the new information. Sure, there were rumors of more people like you, but to hear the information come from you was different; it was no longer a rumor.

“This timetable isn’t possible for me to follow. I need some time with the mall. I need to let the kids know that I’m still there for them.”

Tsukauchi looks to Eraserhead. “It’s your call.”

Eraserhead sighs deeply as all eyes turn on him expectantly. “I’ll allow a one hour visit two days a week.”

“Three days.” You interject.

Dark eyes glare at you, but you remain stubborn and strong against his eyes. The sigh he lets go of borders on a growl. “One hour visits, three days a week. With supervision.” He enunciated the last sentence, indicating there would be no objections.

Despite your desire to argue, you know it’ll be useless. So, putting on a tough persona, you pick up the contract folder and practically shove it under his nose. “I want that in writing.”

The man remains still, half-lidded eyes staring at you for what seems like hours. It feels as if he’s stabbing you with just his gaze alone. Finally, he snatches the folder out of your hands and slaps it down on the table. He then takes a nearby pen and begins to furiously write on one of the papers. Once scribbling his signature, he steps back, allowing you to inspect his writing.

You do so, ensuring each word says as it's supposed to. Eraserhead holds out the pen to you. After some hesitance, you take the pen and lean down. The pen hovers over the paper. Your heart beats hard, you can feel it in your throat as if it's ready to spew out at any moment. You take a few steady breaths, your hand shaking the pen slightly. One more deep breath, and you put the pen to the paper.

Each letter written feels wrong, incriminating and abandoning. It feels exactly how you expected it; like your freedom was slipping away with each pen stroke.

As soon as you write the last letter, you stand up, the pen falling from your limp fingers.

Tsukauchi takes the folder and pockets it into his briefcase below the table. “I believe Dr. Shinsou wanted to do a last check-up. He’ll also be the one that will be attaching the ankle monitor. We’ll be using that to monitor you.”

You simply nod, the will to argue no longer there. You follow Shinsou out the room, head tilted down in both shame and surrender.

Your mind is numb, barely registering anything said to you. As Shinsou gestures for you to sit atop the examination table, you take notice of the nurse. The same nurse as before, this time with a bandage across her nose.

She appears reluctant to be near you, you can see her hands shake as they reach out to apply the blood pressure strap.

“I’m sorry.” Your apology is quiet but startles the woman. However, a smile eases on her face.

“It’s ok.” She replies, voice slightly hitched due to the bandage. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

The conversation is left at that. Shinsou and the nurse, who said her name was Sakura, do the basics, heart, lungs, eyes, ears. After completing them, Shinsou appears with a steel bracelet with a small box attached to it.

He doesn't get the chance to speak as you lift up your ankle. He peers into your eyes, taking note of the dread-filled gaze that appears to stare at nothing. With a sigh, he carefully clips the bracelet into place.

“Is it too tight?” His only response is a light shrug. He can’t help but feel bad for you. He proceeds to press and hold a button. The device turns on at the action, a small light on the box flicks on as two small beeps sound. As soon as that's done, Shinsou guides you out of the room.

When you step out, you are approached by a long blonde haired male, a gloved hand sticking out towards you.

“Hello listener!” His voice is loud and overly excited, but you barely pay any mind to him. He observes your mute behaviour and turns to his husband. Eraserhead simply shakes his head.

“This is my husband Yamada. You can call me Aizawa.” He says as he walks away.

You follow him without delay, mindlessly pocketing the info.

The drive is silent and tense. You stare out the window the entire trip, watching as the environment passes by. There’s no thoughts running through your mind, nothing to think about but the dread and disappointment of letting the mall down.

You barely register you’ve stopped, so induced in your negativity that you don’t notice that Aizawa is before you, waiting for you to step out.

The house is two stories tall, a small wood fence outlining the property. It’s a fairly modern-looking house, a front porch stretching a metre out the front yard. It’s decently sized, looking to fit a modern family of five.

Entering the house, you register a lounge room and kitchen across from each other from the front house, then straight ahead are stairs leading up to the second floor. Beside that is a hallway which you are told leads to a bathroom and laundry.

Your gaze wanders to the kitchen, where you find a black cat sitting on the bench, staring at you with yellow eyes.

“Oh, that’s Jelly. We have another cat named Muffin, she’s nicer than Jelly, he likes to scratch.” The Yamada explains. His smile drops however as your gaze falls to the floor. “How about I show you to your room?” He gestures upstairs.

You shrug, allowing him to lead you upstairs. He turns down the hall to a room at the end. “Here it is!” He opens the door, his green eyes shining with delight.

You peer into the room, gazing at the layout. A double bed is pressed up against a wall, a small table on each side. A desk lays opposite the bed, small and bare. Sliding doors in the wall indicate a wardrobe. It’s bare of anything and feels completely unnatural to you.

“It used to be a spare room, but now that you’re here it’s all yours! Don’t worry we have another.”

You ignore him and walk into the room, taking a seat on the bed.

“Hey,” His voice is significantly dialled down in both tone and volume as he approaches you. “I know this may seem scary, but we’re here to help you. Aizawa may seem like a blunt and harsh guy, but he’ll come around. Eventually.” He then kneels down before you, a soft smile on his face, his glasses on the tip of his nose. “Technically my name is Aizawa-Yamada but that’s for legal purposes. We’re teachers and figured it’d be easier for the students to separate us. That and Aizawa doesn’t like our relationship to be public information. If you’d like, you can call me by my first name, Hisashi.”

You nod, numbly tucking away the information. You jolt slightly as Hisashi places a hand on your knee.

“Why don’t you get some rest? The drugs from the hospital are probably still in effect.”

With a gentle squeeze, he stands up and exits the room, closing the door behind him. In the end, he was right. You take the time to realise how foggy your mind is and how exhausted your limbs feel.

Having no choice in the matter, you lay down on the bed.

You stare at the ceiling, the silence of the room overcoming your senses. It’s then that everything seems to properly set in your mind. Tears cascade down the side of your face, and you do what you can to silence your sobs.

You told them everything you didn’t want to. Although it gave you something, you still risked the safety of everyone. You may have just caused their demise. All for what? What was the purpose of all this? To become a hero?

Did you want to be a hero? Is it worth all this?

What would everyone think when you visited them? Aizawa would no doubt be supervising you. And if he wasn’t, the device on your ankle would surely broadcast your position.

What else was the device for? Could it hear you? Could it see what you were doing? Could it harm you?

Your mind whirls with unanswered questions, each question that rises allows another tear to fall from your eyes. Sleep comes quickly, haunting you with all of the day's events.

When you wake with a jolt, you wish for it all to be just that. A simple nightmare, something that Dabi could soothe away. But that wish shatters as you look around. The room was too spacious, the view was too pretty, the walls were too new, and the device around your ankle was still annoyingly present.

#rts #road to salvation #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[sapphos-darlings]

Tips for the women out there who wish they were more GNC but are afraid to live the dream:

Giving up the feminine routines that exhaust you and which you don’t want to carry on with essentially only stings once. Let’s talk about shaving: few of us enjoy shaving. The feel of smooth skin can be enjoyable, but I’ve rarely met a woman who thinks it’s worth the effort it takes to stay smooth and hairless every day of your lives. Face it: this is not the natural state of your body, and the expectation that you meet this unnatural and frankly pedophilic standard is ridiculous. But you can’t just drop it, can you? People will stare at your hairy legs. You can’t go out with your legs exposed anymore if you stop shaving them. And even if you cover your legs, people will notice your arm hair. You might be WOC, and your hair is not only judged for being there in the first place, but being there so obviously, and you’re not only going against the current as a woman but as someone whose worth is already questioned in our society even when you do everything they ask of you. You’re already told that you’re never quite good enough, and more than just your own reputation hangs on you. Doesn’t it? The truth is, the vast majority of the people you pass by in this life will not care about you, hairy or otherwise. And the people who do are either not worth your time to begin with, for example the men who demand that you bow to their desires, or they need to mind their own business and cannot dictate how you exist in your own body, such as your friends, coworkers or other women in your family. Maybe you can’t shut them out, but you can resist, you can and you should question them. How are you bad for being how you were meant to be as a human being? What material, spiritual benefit does a beauty routine and the constant outside eye on yourself to judge whether you’re performing properly bring you, as opposed to all the other things you could be focusing on instead? They might call you ugly or say that you’re letting yourself go. This is social conditioning talking, and is not the truth of it. Your body was made to be a certain way - letting yourself exist as you naturally are is neither ugly nor lazy. It’s not a crime. In fact, demanding that someone alters herself for aesthetics every single day of her life is a horrible thing to ask of somebody: you are essentially told that you’re not good enough as a person, only as an object. Your worth is not tied to how desirable you are to the male gaze. Especially as a wlw, the best thing you can do for yourself is reject the male desire and the male standards such as hairlessness and the expensive, often painful, beauty routines. Re-evaluate everything you do for your looks, figure out which things you’re really doing for yourself, why you’re doing them, and how they help you - if they do - in your everyday life. Choose convenience and comfort and real confidence over the safety of conforming. Your womanhood and your personhood are not dependent on how well you perform the role of a sex object, a decoration. You are human.

Now, you’ve done something that seems radical: maybe you stopped shaving, or you shaved your entire head. Maybe you wore something you wanted to instead of something that makes you look beautiful. You expect repercussions. They might come, and they might sting hard the first few times, but you’ll learn quickly that you do not die. There are no cosmic consequences for unshaved legs or a makeupless face, or for cropped hair, or for wearing a pair of comfortable shoes that don’t make your feet ache and sting. God herself will not descend from the skies and smite you for your disobedience. The world is, in fact, quite silent - and you may feel more comfortable in your own skin already, even if you face consequences. After all, words are just words, but what you feel and how you carry yourself are your material reality, your whole perspective to this world. This is your point of view. You’ve made it more comfortable for you. You’ve made the vessel for all that you experience here better for yourself. Who else matters? Or maybe you’re actually just itchy, because regrowing your hair might irritate your skin for a while, much like breaking it open with microcuts with the razor would. The ends of your body hair are sharp, and the stubble doesn’t bend with your body. It’s like a thousand needles digging into your skin. Use lotion or oil on it - body safe, of course, especially if we’re talking about the genital area - or take a bath every now and then to soften the hairs, but remember not to dry your skin needlessly. The itchiness will go away with time. You may notice you smell less, too. Battling against your body odours gets easier with more fluff here and there to regulate your skin’s bacteria. The rewards aren’t instant, but they’re there... other than for the relief you’ll feel for not having to wake up early or spend time you’d rather be watching Netflix by performing a routine that demands your obedience every single day, or else. That one comes for free and it comes the second you decide to desist. Else what, you’ve asked it. And nothing happened. You’ll get less comments about your changes over time. People are very resistant to change and nonconformity scares them; stepping out of line will always make others nervous around you. But they’ll learn, as you do, that what you’ve done is in fact quite harmless. Your body will feel more comfortable. Your confidence will grow once you realise that you are good the way you are, and that the world will not collapse around you if you stop adhering to rules written for somebody else’s pleasure.

But surely, no one will love a woman who’s not beautiful - and you can’t be beautiful without makeup, without long and well-maintained hair, without manicured nails, heels and a thin body. Right? Look around you. Look at real women, women who haven’t been rendered mere Barbie lookalikes by the powers of Photoshop and extensive cosmetic surgery. She’s fat, and she still has a boyfriend. She’s got bags under her eyes, she’s got wrinkles, and she’s engaged to marry her wife-to-be this coming June. It’s like those around her don’t care she’s “let herself go”. And she’s muscular, mannish, everything you were taught was wrong or unattainable for women - and she’s adored by women all over the internet. People share her pictures with that emoji with the heart eyes, all over. “I want to be like her.” “I wish I was that brave.” Maybe you said the same thing when you saw her before, before you did what you’ve done now, before you decided to become like her. Who’s in the wrong here? These women who have committed the cardinal sins of breaking against the laws of objectification, or maybe the laws themselves, this expectation that you change yourself to be desired? Desired by who? Who is this invisible spectator in your life you so desperately wish to please? Do you love him? Does he love you? Do you want him? Question him; change him to her. What does she want from you? When I ask the trapped girl within me what she wants, she answers “freedom”. To be herself, to do what she wants, to wear what she wants, to be comfortable and safe. She wants to be seen for the human person she is, to be respected for what she can do, not for a plastic body detached from our mammalian reality of stretchmarks, curves, wrinkles, layers of fat and the little fur that keeps her clean and dry and regulates her temperature. So your mother or your sister or the man you work with told you that you look sick today, or that people will feel ashamed by you because you’ve let your leg hair get out of control. Ask them why does it matter - who is the audience for your performance? Maybe they reply: “it’s basic hygiene.” If it’s basic hygiene, why is it only expected from women?

You can prioritize your comfort and your needs over this commercialized idea of “beauty”. There is no wrong way to be a woman. Love your body. Wear what you want. Perform for yourself only. If someone won’t love you for what you don’t provide, find someone whose love is worth your time and not dependent on your performance in a full-time reality show. Someone will love you for who you are, because you are a human being in a human body, and anyone who demands you to be something else is out of their mind. The cardinal sins of womanhood and attractiveness are a lie imposed onto you to sell you products and beat you down every day so that you won’t question whether the pain and shame you endure is justified or realistic. Fat women, thin women, women of colour, hairy women, petite women, “masculine” women, “feminine” women, non-conforming women are all women, we’re all proper women, we’re all good enough, and we were all made to be jiggly, we were made to be fuzzy, we were made to be rough around the edges, to have smells, to have desires, to mature and show the signs of our maturity. There is nothing wrong with the way nature created you.

#wlw #gnc #lesbian #bisexual #c: sade

[highfivecalum]

Coachella {CH}

a/n: k so i’ve been dreaming about those pictures of calum like they’re haunting me in a good way so here’s some half assed/kind of shitty 3k one shot of coachella calum that i don’t expect to do well but i’m posting it anyway lmao so!!! anywayyy hope y’all like :))

It was hot out and the music was blasting. Everyone stood around the pool, laughing and singing along to the music, having photo shoots on their phones and expensive cameras. Coachella weekend was one the biggest and funnest occasions and of course Mallory and her friends were going to attend. They hadn’t missed it in years.

Her friends were a mixture of normal, non famous people like her, Instagram influencers, and actually, famous worldwide known people. Photographers, models, bands, you name it, she was friends with them. She couldn’t remember how her average self became friends with these people, honestly, but she was thankful for them. They didn’t act like they were famous, just like they were normal people like her, and she appreciated that. They didn’t treat her as if she was any less of their friend since she was normal.

Mallory huffed as she leaned over, resting her hands on her knees and trying to help the aching pain that was in her back. It was the third and last day of Coachella, and the standing and dancing all day and night the past forty-eight hours were taking a toll on her. Backaches weren’t common for her, so it felt like her spine was breaking off.

“You good over there?” Mallory lifted her head up at the sound of a voice, keeping her hands on her knees, an letting out a breathless laugh at Calum’s question. Calum Hood, one of her very famous worldwide known friends. The two of them weren’t as close and the rest of the band, but they still hung out and talked. He was usually reserved and closed off and Mallory knew that, so she didn’t take it personally.

“My back is fucking aching,” Mallory groaned. “Coachella ain’t for me this year.”

And she was right. Unlike the years before, it was hotter outside, her whole body was absolutely aching, and the exhaustion was taking over. But day three was always the most fun, so she wasn’t going to stay back at the house and miss out on the fun. She was going to troop it out and drink the pain away like everybody else was doing.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Calum took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke. He watched as Mallory stood all the way up, throwing her head back in pain, and pressed his lips together at the sight of the glitter her and her friends had applied to their chests. She was glistening with glitter and sweat and her outfit was revealing, just like everybody else's. It was hard for him to keep his eyes off of her.

Calum had always had a soft spot for Mallory. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he was drawn to her the minute he met her. He was still distant and closed off, but he would talk to her when he was around her. He wanted to get to know her better, become closer, but he was scared of getting too close to anybody - minus his band - especially when it was a pretty girl with a personality that every guy fell for.

It wasn’t a secret that some of the guys in their friend group liked her as more than a friend and thought she was attractive. It was hard not to like Mallory. She was nice, probably the nicest one in their friend group, gorgeous, and could make anybody laugh. All in all, it was hard not to like Mallory. Even platonically. That’s why Calum tried to keep his distance.

Mallory looked around and frowned at the lack of chairs. All the lawn chairs were taken and the few fold-able camping chairs her friends had brought were in use, and sitting on the concrete ground was definitely not going to help ease the pain in her back. “There’s nowhere to sit.”

Calum looked around as well, noticing that the only place to sit was the ground. He wasn’t about to let her sit on the ground. But, he also didn’t want to stand. So, looking down at his parted legs, he looked back up at her and bit his lip in thought. “C’mere,” Calum patted his blue pant covered thigh. Mallory looked at his face and to his hand that was patting his thigh with raised eyebrows. “Sit on my lap. It’s better than the ground.”

Mallory and Calum weren’t affectionate. They had hugged maybe four times in the five years of being friends. Unlike Mallory and Michael or Luke or her other friends who often hugged every time they saw each other. So, she was hesitant. She couldn’t even try to lie to herself and say that his thigh didn’t look good to sit on, because it did. Too good.

Mallory was attracted to Calum the second she saw him. I mean, who wouldn’t be? She followed him on Instagram before she even met him in person, already being a fan of his band, so when she first met him and the rest of the band through a mutual friend, she was a little starstruck. But then she realized that she was already friends with famous people and the guys were no different.

Mallory looked around once more, hoping a seat had opened up, and sighed in defeat when one hadn’t. She took a few steps towards Calum and carefully sat down on his lap sideways, so her legs were in between his parted ones. She let out a breath and sighed happily as she instantly felt the ache subside just a little bit.

“Better?” Calum laughed.

Mallory nodded her head. “Much.” None of their friends thought anything of her sitting on Calum’s lap, really. They knew there was alcohol being consumed and weed being smoked, and nobody’s head was completely sober or clear, so it wasn’t too strange for Mallory to be sitting on his lap.

Calum was hyper aware of Mallory on his lap. She wasn’t heavy at all, but he could feel the warmth from her bare legs against his pants and could smell the coconut tanning lotion she had put on earlier mixed with the smell of the Strawberry Daiquiri she was currently drinking. Calum wasn’t one to drink fruity drinks, but it smelled so good, he had to at least try it.

“That good?” Calum pointed to her drink and she nodded her head as she took a long sip. It was hot out and the coldness of the drink did only a little to cool her down. She held the cup out to him, offering him a sip, and he gladly took it, offering her his cigarette in return. They both wrapped their lips around the ends of them and sucked and inhaled. “Damn,” Calum took another sip. “That shit is good.”

“Want me to make you one?” Mallory tried to get up, but realized Calum’s hand resting on her hip was a little too tight and kept her sitting down. She didn’t mind, though.

“Nah, ‘m good. I’ll stick to my Corona.”

Mallory snorted. “Strawberry Daiquiri too feminine for you, Calum? Gonna kill your masculinity?”

“That’s exactly what it’s gonna do, Mal.” Calum laughed and Mallory shook her head. They fell into a comfortable silence and listened to their friends converse. Mallory swayed back and forth to the music playing that was getting everybody hyped for the artists they were going to see later on that day.

Ashton was walking around taking pictures of everybody with his phone, acting as their photographer even though they had actual photographer friends there. His face lit up when he saw Mallory and Calum, looking more like a couple than friends since she was on his lap. “Cal! Mal!” Their heads shot up and looked at Ashton expectantly. “Picture time. Pose for me.”

Mallory instantly went into model mode and wrapped her arms around Calum’s neck, surprising him but not disappointing him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back slightly so she wasn’t covering Calum’s face and grinned widely, showing off her pearly white teeth. Calum’s facial expression mirrored Mallory’s and instead of looking at the camera, he looked at her and admired her, thankful for the sunglasses on his face that covered his eyes. Nobody could see through them, so nobody could catch him staring at her.

Calum took a few solo, per Ashton’s request, and so did Mallory. Calum pulled her back down on his lap so the pair could look through the pictures Ashton took of them. They were cute and totally looked like they were a couple, but Calum didn’t mind. He hadn’t posted a picture on Instagram in a while and he knew that he had to bless the fans with good content, and that’s the best content he’s had in a while.

“These are so cute!” Mallory giggled tipsily.

Calum hummed in agreement and opened an app for picture editing. Once they were both satisfied, Calum sent them to Mallory like she asked him to and he sent them to himself off of Ashton’s phone. Calum’s thumb hovered over his Instagram app. “Mind if I post ‘em?”

Mallory’s eyes widened in surprise, but she shook her head no. “Not at all. Why would I mind?”

“Dunno.” Calum shrugged. “You know how the fans can be. They usually freak out when we post pictures with friends that are girls and I don’t want you gettin’ attacked by them.”

Mallory thought it was sweet how Calum was looking out for her. And she thought it was sweet that he wanted to posted a picture of the two of them. Sure, there were a few other pictures he was posting too; two of just himself and another of him, Ashton, and Luke, but still. She was involved and it made her happy to be a part of something.

“I’m surprised you wanna post them,” Mallory admitted. “I mean, you don’t post often, and when you do it’s never of you and some random girl.”

Calum frowned at Mallory thinking she was just some random girl. She was everything but that. They were friends, not the best of friends, but they had known each other for years. Sometimes, in his mind, Calum considered her one of his closest friends. “You’re not just some random girl, Mal. You’re a good friend. You know that.”

Calum gave her his blessing to post the one of them and she added some other ones of her and her girl friends, but her Instagram blew the fuck up with notifications, likes, and comments. Some good and some, most of them, bad. But she ignored them. She and Calum were just friends and nothing more than that.

⫸⫸⫸

Lingering touches and dancing close to one another were how Calum and Mallory spent the rest of their night. Calum had never been touchy, never been one to show affection to his friends, but after he had a few drinks and after Mallory got off of his lap, he couldn’t seem to take his hands off of her.

He had his arm around her shoulder as they walked through the crowd and watched from stage to stage. Or, if it was a particularly crowded set or crowd, Calum would instantly, without a second thought, take Mallory’s hand in his so he wouldn’t lose her. They danced together, Calum holding her hand up and spinning her around, or the two of them pressed against one and another.

This time, their friends did notice the touching. They didn’t think anything of the lap sitting, but the dancing and hand holding? It was out of the ordinary. That’s when Mallory’s friends pulled her to the side to question her.

“What is going on with you and Calum?”

“What do you mean?” Mallory furrowed her eyebrows.

“You two look like a couple.” Her other friend butted in.

“What?” Mallory laughed loudly. “Yeah, right. We’re friends, guys. You know that.”

“I have never seen Calum be that touchy with a friend before, Mal. Is there something goin’ on that you’re not telling us about?”

“No, guys, seriously,” Mallory grimaced as she spoke the next words that she wished she didn’t have to say. She had spent the whole day with Calum and it could have just been the alcohol in her system, but she found herself getting more and more attracted to him and starting to liking him, not just as a friend. It was crazy, she thought. But she coudn’t help it. “We’re friends, that’s all. Just friends.”

Her friends gave each other looks, but Mallory ignored them, and huffed in annoyance. She was tired, her feet and her back hurt, and she was not in the mood to be interrogated by her friends. She had already seen all of the performers that she wanted to, so she was ready to call it a night. If she didn’t leave soon she would get cranky and nobody wanted that.

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true,” Mallory shot down their thoughts before they could voice them again and let a yawn rip out of her mouth. “I’m leaving now. Tell everyone I say bye.”

Her phone was dead, so there was no option of calling an Uber, and the house they were staying in was a thirty minute walk, which was long but not the worst, so she decided on walking and not bothering the rest of her friends to leave with her and get her an Uber.

“Ay, Mal! Wait up!” She heard Calum call and she turned around, walking backwards once she made sure nobody was walking behind her. He continued jogging to catch up with her. “You leavin’ already?”

“Mhm,” Mallory hummed tiredly. “I’m tired and gonna call it a night.”

“I’ll go with you.” Calum pulled out his phone and went to order them an Uber, but it died just as the app opened. He didn’t want to make Mallory walk, but now they had no choice. Halfway through the walk, Mallory groaned in pain and kicked her platform sandals off. She couldn’t believe she had lasted in them all day and night. Calum stopped in place and crouched down in front of her. “Hop on.”

Mallory didn't even try to protest and happily jumped on Calum’s back. She let her arms hang on either side of his neck, her shoes in her hands, as she rested her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted and could have fallen asleep on his back, but every time he would shift and hike her higher up on his back and squeeze her thighs, she was wide awake. The feeling of Calum’s hands on her thighs had her thinking way too many thoughts she should not be thinking about a friend.

Once they were home, Calum let Mallory down and her bare feet barely hit the ground before she was losing balance and stumbling over. Her knees and feet were aching and standing was not something she was capable of doing anymore. But before she could hit the concrete, Calum was wrapping his arms around her waist and catching her.

Her breath hitched in her throat at how close their faces were, how close Calum’s lips were to her own, and she nervously swallowed the lump in her throat. Calum’s lips looked so plump and so fucking inviting and she wanted so badly to kiss them, but she didn’t have the balls to make the first move.

But it seemed she didn’t have to make the first move as Calum pressed his lips against hers. It took her less than a second to wrap her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. They both wanted it so bad, wanted each other so bad, that they didn’t have to pull apart to make sure the other wanted it. They felt it and they just knew.

Calum’s dropped Mallory’s shoes, slid his hands down from her waist to her butt, and her thighs. He gripped them and lifted her up effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist like she had done it so many times before and slid her fingers through his newly dyed blonde hair that she absolutely loved. Calum walked blindly to the patio that was hidden behind trees and bushes and fell back onto the couch that was there.

Her lips trailed down his lips to his neck and collarbones, sucking and biting, leaving marks on him. His breathing was unsteady, uneven, and he felt like a teenage boy when he felt himself getting hard that quickly, but that was just the effect she had on him and he loved it. He loved the way she made him feel and he had barely even felt her yet.

Calum peeled his shirt off and nearly tore off the knit tank top Mallory had on. Her lips trailed down his stomach as she slid off of his lap and her lips stopped just below his belly button. She expertly undid his belt, the button and zipper on his pants, and started taking them off, all the while his eyes never left her. He lifted his hips just a little bit to help her and he was left in just his tight boxer briefs that were even tighter against his already hard cock.

Mallory palmed him through his boxers and watched as his eyes fluttered shut just at the touch of her hand. She loved how he reacted to her. Pulling his boxers down, she didn’t warn him before her lips wrapped around his hard cock and began bopping her head up and down. She smirked against him when she heard the small moans and pants leave his mouth. She pumped what she couldn’t fit in her mouth and looked at him through her eyelashes. She swore that her new favorite sight was Calum like this; brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his moans.

She got lost in looking at him, too entranced by his beauty and the facial expression and noises he was making just because of her, she was  surprised when he unexpectedly took a fist full of her hair and yanked her up from his cock. Attaching his lips to hers again as he mumbled against them, “As much as I love your mouth, wanna taste you.”

He slid down the couch, so only his back was on the cushions and his feet were planted firmly on the ground, and she was hovered over him. She was wearing a skirt so all he had to do was push her panties to the side and she was exposed to him. His mouth went to her heat, his tongue flicking against her clit, and she gasped. Her moans were endless and the grip she had on his curls was getting harder and harder the closer she was to her orgasm.

“Fuck, Cal,” Mallory moaned breathlessly, trying her hardest to be quiet since they were outside still, but it was hard not to be loud with how good he was making her feel. “‘M gonna cum.” He hummed in response, loving how she looked above him, and his tongue flicked harder. Her mouth hung open, her eyes squeezed shut, and her grip on his hair so hard her knuckles turned white. Calum’s new favorite sight, just like Mallory’s, was her coming undone above him.

She moaned his name as she came undone on his mouth and in one swift movement, he was sliding up the couch and she was sitting on his lower stomach, dangerously close to where he wanted her the most. He connected their lips and she didn’t care that she was tasting herself on his mouth, way too caught up in the moment of it all.

“Want you to ride me, baby.” Calum mumbled against her lips and Mallory didn’t have to be told twice. She lifted her hips, moving them back just less than a centimeter, and gave him time to retrieve a condom from his wallet. He slid it on and there was no more time wasted before she was sinking down on him. “Oh fuck, baby. Feel so, so fucking good around me.”

She bounced up and down on his cock, letting him guide her hips as much as he wanted, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, leaving love bites all over his skin as he gripped her hips so hard she was sure there would be bruises. But she didn’t care. Calum could do anything to her, leave bruises and hickeys all over her skin, and she wouldn’t care because it was him.

Calum took control, never letting her hips go as he thrust into her, staring into her eyes as he held her up since he knew she was getting close. His thumb came down to her clit, rubbing lazy but fast and effective circles against it, and by the look on her face, he knew that she was about to hit her second orgasm of the night. The way her jaw hung open and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the way she threw her head back and let out a strangled moan, had Calum hitting his own orgasm.

They hit their highs at the same time, moaning each others names as they came undone together, and once they were done, they didn’t get up right away. They wanted to stay in that position; with Calum still inside of her and her around him. And even if she did want to move, she wouldn’t have been able to with the grip Calum still had on her and the way her already tired and sore legs were shaking.

“That was unexpected,” Calum mumbled against the skin on her shoulders, a light laugh leaving his lips. “Unexpected, but amazing.” She was too tired to respond, tired from being in the sun and on her feet and from all of the alcohol consumed during the weekend, and now from that, Mallory just hummed in response. “You tired?”

Mallory mumbled a ‘yes’ and she carefully got off of him, careful to steady her legs before she fell over, and the two of them dressed themselves in silence. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, it was nice, and they didn’t need to say anything to each other.

Calum found himself in Mallory’s bed instead of his own, in just his boxers now, with her next to him in his shirt and her underwear. He moved the hair that had fallen in her face and ran his thumb over her lower lip that was swollen from his teeth biting it. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, so unexpected and so fast, but so fucking good.

“We’re not just friends, are we?” Mallory asked sleepily, peeling her eyes open to see him. She too, just like Calum, was in shock about what had happened. There was no regrets between the two of them, though. They both knew it was more than just sex. 

Calum grinned and leaned forward, kissing her lips in a more tender, less rushed and less intense kiss as the ones the shared before. With complete honesty, he told her, “We never were, love.”

⫸⫸⫸

Taglist: @singt0mecalum @lockthisheartinchains @wrappedaroundcal @cosmocalum @roselukes @kinglyhood @babyurart @ ashtoniwir @cheyenne-in-wonderland @youmaycallmemrshemmings @cantbehandled-ever @gosh-im-short 

#i .... don't know wtf this was tbh #but??? here we go #if it flops we'll pretend it didn't happen thanks!!! #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #5sos calum hood #5sos calum #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #calum imagines #calum imagine #calum hood imagines #calum hood imagine #calum imgaine #calum blurb #calum blurbs #calum hood blurbs #calum fic #calum fanfic #calum fanficiton #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fanfiction

[xthe-corrupt-angelx]

Meet the Muse | Eve Gabriel

**partial credit to @miami-blanke -we made this OC together

Name: Eve Gabriel

Age: Unknown

Height: 6'2

Birthplace: Salt Lake City, Utah///Banished to Atlanta, Georgia

Birthday: June 24th

Zodiac: Cancer

Sexuality: Open to whoever

Top/bottom/switch: General switch with anyone-dom leaning w/ men(or masculine muses), sub leaning w/ women(or feminine muses)

FC: Samuel Larsen

Likes/Interests/Hobbies: Night scenery, punk music(but secretly loves classical), anything beauty related, being alone most of the time, long in depth conversations, anything black or red, old books, old paintings, dark academia, vintage aesthetic, Polaroids

Dislikes: Rudeness, cockiness, being yelled at, being talked down to, people who don't accept them, early mornings, bright lights, loud noises, strong smells, uncleanliness, people who are passive aggressive

Family History: Eve was born into a highly Christian, very wealthy, and highly Mormon family where their parents were both doctors. They have many, many siblings, all of who they never really knew. A few months after Eve was born, both of their parents were in a fatal car accident that resulted in their death. Eve was sent to an orphanage, but their stay there didn't last long. Not even a couple hours later, God came down and brought them back to an orphanage in the heavens, where they stayed until the age of about 11. The rest of the siblings however, Eve never met most of them. They remember a very foggy memory of one, who was sent away not long after

Description: Eve spent most of their time staying inside the orphanage, not wanting to socialize much and was quite lost. When Eve questioned where they were and why, God told them that they had a gift. They were born an angel, one that was meant to protect others from harm. Being born into a rich and well known family, God saw their newest child as a very special one. He saw Eve as a protector, one that would never get caught up in any harmful situation. Little did God know, that would end up being a little more twisted in Eve's mind than he thought. The Tree of Knowledge still existed, lived, and was something Eve was sent to first protect. God knew that Eve didn't know their name, and wanted to almost redeem the story of Genesis. Giving Eve a new last name was also part of God's plan, knowing that Eve didn't have much family at all. Gabriel came about because of that reason, wanting Eve to make families for others even if they couldn't have one of their own. They became the "Seer of Fertility," where they could tell families what the fate was of their unborn child would be, and what that looked like for the rest of them. Protecting The Tree of Life was a simple task, watching over the tree and paying attention to the serpent that still roamed. God told Eve to never listen to the serpent, and told them about the original story of Adam and Eve; one that was meant to caution them. But Eve was so desperate to know the answers, why they were alone, why they were ripped from family, and what was their true purpose living up in Heaven. Eventually, they became frustrated and the unanswered questions became too much to bear. Being the protector of The Tree of Life and knowing the true story behind it, it was a two way battle for them. Without being persuaded by the serpent, Eve ate from the tree anyway; something God worried about. They could've asked God themselves, but they were told that too much knowledge was power and could do more harm than anything else. But they were desperate, they needed to know. Eve, now 11 years old, was facing the harsh reality against God's word. God cursed the forever dull pain of carrying wings, one that made even emerging them uncomfortable. Eve got used to this pain eventually, and accepted it. However, God wasn't finished. Eve was pushed from Heaven and was told to never return. Eve was sent down into the criminal crowd on purpose, something they didn't know or discovered. God hoped it would teach them respect, loyalty to what really means something to you, empathy, and what it means to take accountability. Eve felt betrayed and sickened, knowing that all they wanted was answers. It hurt deep down inside of them, leaving them asking more questions about how could God not love his children, and why he would punish them for wanting answers to their past. Eve was alone for a couple weeks, wandering the streets in search for something to live for. The pain of carrying wings, even if they weren't there, was made a rather normal feeling due to how much they would simply fly around for hours on end. They had nothing, and didn't even know where they were banished to. That is until one day, a group of criminals took him in. They were not the kind to rob local shops or murder for fun, but rather a group who wanted to kill off people who did more harm than good. Being raised by criminals confused the idea of a God born child in their mind, unsure of what their purpose really was now. They were taught the ways of criminal life, how to spot people who were the real bad guys, and how to use their abilities to their advantage. They adjusted to this new life and saw it as a new family, new home they could come to, and rebuilding trust with the mortal world that they weren't able to obtain at a young age. However, growing into a teenager was not a pleasant experience for Eve. In fact, it was a very horrid one. They knew something was wrong, and was scared to talk about it to the new family. They wanted to wear makeup and dresses while still maintaining that masculine appearance. They wanted to wear nail polish, lipstick, foundation, all while still dressing up as a male. They even noticed changes in who they had interest in, finding people of all genders and sexualities as something they were attracted to. One day, they opened up about this, expecting to be kicked out or be the one who was considered the bad one. Instead, it only made things stronger between Eve and the group. They accepted them, not wanting them to feel like they were trapped and betrayed again. They were able to express themselves under the protection of the group, where they made sure Eve was safe. All this time, Eve didn't think about where they were or paid any attention to detail. It was all about what the group and building a family. They asked one day, being told that they were in Atlanta, Georgia. Eve was okay with this, especially since they have now lived here for so long. God watched it all unfold, and knew that Eve would never return back to the Heavens. Though this was something Eve never knew about, God basically wanted to test them and see if the plan worked. Instead, God was left with his questions answered. As Eve got older, they were introduced into the drug scene. They looked at it as a sense of protecting others, giving them at least a little income, and having a job of sorts. Eve is a person of color, which many people in Georgia are also. They understood the low income to their families, the struggle to get jobs, to keep jobs, and to stay off the streets. So selling drugs was the one way they saw as helping those people earn a little more money and keep people "working." In Eve's mind, killing off true bad people and selling drugs was a way of protecting others; something he was born to do. It's a little backwards in their mind, even if in some ways it does serve as a good thing. Eventually, Eve started working in safe injection sites as a further reason to protect the community. They were trained by many medical professionals, and due to their religious upbringing and great sense of care for people, they were made a nurse practitioner after many years of working under their supervision. Still to this day, that has been their job and they have no plans on leaving anytime soon. Also to this day, Eve is still very close to the group and has even convinced them to work alongside them. At this point, Eve no longer lives with them, but is only a few houses down incase of emergencies. However, Eve does still resent God and what he did, and they carry that pain with them on a day to day basis

Abilities: 

Healer

Great strength

Speed

Durability

Stamina

Invisibility

Energy manipulation

Telekinesis

Telepathy

Teleportation

Lie detection

Conversion

Shape shifting

Resurrection

Protective charm (protecting another person from harm)

Smiting(kill someone by touch)

Biokinesis(change someones biological makeup)

Holy white light (blasts of energy from their palms)

Memory manipulation

Pyrokinesis (manipulate/create fire)

Electrokinesis(create electricity)

Reality warping

Sedation

Hypnotism

Vessel locking(trapping someone through smoke/light)

Conjuration(make things or remove them from nothing)

Personality traits: 

They're very loving and sweet, though it takes them a while to get there

They're very protective and care easily

Very sarcastic and playful, even too much so

Sometimes doesn't know boundaries, but that's only if they like someone

They're quite witty and hard headed

They can be very stubborn

They have a tendency to close off and distance themselves

They have a short temper from time to time

They can get quite sensitive

They don't like going into their past or talking about what they've done, though they can get carried away and end up talking about it anyway

They get defensive rather quickly

They're very blunt and have no problem telling people how it is

They come off as intimidating at times, though they're actually quite sweet

They're actually very smart and intelligent

They're respecting of other peoples viewpoints, so long as the other person isn't an asshole about it

They don't like being touched often unless it's by someone they like/have interests in

They're quite confident and a little cocky at times

They like attention from small crowds, not big ones

They can be a little selfish from time to time

They can be quite the flirt

They can be insecure at times, mostly when they really think about the choices they've made

Additional information/miscellaneous facts: 

Even though they sell drugs, they actually don't do them often. In the very beginning yes, but as years went by it's more about protecting people than the high

They haven't been with many people, mostly because they were focused on other things

They've gotten into a couple fights over drug deals before

They don't like the idea of the path they've taken, but isn't sure how to change it

They're not proud of selling drugs either

They have quite a few scars over their body

They don't wear makeup and such as much anymore, at least not publicly-in private, yes. But going back to being a little restricted, they'd rather keep it more secret again

As a teen, they resented most forms of authority-kind of an anarchist but not fully

As an adult, they respect authority more. However, they do see the misunderstanding of some cases and the advantages some authorities have on others

They've broken their knuckles many...many times

Their wings make them feel a little more feminine in a way, so they're always glad to show them off when given the chance

Their wings don't hurt all that much anymore, but if they stay out for long periods of time it does become uncomfortable

Being an angel isn't a secret for them, they've actually embraced it through the years

Though they don't like the whole idea of being a Christian most of the time, they still wear a cross or have a rosary as a symbol of taking back their past

General tags: 

🕯our waking life's just a living dream | aesthetic

🕯look into the spanish moss let your mind conjure up old ghosts | home

🕯the life you've always wanted could be yours | desires

🕯even if your love was unconditional it still wouldn't be enough to save me | nurse practitioner

🕯what god doesn't give to you you've got to go and get for yourself | musings

🕯i've got no judgement for you come on and ache with me | roleplay

🕯you want me to surrender my identity | self

Ship tag: 

🕯i see your face when i close my eyes | lovers

(New)Other (side)blogs:

Zeus: @xking-of-the-godsx

Hera: @xqueen-of-the-godsx

Alessandra Galanis: @xi-dont-know-what-i-amx

Jaysen Gerasimos: @xking-of-the-overcloudsx

Griffin Saffi: @xthe-fortune-tellerx

**Rules/notes from the mun apply just as they do on @xking-of-the-cloudsx

**NOTE: This OC is not meant to bash religion, POC, and to glorify the drug scene. It's meant to explain the story of a Christan raised child gone a bit off, and understanding the harsh reality POC go through at times(Mun of @xking-of-the-cloudsx is a POC, has experienced religious differences, and grew up with cousins who were also forced into the drug/crime scene. It's not my intention to offend people with Eve's story, but rather explain the not so wonderful side of a child growing up in a world with somewhat switched morals and unacceptance through opposing beliefs)

#eve gabriel #oc #original character #character description #about #bio #tags #🕯our waking life's just a living dream | aesthetic #🕯look into the spanish moss let your mind conjure up old ghosts | home #🕯the life you've always wanted could be yours | desires #🕯even if your love was unconditional it still wouldn't be enough to save me | nurse practitioner #🕯what god doesn't give to you you've got to go and get for yourself | musings #🕯i've got no judgement for you come on and ache with me | roleplay #🕯you want me to surrender my identity | self #🕯i see your face when i close my eyes | lovers

[scaplivingtogether]

~A Evillious Christmas Carol~ Act 3

By: TomboyJessie13

Act 3

Act 3

The clock's bell on his nightstand started to ring, it is 11 at night. Along with the ringing were the sounds of weeping, Marlon had been crying in his sleep, he stirred in his bed as he wiped his eyes. He had been traveling in the past with the Ghost of Christmas Past and now he's left in a vulnerable state of guilt and sorrow.

"I'm such a fool..." He started, staring at the ceiling before covering his face with his hand. "How could I be so foolish?" Talking to himself in a somber tone, he then opened up the curtain to his bed. "I need some water." He lit his candle and proceeded to leave the room. Once he opened the bedroom door, he noticed that there's a light going on in the dining room. Did someone break into his home? Marlon quickly walked down the stairs to see who's there. "Hello? Who's there?" He called out, but no reply. Carefully he grabbed his cane under the portrait of Cheru, he's about to put up a fight with the intruder, he blew out his candle before setting it down, as he did'n't want to cause a fire.

"HAAAAAH!" He jumped in front of the dining room entrance ready to take on whoever's in the kitchen...but he stopped. His eyes grew wide in surprise as he dropped his cane, in front of was a dining table covered in platters of food, all different dishes and desserts more delicious than the last, not only that but the whole dining room is decorated in green colored decorations. Marlon felt drool running down his mouth from the site, he should've excepted Ayn's invitation to the Christmas feast a long time ago.

"Looks good huh?" Marlon jumped in surprise when he heard a masculine voice in the room, he looked over to find sitting at the head of the table in a fingers locked position was someone with a blond bob haircut and blue eyes. They seem to be wearing a green robe with white fur lining on it and secured with a brown belt, a wreath of holly decorated with red mistletoe berries and icicles, making it look like a crown, they seem to also be wearing a white feminine shirt with puffy sleeves and form fitting cuffs, a white frilly skirt that goes down to the middle of their ankles, red leggings, and black Mary Jane shoes with thick high heals. "I take it you never had food like this in your entire life or you had it before you you became stingy."

"Wait...you're a man?" Marlon asked in a baffled tone, changing the subject, this caused the stranger to look dissatisfied.

"Yes...and?" The stranger answered, looking annoyed.

"N-nothing..are you another spirit?" Marlon asked, attempting to avoid angering a person. They stood up and grabbed a cornucopia.

"But of course." He snaps his fingers which causes the cornucopia to light up like a torch. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, I am what they call the embodiment of Christmas."

"I can tell, you look like St. Nicholas if he were royalty and wore green."

"But I'm not St. Nicholas, aren't I?" The Spirit said as he walked over. "I'm surprised that you don't even know me considering I have 800 brothers, not to mention that we come every year." He then turned to the food on the table. "As for the large feast you see before you, this is what I like to call: "the food of generosity", it all came from the heart of those who think of others before themselves." He then turned back to the miser, pointing. "Something that you gave up a long time ago." That comment hit Marlon hard, after what he saw in his past, he felt vulnerable but is more willing now. Marlon placed his hand in his chest and slightly bowed.

"My apologies, Spirit." Marlon said remorsefully. "After what the previous Spirit showed me, I'll allow you to show me what I need to see."

"Really? So she finally knocked some sense into you?" He lifted his left arm to him. "Very well, just touch my robe and we'll be on our way." Marlon was slightly hesitant at first, but at this point he just doesn't care, he took hold of the Spirit's sleeve and as quick as a flash they ended up in the middle of a street in the city he lives. Marlon quickly covers his arms trying to warm them up as the air is to cold.

"BAH! BLOODY HELL IT'S TOO COLD!" Marlon yelled out in frustration.

"You didn't have a problem being with the previous Spirit." The current Spirit joked.

"W-we were i-i-inside buildings m-m-most of the t-t-time, plus she's a w-w-walking candle." Marlon shivered.

"Hm, you have a point, here you go." The Spirit snapped his fingers, allowing a robe to wrap around the Miser. "I brought your bathrobe from your place, I hope that's ok." Marlon quickly puts his robe on.

"Thank you, that's all I needed."

"Anyways, lets get a move on." They walked down the cold city street, around them people are making preparations for Christmas despite the poor weather, from cleaning the rooftops to talking merrily. The shops around them are also lined with colorful and delicious platters of food, the smell of figs and spices fill the air, and everybody is rushing about buying things for the season and the shopkeepers are too busy making merry to worry about getting the right prices. Then the church bells ring and the flocks of people go off to church. "This is what I like about this holiday, people having fun and treating each other with respect." The Spirit said as he began sprinkling a strange incense on the food from his cornucopia shaped torch.

"What's that?" Marlon asked.

"A special incense from my torch, a sprinkle of this stuff will give the food a magical effect of making any disagreement vanish." He answered. "It's best given to a poor dinner...speaking of that, there's one place I want to show you." They walk a little more down town until they reached the outskirts of the city, in front of them was a small rundown two story house with light inside. "Ah, here we are." The Spirit said as he stopped in front of a door.

"Who's run down shack is this?" Marlon said, annoyed, the Spirit then used his left hand and pushed the old Miser through the door without opening it, they just when through it like it was never there.

"This "shack" that you speak of is the home of your overworked and underpaid employee; Keel Cratchit." He told Marlon as he was sprinkling some incense around the place as well. As he does so, Marlon looks around the house interior, as expected it looked rundown, but at the same time it was surprisingly stable. A woman, with pinkish-red hair and wearing a simple pink dress with blue ribbons on it and brown slip-ons took out the bread from the oven and set it by a small window to cool down, meanwhile a young brunette boy wearing a dirty white shirt and blue overalls was placing ornaments around the Christmas tree, the tree itself was scrawny and missing tons of branches.

"I'm home, Mother!" Just then the front door opened behind Marlon, and in comes a young teenage girl with brown hair tied in small pigtails and matching eyes, and is wearing a old dress that matches her mother's hair, she also seems to be carrying a dead goose in her hands.

"Welcome home, Yukina." The woman said as she walks over to hug her daughter, just then they heard footsteps, Yukina quickly hides behind a rocking chair. Soon in comes Marlon's employee Keel, he was carrying another brunette girl with brown eyes, this time with longer pigtails and wearing a pale dress with a brown jacket, she seems to be holding a stick that resembles a crutch. Out of all the cheeriness in the room, Keel for some reason was looking sad, Marlon tilt his head at his expression.

"BOO!" Yukina jumps out, surprising Keel and the little girl.

"Oh Yukina you scared me." Keel said, forming a smile, the girl in his arms giggled.

"I brought home a goose!"

"Terrific child, we'll have a great dinner tonight." He said as he places the girl down, she was limping with a cane in hand. Seeing that, Marlon felt like something was wrong. "You go play with your siblings, Tiny Aile." Keel said, he and his wife went to another room, Marlon followed them and listened in to what they had to say. He notices how Keel was on the verge of crying. "Tiny Aile seems to be doing well, Mikina, though I don't know how long it would last."

"Don't say such things, Keel." Mikina urged. "I'm as worried as you are, but we have to keep our chins up and pray that she'll make a full recovery, and hopefully save enough money to cure her illness."

"You're right, she will make a recovery...someday." Marlon continues to watch Keel's family closely, it seems that for the first time he's actually learning much more about his own employee and how he and his family live every minute. Soon it was supper, the goose is small but they're quite happy to get something to eat during their prayers. Tiny Aile lifted up her glass and proclaimed proudly:

"God bless us everyone!" As she said that, the others followed suit.

"Spirit?" Marlon asks.

"Yeah?" He response, having just returned from blessing the house with incense.

"I've been absorbing Aile for quite a while...what's wrong with that poor child? Is she going to survive?"

"...I'm afraid not." He said in a somber tone. "They're giving their hopes up...for you see, if things like this continue...the only thing I see in their future is an empty chair where Tiny Aile once sat." Marlon's eyes widen in horror, it was not the answer he hoped for.

"...So that means...Aile's going to..."

"I'm afraid so." Marlon stood in there, frozen by this horrific fate placed on this child, and it will be his own fault.

"And...god bless...Mr. Marlon." Marlon suddenly jumped upon hearing his name spoken by his own employee.

"Seriously?" Mikina asked, sounding quite annoyed. "How could be so grateful to a Miser that pushes you around? You do this every year."

"I know, but even people like him should be given some respect and forgiveness, he was generous enough to let me have a day off." Keel responded, "You ought to not think lowly on them, especially on Christmas."

"Hmmm, I suppose." She said quietly, she then raised her drink and said: "God bless him." And after that conversation, they returned to their activities, being merrier than ever. Even Tiny Aile began to sing a song. While this was going on, the Spirit tugged on Marlon's arm, motioning him that it's time to leave, and he follows. Walking back into the city, Marlon's mind became full, he has learned so much more about his employee, given a new perspective on him, Marlon needs to start treating him more kindly. But what worries him the most was his youngest daughter and her discovered illness that, was she really going to die because of him? Meanwhile the Spirit was twirling around in his dress over the beautiful scenery.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marlon exclaimed over the site before him.

"Enjoying myself, what do you think? I'm the embodiment of Christmas after all." He responds, he stops twirling. "Why? you still worrying about Tiny Aile?"

"Well of course!...Eh!" Marlon blushed upon realizing what he just said, he clears his throat. "D-don't think I care or anything, I just don't want to see my employee coming to work depressed...it slows down business."

"Yeah that's not what I saw back at their place." The Spirit teased. "You we're very concerned." Marlon looked away.

"Whatever."

"Anyways, despite the horrible times, these families including Keel's still manage to make the best of it, for example..." He snaps his fingers, suddenly they're in the middle of nowhere, covered in grass and trees.

"What the-!?" Marlon exclaimed. "Where are we?"

"The Moor, that's where those miners live." The Spirit points over to the fields, there were a couple of miners who were sitting by the campfire and singing with their wives and children. "And here." He snaps his fingers again, and now their inside a building.

"Is this a lighthouse?" Marlon asks.

"Yes, next to the most unsettling waves on this county, despite of all that however, these gentlemen here are having a grand ol' time." He points at the two men who were eating and drinking their fill next to a small holly hanging on the wall. "And here." He snaps his fingers once more, now they're on a boat. "See those sea men over there?" Marlon turns to see a few more men celebrating as well, humming a tune to "We wish you a Merry Christmas". Marlon was quite surprised upon seeing those men having fun despite being in a dangerous sea. "And finally here." He snaps his fingers once more, there were inside someone's house with people in it, laughing and singing.

"This place...these people...why do they look familiar?" Marlon asked.

"Bah Humbug!"

"WHAT!?" Marlon heard someone say his catchphrase alongside a sea of laughter, he turned around and saw someone he knew, someone he had once despised but now feels regret. "Ayn!?" He sees his Nephew making fun of his saying while people egged him on, he was known to be contagious around people but in a good way. A beautiful woman came to him, it was his wife.

"You outta be ashamed of yourself, making light of that miser of an uncle of yours." She scolded.

"It's fine love, I don't even get to keep any of the money anyways because nothing good comes from it." Ayn said smiling. "I feel pretty bad for Uncle Marlon though, he's missing out of the good times, that's why I keep pestering him every year hoping he would come one day." They all laugh again at this notion. Marlon became flustered from the thought, his nephew cares for him too much after all those times he pushed him away. Just then he hears a pretty tune from a harp, it was his niece, he remembers this song fondly, for the first time...it made him smile, but not because of greed, but because of nostalgia, the enjoyment he felt a long time ago has made him smile. The Spirit grins at this development, he knew that Marlon's cold shell is starting to break.

"Game time!" One of the family members proclaim, everyone was getting ready for it. Marlon sees them making preparations, he then turns to the Spirit.

"If it's not too much trouble...but do you mind if I play these games a little?" He asks while blushing, the Spirit perked up from hearing that.

"Not at all, but do keep in mind that you these are just memories so they may not be real, not to mention we got 15 minutes." The Spirit said, looking at the grandfather clock.

"Worth it." He says, giving him a thumbs up. Despite what the Spirit had said to him, he was just having a great time with the relatives he never talks to, telling stories, playing games, and singing songs, his Christmas spirit has finally returned to him. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Marlon started to laugh again, this time to these festivities. Soon the bell Rings, it was time for him to go. Although he wants to stay more, he knew it couldn't last. Outside, both Marlon and the Spirit had their elbows linked and are twirling around in an happy matter. "I haven't felt this good in years!"

"See? I told you the holidays ain't always bad." The Spirit said in a elated tone...but it didn't last long, for the lights in the city started to darken, and while that was going on, the Spirit began to slow down. Confused, Marlon looked and noticed that he's starting to develop white hair.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry...I forgot to mention that my time is up by midnight...which means I will waste away...and won't comeback till next year." He explained, sounding somewhat somber.

"I see...huh?" Marlon spot something odd about him.

"What?"

"...What's going on under your dress?" He asks while pointing at his dress. The Spirit looks down.

"Oh right...I forgot to mention about them." He then proceeded to lift up his dress, revealing two little blond children, one with short hair resembling Marlon's and one with short twintails, both of them were starving, feral, sickly, dirty, and disgusting. Marlon was surprised about their sudden appearance as he stepped back from almost being scratched by the boy before being pulled back by the spirit, how has the Spirit not warn him about this?

"...A-are they your's?" Marlon asked sheepishly.

"No...these are man's." The Spirit said in a frail voice, he patted their heads. "This boy is Ignorance...This girl is Want...Beware of both of them...but most of all, beware the boy...For on his forehead I see that written which is "Doom."...Unless the writing is erased...If you deny him...slander those who tell others about him...admit that he exists, but do nothing about it...then doom will engulf you all..."

"...I-is they're any refuge for these children!?" Marlon asks in a scared tone, "A-any charities!?" the Spirit only looked at him with a stoic expression.

"...Are there no prisons?...are there no workhouses?" He asks, sounding more serious, that question alone was thought provoking. As Marlon was lost in his own thoughts about what the Spirit asks, the bell tolls. Marlon looked up at the bell tower at the center of the city, it was Midnight. He looked back to talk to the Spirit once more, but he and the children were gone...He was left all alone in the middle of the city.

"Spirit!?...Where are you!?" Marlon began to frantically ask while walking around the middle of the empty and dark city...completely unaware of a dark figure behind him.

End of Act 3

#evillious chronicles #fanfiction #a christmas carol #christmas #crossover

[umbrahighpriestofgiratina]

Caging Destruction

This is one of the earliest Yangverse fics, and oddly one of the more popular ones in certain circles. It features Yveltal being a socially akward dork, among other things.

A woman entered a small sub shop late at night and looked around. She saw a lone girl and her Purrloin eating the last of their French fries, the latter stealing them while the former wasn’t looking. She then turned her attention to the cashier, who was sending a text while his manager wasn’t looking. She marched over to him and slammed several dollar bills on the counter. “Be a dear and get me a Unovan cheesesteak,“ she said, “And make it snappy.” The worker, after backing away quickly, hastily prepared the woman’s sandwich and handed it to her. The woman left the money on the counter and sat down at a table. Ah, nice to finally settle down and eat, she thought, smiling, and moved to take a bite of her sandwich. ”Yveltal,” said a voice. The woman looked up to see a blue-haired, red-eyed man in a blue and silver business suit. “Shh!” she said. "People will hear you!" "I have erected a... Glamour of sorts around this table," he replied. "We will go unnoticed." "Fine, Dialga. Tell me what you want." The man sat down. "You've been... Unusually active as of late." "Yeah, so?" "For a Legendary of your caliber, it's rather risky." Yveltal raised an eyebrow. "Can't you say the same about yourself?" "History shows I'm more... disciplined in terms of self-control than you are. Especially since you recently were unsealed after a thousand years." "I'm fine." Dialga crossed his arms. "You could drain the life from every being in this restaurant if you lose control." Yveltal smirked. "Implying you couldn't just turn it all to dust if you did the same." Dialga scowled. "That's enough. Meet me in my home dimension." "But-" "Now." Dialga got up and left the restaurant. Yveltal sighed and did the same, carrying her sandwich with her. ------ Yveltal looked around Dialga’s home dimension. It seemed to be composed of a strange blue haze, with enormous glowing crystals floating through the aether and flashing scenes from throughout the history of the universe. The haze formed a “ground” of sorts around Yveltal’s feet, though she wasn’t entirely sure how flimsy or not it was. Meh, thought Yveltal. Needs more stuff blowing up. She yawned and stretched her wings- having reverted to her birdlike, red-and-black default form- when she noticed Dialga approaching. To most people Dialga’s current form would resemble a steely blue and silver dinosaur or wingless dragon; to Yveltal he resembled an overgrown, deformed Ponyta. “Now, Yveltal,” he said. “Tell me why you’re here.” “Because you’re a prick?” “Try again,” he replied, not changing his tone in the slightest. Yveltal rolled her eyes. “Fine. Because I endanger people and Pokemon by roaming about?” “Precisely. You must remember, Yveltal, you are the embodiment of death and destruction – not something that should be taken lightly.” “I can control myself.” “Really? What about the time you drained the life out of everything in a five mile radius before your latest slumber?” Yveltal shifted nervously. “That… Was an accident.” “Or the time you immolated an entire kingdom?” Yveltal flinched. “I had a damn good reason for doing that.” “Or the time you caused a mass extinction?” “I’m learning, OK?!” Dialga scoffed. “Yveltal, you are dangerous. Thus, you need to isolate yourself from humanity.” “Bah, you’re no different. Just look at the time that Cyrus freak tried to-“ At this Dialga gave a truly venomous leer and stomped a forefoot on what was the rough equivalent of “ground” in his dimension, sending vibrations that shook Yveltal’s body. “Enough! You know the hierarchy. I’m the senior Legendary, and you obey my orders. Understood?!” “…Fine. I will.” With that, Dialga stormed off. Yveltal sighed. “Hey,” said a feminine voice. “My brother giving you a hard time?” Yveltal turned to see a white –and-pinkish dinosaur-like creature with a long neck approaching, looking worried. “What do you think, Palkia?” replied Yveltal. “Eh, he’s always bossing good mons around. I wouldn’t worry about it.” “But…” Yveltal sighed again. “I just woke up after a thousand years thanks to that whole Team Flare fiasco. I could use some freedom.” “I know… Hopefully he’ll ease up eventually.” Palkia’s expression then brightened considerably. “You could hang out with me! I was just about to watch a Valiant Knight Skarmory marathon!” “Thanks, but I think I’ll go home.” “You could hang out with me, ladies,” said a third, masculine voice. A third, gray-and-gold dragon emerged from a portal nearby. “Giratina! Were you listening in on private conversations again?” said Palkia. “Maybe. Just saying, I’m the cool one to hang out with.” “Yeah, right. Yveltal, you can go home now.” “Thank you, Palkia,” said Yveltal, and she left hastily. ---- Yveltal sat on her perch on a desolate mountain, rocks and scraggly trees filling her vision all the way down to a valley below, where a human city lay, its form seeming to taunt Yveltal. In the meantime, a Latias was babbling in her ear. “…And Tornadus and Thundurus blew something up. Again. Any questions?” “Nope,” said Yveltal, “I’m good.” “Thank you! Now can I go? I have a human friend I wanted to vi-“ “Fine!” snapped Yveltal. “Shoo!” The Latias gulped and quickly flew off. Yveltal gazed back at the city sourly. Maybe Dialga is right, Yveltal thought. Maybe I should stay away from humans. As the sun set in the distance the lights began to flicker on in the human city. But humans are so interesting. They don’t know when to stop creating- and even better when to stop destroying! I hardly even have to do anything sometimes! And they’re far more dynamic and open to change than we Legendaries are… She smirked. And besides, they’re fun to hang out with. Her mind skipped back to the subject of other Legendaries and suddenly felt a pang of longing. And then there’s Xerneas… He can be a bit of a buzzkill too and we fight a lot, but he’s my friend and I miss him. He could be out there, anywhere. Yveltal fidgeted a bit, then stretched her wings. To hell with it. I’m going. She flapped her wings and flew off towards the city. ---- A now-human Yveltal weaved her way through a crowd in a city park, making sure not to bump into anyone. There was a celebration going on, and the air was filled with various sights and smells, some pleasant and others not so much. Suddenly a man tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, have you seen a blonde girl in a Zelda t-shirt?” “Let me guess, your girlfriend?” said Yveltal. “Uh, yeah, why?” “Ew. Romance. I don’t get why you hu- er, everyone is so gaga about it.” “…I’ll ask someone else.” The man left in a huff. What? Thought Yveltal. I really don’t get it. She then felt something pulling on her leg and looked down to see a Helioptile. <You got any food?> “No. Shoo.” The Helioptile frowned and scampered off. Great, thought Yveltal. Now I feel guilty. She moved away from the crowd and rested her hand on a tree. Aside from those little mishaps, so far, so good. See, Dialga, I’m doing fi- She suddenly felt a surge of energy through her arm and looked up to see the tree’s leaves withering. Gah! She thought as she recoiled her hand. Keep it under control, keep it under control… She looked around and became further flustered when she saw a pink-haired young woman in a Valiant Knight Skarmory t-shirt. Palkia! OK, keep your cool, you just have to avoid her seeing y- “Hi Yveltal!” said Palkia, who was suddenly right next to her. Yveltal jumped to the moon and let out a yelp. “Don’t scare me like that! How’d you get over here so quickly?” “Deity of space,” replied Palkia, stopping to sip a drink. “Whatever. Just… don’t tell Dialga.” “Like I’m going to tell that buzzkill.” “I’d suggest not calling me that again,” said a third, seething voice. A human Dialga stepped in and gave Yveltal a glare that could freeze the sun. “And look who’s already disobeying orders.” “Hmph,” said Yveltal, “Can you just buzz off?” “I’ll “buzz off” when you actually listen to me.” “Er, guys?” said Palkia. “There are people here��” “Look, I’m just trying to learn how to fit in.” said Yveltal. “Is that so bad?” “It is when you’re a risk to everyone around you,” replied Dialga. “Maybe I wouldn’t be one if you left. Me. Alone!” At the “alone” a pulse of dark energy fired from Yveltal’s mouth straight at Dialga. It collided with him and sent him flying straight into a tree, and the sound of wood splintering echoed throughout the park. The crowd of people heard the noise, saw the crumpled Dialga, and began to yell and panic. Dialga staggered to his feet, and his eyes began to glow. Around him, Palkia, and Yveltal, time flowed in reverse. The tree de-splintered several pieces of wood at a time, the crowd’s panic transitioned smoothly back into celebration, and when the glow in Dialga’s eyes ceased and time started flowing normally again nothing seemed to have happened. Dialga then spoke as coldly as he possibly could. “Palkia, take us home. Now.” Silently, Palkia blipped them away. ---- The crystals in Dialga’s home dimension gave off an audible buzz as the three Legendaries –now in their default forms- gathered between them. “Well.” said Dialga. “I believe we all learned a lesson today.” Yveltal opened her beak to retort, but just as quickly closed it. “Yveltal,” continued Dialga, “You will be re-assigned to the most remote corner of the planet. And if you attempt to leave I will report you to Arceus himself. Understood?” Yveltal sighed and hanged her head. “Yes…” “Woah woah woah,” said Palkia. “I have had enough of this. It wasn’t entirely her fault!” “She fired a Dark Pulse at me!” said Dialga. “Because you were pressuring her!” “Well what was I supposed to do?” “Give her a chance?” “I already gave her-“ “A real chance?” “…Fine.” He turned to Yveltal. “We shall do battle. If you display sufficient control of your power during it I may let you off easy.” Yveltal immediately shifted into a battle position but squawked and ducked when Dialga spat a pulse of turquoise energy her way. “You’re going to have to react faster than that!” said Dialga. “Oh, I most certainly will!” said Yveltal, firing a pulse of dark energy that racked Dialga’s steely hide. Dialga grunted and pooled the light shining off his scales into a beam that struck Yveltal and nearly knocked her out of the sky. “No, I can’t lose this!” Yveltal fired her own beam from the center of her body at Dialga, pushing him back a bit but barely making him flinch. However, it was enough for Yveltal to blast his face with dark energy, disorienting him. At this, Dialga began glowing; Yveltal panicked and bullrushed him, raking him with the claws on her wings in a desperate attempt to stop his attack. But it was too late; an explosion of energy pulsed from Dialga’s body as he roared, blasting Yveltal away and leaving her crumpled on the ground. “Ugh… I’m sorry…” she said. “I failed…” “No. You succeeded.” Yveltal looked up to see Dialga smirking. “You displayed admirable control of your power in that battle. I feel that merits going a little easier on you.” “Yes!” said Palkia, pumping a claw in the air. “Yes!” said Yveltal as well, shooting back up into the air. “I knew I could do it!” “However,” said Dialga. “Given the incident today I feel the need to appoint a supervisor.” “Eh? Who?” Dialga suddenly turned his head. “Giratina! I know you’re there. You’re the supervisor.” A portal opened, from which the gray-and-gold dragon emerged. “Yo ladies! We are gonna par-tay, am I right?” Yveltal stared blankly for a few seconds before giving a satisfied smirk. “Totally worth it.” -------- The next day a human Yveltal and Giratina were together on the side of a city street, the human Giratina being dressed in a long coat, fedora, and scarf. “Now,” said Yveltal, “You aren’t going to be embarrassing me, is that clear?” “If you say so,” said Giratina. “Good. Now-” She noticed something sticking out of Giratina’s mouth. “…Is that a joint?!” “Maybe.” Yveltal quickly grabbed the joint and tossed it away, where it hit the back of a young man’s head. “What the-“ he said, looking around. “Ack!” said Yveltal. “I’m sorry!” “Oh, it’s OK!” said the young man. Yveltal suddenly noticed the young man’s platinum-blonde hair and blue-and-black hoodie and felt a twinge of familiarity. “You know, I feel like I know you…” she said. “Who, me? Well, maybe you do. I wander around. Try to live my life to the fullest because, well, I love life. Viva la vida and all that.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Of course, I shouldn’t be using that particular phrase. I’m Kalosian.” Yveltal stared at him for a few more seconds before the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “…Xerneas?!” She embraced him. Xerneas embraced her back. ***

Thanks to Shurtugal and my Creative Writing teacher Tim Waggoner for revising help.

#yveltal #dialga #fanfic #yangverse

[earthbounddreamers]

Ask meme - Scarlet

Here’s all 100 questions from that ask meme for @atrue-whovian cause he’s insane This one is for Scarlet James is next Have fun I’m on mobile so I can’t put it under a cut rip

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1. What do they smell like? She usually smells of masculine deodorant (that feminine stuff is bullshit and expensive) and/or sweat.

2. What is their voice like? Her voice is somewhat feminine but mostly deep, very intimidating and loud.

3. What is their biggest motivator? She wants to make sure all her friends - who are now family - are safe and happy.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? When she thought she was flirting with a gay girl but she was actually straight and was suuuper embarrassed when she tried to ask her on a date.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? Usually she just swears loudly, takes a deep breath, applies pressure for a moment, then controls it with harsh breathing to channel her pain. If it needs treatment she applies first aid while swearing the entire time. If adrenaline is high and she’s in danger she doesn’t consciously react, and though her body might flinch she doesn’t even feel it.

6. What do they like to wear? Baggy masculine clothes most of the time, band merch and sweat pants, sometimes jeans but they’re always torn. Other times she wears tight fitting workout clothes or just a tank top and shorts to show off the guns.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? Sam was the first person to make her start exploring herself, give a second thought to the things running through her head. Sam helped start her healing process, even if it was a little slow. While all her relationships have helped in different ways, Sam really started it all.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? Once when she was high someone caught a grasshopper and cooked it over the fire - cooked being a generous word - and she ate it without hesitation. Don’t do drugs kids.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. Sprawled out, snoring loudly, usually with an arm wrapped around Sam.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? She loves hamburgers with all the toppings you can fit on it. Five Guys, Burger Factory, that kinda thing is her shit. She loves going to fast food joints and ordering the craziest combinations.

11. What do they feel most insecure about? Her abilities in anything really. She hates herself the moment she can’t do something. Even if it’s something small like playing a stupid Mario Party minigame she needs to be able to do it.

12. How do they like to dress? Masculine and functional, looking good and ready to kick ass.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt? Beats herself up infinitely, hates herself and never really talks about it until someone convinces her to and then they can hopefully comfort her.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal? Initially wants to kill them. Then wants to beat the shit out of them. Eventually like, four years later, gets over it.

15. What is their greatest achievement? Breaking out if the institution and making it home safe, that was badass and awesome.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep? Irritable and cranky. Throws back coffee and energy drinks to help stay awake until she eventually crashes and passes out.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk? Depressed, nostalgic for better times. She cries a lot and apologizes for everything ever. A sad sight to see, really.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy? Hard rock and heavy metal. She wants to feel the bass in her bones and rock the fuck out. Has a soft spot for a few softer bands but usually refuses to admit it.

19. Are they right or left handed? She was born like technically left handed, but due to the missing finger she quickly took to using her right hand.

20. Fears? Scared of losing people. Scared of disappointing her friends. Scared of becoming like her parents. Scared of hurting those she loves.

21. Favorite kind of weather? Windy and somewhat sunny, but not too bright. She loves the rain too.

22. Favorite color? Red, which was probably obvious.

23. Do they collect anything? She tends to keep bottle caps around, accumulating a pile in her room until Sam inevitably recycles them all and she has to start anew.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more? Cool but not cold weather.

25. What is their eye color? Pale blue like iceberg water.

26. What is their race/ethnicity? White, specifically white trash by birth.

27. Hair color? Dark brown, likes to dye it red.

28. Are they happy where they are currently? Living with Sam and Max in a decent apartment with a decent job, she’s happy.

29. Are they a morning person? Not in the least. She’s basically a zombie before 11am.

30. Sunrise or sunset? Sunset, she likes knowing darkness is right around the corner.

31. Are they more messy or more organized? Messy, everything has it’s place - wherever it happens to be dropped.

32. Pet peeves? When people follow rules like it’s the law - even when it’s literally the law. See: Refusing to jaywalk Taking off hats in restaurants Never walking on the road even when it’s 2am and nobody else is awake jesus christ live a little dude

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance? She still has this little bracelet Sam gave her when they were like 12. It’s made of silver and has a little S engraved in it. She refuses to admit she still has it.

34. Least favorite food? She can’t stand salad. Why would you eat leaves?

35. Least favorite color? Orange. Never did care much for it.

36. Least favorite smell? Like 99% of perfumes, they just smell like chemicals to her.

37. When was the last time they cried? Last week she had a nightmare and some traumatic memories came back and she couldn’t help but cry.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried? She woke Sam up without meaning to and they comforted her.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured? She and Max were playing chicken, running straight at each other until someone bailed out. Nobody bailed out. She got her forehead cut open and Max got a huge bruise on his cheek.

40. Do they have any scars? Jesus does she ever. Scar across her left cheek, left ear reconstructed from skin grafts, scars up and down her arms and thighs from self harm, leg amputated above right knee, scars on her stomach from when her mother attacked her, burn marks across her back, and she’s missing her left index finger from a birth defect. We call her Scar for a reason.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues? Major depression and anger issues, as well as other shit left over from emotional and physical abuse. She’s pretty broken. On antidepressants but they aren’t quite enough, she’s doing her best.

42. Do they have any bad habits? Drinks too much (working on it though), used to smoke weed too much, leaves in the middle of the night without warning and worries everyone to death.

43. Why might someone dislike them? Lots of reasons. Resting bitch face, defensive and rude, she’s very loud and refuses to apologize for who she is

44. Why might someone love them? She has a lot to talk about. She’s intensely loyal and will protect you with her life. Once you realize what she’s working to fight through, she’s trying her hardest to be a good person. She’s a fight worth fighting for.

45. Do they believe in ghosts? She believes that if someone dies in a bullshit way they’ll stick around until they’re satisfied.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives? Any four of her best friends. Sam, Max, James, and Simon alike she’d trust with her life.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone? She loves Sam.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone? Sam is her gorgeous partner and she loves her very much.

49. Do they like surprises? She would if she could be awake enough to enjoy them. When she stays up for an all nighter she loves watching the sunrise.

50. When is their birthday? August 18th, summer child.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday? Used to drink the night away, now gets friends together to eat cake and junk food and watch good-bad movies

52. Do they have any family? Parents are long gone. This gang of misfits is her new family. A bunch of brothers and a beautiful partner.

53. Are they close to their family? Biological family no, she wants nothing to do with them. Her new family definitely.

54. What is their MBTI type? I’d say ISTP, the Virtuoso. I think it suits her well.

55. What is their zodiac sign? She’s a Leo but can literally never remember her sign.

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in? Gryffindor, like the cliche kicking down the door Gryffindor.

57. What D&D alignment are they? Chaotic neutral-good. She wants to be good, but only when it concerns her or her friends.

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about? The infinite amount of hit that has happened to her still haunts her every week or two, usually waking her up in the middle of the night.

59. What are their views on death? Pretends not to care, actually scared of what might be waiting.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at? Any stupid joke for pun. Like what’s a fish without an eye? Her favourite joke.

61. When bored, how do they pass time? She works out, drinks, gets high, or just sleeps. She’ll also cuddle with Sam then fall asleep.

62. Do they enjoy being outside? Yeah, she loves the outdoors. She’ll get cranky if it’s too hot though.

63. Do they have an accent? She’s got the typical American/Canadian accent that doesn’t sound like an accent when you’re in north america. She has a few words out of the stereotypical Canadian accent but you’re dead if you point it out.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction? Step one: acquire cake Step two: ingest

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say? She’d be terrified, crying as she spends every moment she can with all her friends. Telling and hearig stories, terrified that she’ll be forgotten.

66. How do they feel about sex? She enjoys it but doesn’t need it. Really depends on her partner.

67. What is their sexuality? She’s bisexual, leaning towards female and nonbinary people.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood? No way, blood can’t phase her at this point. She’s stitched and bandaged too many wounds to care about blood anymore.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross? Rotten food, just the sight of it makes her want to puke, and the smell will definitely make her puke.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them? The cold-hearted bully who actually has a Tragic Backstory and can’t cope with it. Just needs someone to understand her.

71. Do they enjoy helping people? Her friends, yes. Sometimes strangers, but usually busy taking care of herself.

72. Are they allergic to anything? Nope, her immune system is chill.

73. Do they have a pet? James has Pequeño and she’s basically his aunt. She also has a rose haired tarantula named Princess she keeps in her room. Sam pretends they aren’t terrified of Princess.

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they lose their temper? She’ll get angry in a heartbeat. She has two possibilities when angry: brooding and internalizing it all, or yelling and screaming until she ends up breaking down crying (usually someone is bleeding at this point).

75. How patient are they? She isn’t.

76. Are they good at cooking? Good enough. Nothing special but it’s pretty good.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often? All the time. Big fan of “go die in a barn fire” and “who’s this clown?”

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? She’s grinning, laughing at everything and loud as can be.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears? She’s super careful to protect them from it and try not to mention that stuff.

80. Are they trustworthy? If you’re established as friends, she will die before she betrays you.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it? She hides them on instinct, and is good at first but everything quickly overwhelms her and shows through.

82. Do they exercise regularly? All the time.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look? She’s not terribly confident, but comfortable with her looks. She doesn’t plan on changing.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people? She loves their arms, like muscular or small and dainty she loves the shoulders, biceps, forearms, hands. Can’t get enough.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive? Calm, helpful personalities, but still enough energy to go out and have fun. She wants someone to balance her out, but have fun when they can

86. Do they like sweet foods? In small amounts, she usually prefers salty or savory stuff.

87. What is their age? She’s 18.

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between? Damn tall, she’s 6’3”.

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts? Nope, her eyes are fine.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive? Somewhat, but not much.

91. What is their sense of humor like? Usually based on stupid puns and morbid jokes.

92. What mood are they most often in? Used to be depressed like 24/7, now is actually happy or at least content for the most part.

93. What kinds of things anger them? Basically anything, but especially people being rude, at least as she perceives.

94. Outlook on life? Kinda shitty but she’s stuck here so she might as well make the best of it.

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed? Life. Basically anything. Anything had the potential to be sucked into the depressive vortex and made to be depressing.

96. What is their greatest weakness? Being insecure in herself. Also girls.

97. What is the greatest strength? Fighting for what she believes in.

98. Something that they regret? The years spent drunk and high that she could have been enjoying.

99. Biggest accomplishment? Getting out of the institution with James and Simon, alive and well.

100. Create your own! Ask anything you’d like!

#my ocs #scarlet #scarlet harbringer #ms #ms ocs #ms characters

[cncorner]

Month 2 Update

Huzzah, we’ve made it two months!

I started off the month with .3mL of a 200mg/mL solution (so 60mg a week). About 10 days in I got it increased to .4mL of a 200mg/mL solution (80mg a week).

Physical first, like before, then mental.

1. I’m going to skip the pictures this time because they’re annoying, lol. The first voice analyzer test I did this month had me at 155Hz, and my lastest one at 140Hz. Tracking my voice dropping this month was a little stressful because for a couple weeks after I upped my dosage it was cracking all over the place. Because it was cracking it was hard to get an accurate average for each recording. But it’s starting to settle down. I think my voice spent most of the month in firm androgyny.

My therapist did say that my voice was starting to sound like a high-pitched guy’s voice, which tracks with what I said before (about androgyny being 140Hz to 175Hz, unlike what the app says). That’s pretty exciting. I’m not doing much to change the cadence of my voice (or whatever it’s called), so it still sounds pretty feminine. I’m not sure how much I plan on doing with that. I still have time, though.

2. Hair! I am getting more hair! The hair on my arms and legs are growing back in. They almost look like pre-swim-instructor-level-hair. Hair on my upper lip and my chin is growing in longer, but I hesitate to say that they’re actually darker just yet. I don’t think the hair on the rest of my body is any longer or more apparent.

3. I do smell differently now! But mostly just my funbits; they smell like balls now. It’s funny, because I don’t have balls. Thankfully, I kind of like the new smell more than the old one. It’s not a change I expected to appreciate.

4. Acne is still getting worse, but it’s still fairly manageable. So long as I shower regularly it’s not that bad.

5. I’m getting way more sweaty way faster. If I’m not working in the pool then I’m showering like twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening before going to sleep. It’s getting real annoying. I’m pretty ready for that to calm down.

6. My skin is... thicker? I’m not sure if that’s right. It’s less smooth, that’s for sure, and overall I’m less “soft”, which I’m very thankful for. Muscles are coming in, and already my shoulders have gotten broad enough that slim fit shirts no longer fit me. Sadly I’ve also gained a little bit of weight, but hopefully either my metabolism will catch up or my muscles will catch up.

7. My face is masculinizing somewhat. I couldn’t tell you in exactly what way. I look a little bit more like my brother. For some reason I’m surprised by this; I assumed that I was going to end up looking like my dad. My brother would be a more obvious assumption.

8. My curves aren’t gone, but my butt thankfully is smaller. Woo! My breasts also shrank a bit, I believe. I’m down from a B.5 to a straight B, if I had to gues.

9. Downstairs is still growing, but at a slower rate. It looks kind of... penis-head-shaped now, just tiny.

And now for the mental:

10. I’m still way more creative than I was before. My mind jumps around to ridiculous conclusions a lot more, so I’m faster with jokes. I’m more frequently struck with a sense of... joie de vivre, too, so my jokes are significantly stupider.

11. Libido is a... funny thing, now. If we take it to mean “Desire for orgasms”, it’s gone up a little bit. If we take it to mean “Desire for sex”, it’s in the fucking pits. I haven’t had sex in a month and a half, and it’s amazingly liberating. I feel super guilty about it, sure, but very liberating. But I’m feeling constant touch hunger, which is bananas. I want to make out all the time. I like cuddling a lot more now, and cuddling is significantly more satisfying now than it was before. I’m considering calling myself asexual, but I’m not 100% sure yet.

12. I can still cry. I wasn’t much of a cryer before I started, anyways, but I’m still capable of it. I’m scared to watch movies that used to make me cry, because I’ll probably be way worse about them now.

13. My sleep is so frustrating now. It takes me a long time to get to sleep, and I don’t sleep anywhere near as much. It’s getting worse the warmer it is outside because my body temperature is warmer as it is already.

Other things:

I’m getting more annoyed by doing shots. I knew that I was going to end up being someone with poor adherence, I just didn’t realize my annoyance was going to kick in so soon. But thankfully doing my shots doesn’t take that long.

Also since upping my dosage I’m no longer getting as much of a end-of-shot-week lull. When I got my levels tested at midweek (shot on Friday, tested on Monday), they came out to 299. Since “healthy” levels are 270-1070, I’m guessing I spent maybe half the week under that level. I’m guessing my T is high enough that it stays within those levels for most/all of the week. I get a little crabby on Thursday night, but it’s really negligible. It’s like going from a 10 in mood to an 8, whereas before it was a 10 to a 4.

So I’m out to my general manager and HR at work. I kind of came out on Facebook, but I’m not sure how many people noticed. I’m not planning on “coming out” to people at work; just going to let them wonder and see what rumors sprout up.

Some people are starting to “notice”. I’ve had a student tell me that I kind of look like a boy, and my fiance’s mother’s boyfriend (sorry) kept on asking if I was sick. Luckily I was getting over an actual cold so I had an excuse, but I’m guessing my voice was low enough to be noticeable.

My goal for the next month is to start my legal name change. I’m not going to change my gender marker yet. I still have female parts, and I want access to that care. It also helps that I’m not getting T through insurance, so that doesn’t need to be covered. Once my name is changed, that might start a new health insurance “event” (or whatever it is) and I can change my insurance to the gold level. After that I can start planning for top surgery, yay! I want to get it this December. I’ll need to be out of work for a couple of weeks, and my work is already closed for a week and a half around the holidays. I want to take advantage of that.

My passing rate as a man is still around 0%, but my passing rate as “Wait, what are you?” is going up. I’m guessing it’s going to stay like that for a while.

Thanks for reading!

#ftm #month update #writeup

[chriscanwell]

New Post has been published on Develop Attraction

New Post has been published on https://www.developattraction.com/become-alpha-male/

How to Become a Real Alpha Male

If you want to attract more beautiful women into your life and keep them around, you need to learn how to project the attitude of an alpha male.

Why do bad guys have all the fun? If there’s one thing that separates the attractive bad guy from the unattractive good guy, it’s that attractive men are never weak around women.

If you’re weak around women, even if you’re rich, successful, and handsome, women will lose attraction for you. If a woman smells weakness, she’ll pull away. If a woman feels she can control and manipulate you, she’ll abuse you and try to control you. If a woman feels as though you’ll do anything to please her, she’ll lose respect for you.

It’s at this point that you must ask yourself two important questions: first, how can a man be perceived as strong by women (or become what is commonly known as alpha)? And second, is a man born alpha or does he become alpha over time? Is alpha, in other words, a result of nature or nurture?

In my own experience, alpha, as I’ve come to see it, is a trait that’s mostly developed over time through conscious effort and awareness. Alpha versus Beta is strength versus weakness.

Always Choose the Strongest Action

The beta male is weak; the alpha male is strong. The alpha male consistently chooses strength over weakness; the beta male chooses weakness over strength. The alpha male takes the strongest course of action; the beta male takes the weakest course of action. But how do you know what actions are strong and what actions are weak? Let’s take a look at some different scenarios that better demonstrate this point in more detail:

Scenario #1: Your girlfriend tells you she wants to break up with you. What is the strongest course of action you can take and what is the weakest course of action?

The weakest course of action is to beg and plead with your girlfriend to stay in the relationship. The strongest course of action is to walk away with your head held high. This is the path of the alpha male.

Scenario #2: A woman doesn’t respond to your text messages.

The weakest course of action is to send more messages. The strongest course of action is to walk away and ignore her until she gets back in touch with you.

Scenario #3: Your girlfriend tells you she just wants to be friends.

The beta male accepts the offer of friendship, hoping things will change in the future. The alpha male, again, walks away and ignores his girlfriend until she changes her mind.

Whenever you’re in any doubt about how you should interact with women, ask yourself one important question: what’s the strongest course of action I can take? If you’re being honest with yourself, you already know the answer.

Strong actions and behaviors are actions and behaviors that make you feel good about yourself. If you choose the strongest course of action in all areas of life, it won’t be long before you project an alpha mindset without even thinking about it.

Adopt an Alpha Male Mindset

At first, adopting an alpha mindset is a conscious decision, but over time this thought process becomes a natural part of who you are. An alpha mindset endures not just because it’s guaranteed to get you more women and more sex, an alpha mindset endures because it’s the right path to follow. It’s the path to self-respect, freedom, and dignity. And just as weakness is the ultimate attraction killer, strength is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

The “nice guy” beta male who tries to please women by pretending to be kind and chivalrous does nothing to instill attraction. All he does is conceal his true thoughts and feelings.

In reality, the nice guy is not nice. He’s lying to himself about what he wants, and he’s lying to the world around him. The nice guy pretends he just wants to be friends with women, even though being friends is the last thing on his mind.

The nice guy thinks that by being nice, women will be compelled to like him in return. The nice guy rushes to a woman’s defense with the hope that she’ll reward him for his chivalry. The nice guy says he’s not interested in sex when it’s all he ever thinks about.

This is in contrast to the “bad guy” alpha male who does the exact opposite. The alpha male doesn’t care if people like him or not. The alpha male has no interest in defending women or saving them.

The alpha male makes it clear that he’s interested in sex and that he would love nothing more than to be intimate with a woman. As you can see, the bad guy is not really a bad guy, he simply speaks a truth that few men dare speak.

Be True to Yourself and Your Desires

An alpha male embraces all that is masculine. He doesn’t care what society thinks or what his family, friends, and other people think. The alpha male walks his own path and marches to the beat of his own drum. If he wants something, he goes after it. If he wants to become intimate with a woman, he lets her know without worrying about rejection.

Part of the reason why alpha males can feel so confident and self-assured is that they don’t rely on other people for validation. An alpha male never seeks validation from women; therefore, women are unable to rattle him or affect his confidence in any way.

The alpha male also lives in a state of abundance. If a woman rejects him, it’s no big deal. There are plenty more fish in the sea.

Embrace Fear and Uncertainty

Most men are scared. They live their lives in a constant state of fear and anxiety. What happens if I get rejected? What happens if my wife leaves me? What happens if I lose my job? These are just a handful of fears men struggle with on a daily basis. But why are men so afraid? Men are afraid because they believe they have limited options in life, which, in turn, makes them feel powerless and helpless. The man who’s afraid to lose his job believes he has limited economic opportunities, even in a world of financial abundance. The man who’s scared his wife or girlfriend will leave him has the misguided belief that he’ll never find a woman better than his current partner.

Women can smell weakness like a shark smells blood. When you see yourself as weak, helpless, and powerless, the world can’t help but see you the same way.

In my discussions with men who’ve successfully made the transition from beta to alpha, I’ve noticed that these men all share one thing in common: they embrace masculinity.

Some men are born into a state of alpha, for the majority of men, however, becoming alpha requires work (work that’s both highly rewarding and satisfying).

Focus on Yourself

Making the transition from beta to alpha always begins with the body. Strengthen your body and you strengthen your mind. The moment you start to feel powerful in your body is the moment you start to think with strength and certainty. When you feel vulnerable, you become vulnerable. When you see yourself as attractive, you become attractive. Your thoughts are manifested into reality, and you choose the path that ultimately determines your reality.

In a world of beta males, the alpha male is king. You must never be afraid to go after what you want, even if it means ruffling a few feathers along the way.

Scientific research has discovered that men who are arrogant, selfish, cunning, manipulative, and over-confident enjoy a greater number of sexual partners and are viewed as infinitely more attractive by women.

Be Dominant, Not Aggressive

Women are also more attracted to men who display more dominant characteristics. One of the main problems with dominance is that it’s often misconstrued as aggression. So, what is the best way to define dominance? A study conducted by the University of New Mexico attempted to break dominance down into three distinct components: social, financial, and physical. In the New Mexico study, the researchers discovered that women rated physically dominant men high in both attractiveness and social dominance.

The effect of financial dominance on attraction, however, was found to be inconsistent to the extent that financial dominance in and of itself was not a reliable indicator of attraction. The New Mexico study also discovered that attractiveness was strongly correlated with the number of one-night stands a man was likely to have.

Prestige Is the Ultimate Aphrodisiac

Another study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology discovered that dominant men were often perceived as sexually attractive, yet dominance had no effect on the man’s overall level of likability. Exploring this topic further, a study carried out by UCLA researchers came to the conclusion that given a choice between a “dominant” man or a “prestigious” man, women have a definite preference for prestigious men.

Prestigious men are still dominant, but they’re dominant in a different way. A prestigious man is neither aggressive nor violent; he’s too smart and efficient to indulge in such high-risk/low reward behavior. Instead, the prestigious man constantly strives to raise his value in the world. He has clear and specific goals.

Whether or not he’s already achieved his goals is immaterial. Having a clear path and having direction in life is crucial when it comes to raising prestige. And as the UCLA research shows, being prestigious is much more attractive than being dominant.

Further research published by researchers at the University of California, Irvine suggests that women who are more sensitive and submissive are viewed as more attractive by men. In fact, any time a person displays behaviors that are consistent with their gender norms (for example, men displaying leadership qualities, and women acting submissive and demure) that person is more likely to be seen as desirable by the opposite sex.

Put simply, men are attracted to women who project feminine qualities, and women are attracted to men who project masculine qualities.

Embrace Your Inner Bad Guy

Another unexpected and enlightening aspect of the research into attraction is that selfishness often makes men appear more attractive. Being strategically selfish and assertive lets women know that you’re more likely to acquire resources and thus more likely to become successful. Your success is, after all, not only your success but your partner and your offspring’s success as well.

Consider the following scenario: a man sits in a coffee shop. He takes a seat and picks up the menu. After studying the menu for several minutes, the man carefully returns the menu to its placeholder before lighting a cigarette.

A moment later, a waiter comes up to the man to take his order. The man looks at the waiter and nods hello. “May I have a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee, please,” the man says with a smile before adding, “Thank you.”

Later, the same man returns to the same coffee shop. The man puts his feet up on the chair next to him. He then lights a cigarette and taps the ash onto the ground as he looks at the menu. He leaves the menu on the table as the waiter approaches.

“Uh, bring me a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee,” he grunts, not even looking at the waiter. The man finishes by dropping his cigarette on the ground and crushing it under his shoe.

The two scenarios outlined above describe an experiment carried out by researchers at the University of Amsterdam.

The aim of the experiment was to examine how people watching the experiment would react to the “polite man” in comparison to the “norm-violating man.” The results of the study were both illuminating and insightful.

People who viewed the footage of the man in the coffee shop rated the “polite man” as less powerful, whereas the “norm-violating man” was rated more powerful (even though the roles were played by the same actor).

The implications of this study are both profound and instructive. The belief that you must be polite and kind to get ahead in life is nothing but an illusion. Women are attracted to men who project confidence and power.

Bold men eat, while nice guys starve. To develop attraction, you must first develop the right mindset. You must be masculine. You must project strength. You must own your environment and your actions. And most important of all, you must be true to yourself and your desires.

[sweeetsky]

What if we decided to live by choice? .

Harry always drove way too fast. Nothing like what he used to do, pushing a hundred and fifteen in one of the Bugatti's to escape his old world problems. A cheap stake high of adrenaline, because let’s face it, his life back then in Hawaii was less domesticated then it is now. So, if you live for nothing as they say, you crash fast and burn slow.  

 But now was different, by all means this is what most people call unfair. Because he's abiding by the state laws of the road. Going an even forty miles per hour, sitting in his precious Mercedes, the one with all the memories, about to carry on through the green light on Third street when a semi-truck comes pushing out of his blind spot and into the right side of his car.

 If you ever knew Harry, you'd know that the kid never liked to leave things alone. Never liked to leave things hanging and unanswered. And maybe that's one of the reasons he could never shut up. How he could never let anything down or give up on anything, or anyone. It was out of his nature to really be "scared".

"Fears just hope saying what if." He said once to whoever would listen, and he'd grin that awful grin of his when he was about to do something wildly bizarre.

 But now he wasn't grinning, and fear, oh fear was fear was fear and Harry right then, when he felt his body lose its gravitational pull, felt his arms snap back into an ungodly angle as he and the car flipped for the eighth time, he knew. He knew he was going to die.

 You don't count your blessings, you eat them. You sever each one out of its vine -like the ribs poking out of Harry's chest. Pick out the seeds- like the organs in his body, one by one shutting down. Cut the fruit- his body, if it were ever to be salvaged would be useless. And you'd hear about the double amputee on the late night news, the one who made it after being hit by a semi-truck and flying off of the highway bridge and he does seminars for other people with missing limbs, and his family would finally come as a collective to support Harry the Hero, overcoming it all. But Harry will never be that lucky.

But, you remember them, you remember your blessings and how they smell like a burning body waiting to become a phoenix. And you bite into it, ignoring the salt taste of ash , watch the juices flow out and down your chin- a greedy little thing to want to live. To beg in the back of your mind and in the sorrow filled places in your heart, to live. A shard of the dashboard glass cuts deep inside Harry's throat digging deeper the harder Harry fights to breathe. Thrashing right underneath his jugular till blood comes spraying out in eerie precision, and he chokes on it, his body gives out and when he can hear the remnants of the car crushing above him, he's gone.

 "I didn't think I'd leave like this... I don't wanna leave like this." Harry is talking somewhere in his head or maybe in the back of an Uber on the way to Heaven or wherever. But he doesn't see anything, it's still pitch black, as if his eyes are still closed, and he'd like it that way for some reason. The blinding light and all was never his thing.

"I was supposed to be home in an hour, we were gonna take the yacht out, go fishing. He finally had this week off, he's gonna be so mad." Harry says in his own mind.

Maybe it's true, that thing about the brain still functioning as if it can, in the last moments of death, and Harry continues to talk to himself, leaving foot prints in the dark.

 "I know it could be for the best and all, and I have no contingency or say so in how this story is supposed to end, but I really didn't want it to be this soon." Harry can hear himself panic finally as if the spit in the back of his throat has finally dried and if his chest could rise again it would pant.

"I didn't even call my mom back... Sophies gonna be pissed... they’re all gonna be so pissed." Harry was thinking of unnecessarily redundant and unimportant things, but those little small things always left the biggest holes.

"A car accident, are you fucking kidding me? He's never gonna be okay after this- I'm so sorry babe..." Harry can feel himself slipping away, like he's being gently pulled into warm unknowing arms.

 "Who's never gonna be okay?" A voice says.

If Harry could, he'd burst into tears.

 Needless to say, if Harry West were to die. It'd be a circus of obscenities, a year or three of annoyance, not because Harry's dead but because of everything around him.

The media, the money, the rumors. But, he'd make sure everyone he loved were taken care of. It was already written down on paper somewhere in his lawyer’s office. And if it were possible, he'd let his spirit somehow cast a warm spell.

It's alright, I love you all, you can let me go now.

And he'd rest, watch over his best friends and his sisters.

He'd whisper sweet sweet nothings into Zayns ear when he's asleep, as if he were alive, he'd be lying if he said he'd let him go so easily, but he'd learn... maybe.

 "You can open your eyes now." The voice says, it's neither feminine or masculine, just a voice with enough vibrato to get his attention.

Harry is afraid for some reason, it always feels like a fast rush into a scam, and honestly he isn’t sure if he’s ready to see pearly white gates or rock and roll hell fire, yet t’s been too long. Weeks, months, years? Harry isn’t sure, but time feels absent and as a wanderer he’d used to think that would be a good thing, but now it just feels wrong. An impending hunger, a loss of caution he’d never thought he’d miss.

“Yeah, c’mon, you’re almost there.”

What is this? Harry asks in the pit of his mind, and it feels like the first thought he’s ever had. This could be birth.

“You’ll never know with your eyes closed.” The voice says.

Harry means to say, “what?” But it comes out as a gargled sigh and his throat feels vile. Parched, cracked and dry like the floors of the Mojave. But his eyes open, his lids feel stuck to his brows because the light is blindingly bright and all at the same time he feels like he hasn’t slept in millennia.  

“You’re hungry.” The voice says, and Harry still can’t focus on a thing, it’s all white and bright and his eyes are begging for color.

But how the hell can he be hungry when he feels like a sore thumb personified.

“Trust me.” The voice sounds soothing almost melancholic, but amused. “You are.”

Harry feels his mouth open, still looking up into nothing, eyes stinging till something red is poured between his lips and before Harry can realize what is happening, why he’s reacting the way he is, he can’t get enough.

He swallows it down, forgets to look for whoever is pouring the substance in his mouth like a waterfall and basks in its salvation.

Harry is sitting up now, neck arching, tongue out like it’s instinct as his hands curl around a wrist. He sucks into what feels like flesh. Severed skin ripped in two, giving him all that he needs to feel alive again. And he’s hungry, he is hungry, the voice was right as he makes a satisfied sound besides himself.

“There you go.” The voice chuckles softly, “easy… it’s okay take your time.”

Harry gives out no questions, not now, he needs this more than anything, just a little bit more and he’ll stop.

“This will hurt a bit.” The voice says next, and Harry doesn’t pay attention till he feels his back hit against something hard.

“Fuck.” He groans and suddenly it’s like a mist of thick fog is clearing up as he sees a man crowding his space, the light behind them wraps around like a sullen halo.

They said, you were pretty. But Harry doesn’t see them speak, more like he’s heard him in his head.

“Hey.” They say gently out loud, he blinks softly as if he was always waiting. Harry follows his finger as it traces to the side of his cheek, and picks up a drop of blood.

“Woah, that’s-“

“Blood, yeah. You took a lot, but from what you’ve been through, It’s forgivable.”

“I-…” Harry starts but he feels heavy all over like his boots are sinking into quick sand. “I… I don’t think I understand.” He panics as he tries to lift himself up.

But the person, this guy pushes him back gently and Harry has his hands wrapped around his wrists and he can feel the cool metal accents in his jacket.

“You’ll be alright but, you need to lay down.” He says without making it sound like a suggestion and pushes Harry back till he’s laying down again, moving thin strips of hair away from his blood stained lips.

“I thought I…died… I’m dead right?” Harry starts again, this time tears are waiting to fall.

“Just listen okay.” The guy looks back at something reaching for a wet wipe for a second before he turns and smiles warmly, wiping all traces of blood away. “The blood I gave you should do you good for a while, I don’t have much time to explain but you did die.”  He looks at Harry as he starts to panic for real this time.

“Shh, calm down. Listen to me okay? You’ll be fine, really. Just… whatever you seen in movies and all that shit, isn’t true. Well most of it technicalities and all but, you’re perfectly capable of living with other humans and to sun bathe, like you usually do. You’re just aware now, and I know it’s scary especially for your kind but you’re different.”

Harry stares at him wordlessly, dumbfounded for the very first time. But the man continues to talk, throwing away the wipe in his hand. Harry tunes back in somehow as he says, “and a word of advice, you’re only as powerful as you want to be.”

“What the fuck does any of that shit mean?” Harry shouts back. “What does-where you going?!” He asks as he watches the man open the door of the hospital room, he pauses before he leaves.

“I’ll see you soon Harry.”

 Harry spends the next fifteen minutes grumbling to himself wincing as he pulled the IV needle out from his arm. This had to be some weird fucked up dream, yet, here he is, laying on a gurney trying to make sense of it all. It had to be a lie, if he were to look at this logically, his clothes from what he remembers putting on this morning are still intact, his body still a wholesome whole, he just felt weak like someone had drained him dry.

He fumbles with the nurse’s pager trying to find it on the side of his gurney as he struggles to get up, his knees bending and wobbling on groggy weight. Harry needed to get out of here, he needed to call Zayn.

If this was real, he also needed to go home amp up on some serious pain killers and sleep till he’s new again.

Instead just as he was thinking about him again, his mind wondering and worrying tightening a brutal knot in his stomach, Zayn rushes in.

He stands there for a second, Harry can see his chest move up and down frantically, his face unreadable. Harry is weak as he is slumps back on the gurney barely getting a word out before Zayn practically flies through the space between them to hug Harry tight.

It’s a jumble of words that they’re both saying in unison. A mixture of thankful rhythms that they can both decipher somehow. Harry holds on to him just as tight, his face buried into his neck, his shoulders already shaking.

“Kya hal ai?” Zayn asks in a worried rush but moves a bit to get a look at Harry, his hands gripping his face. His eyes are wide and red, aching.

“I mean-“

“I’m… okay. Better now, you’re here.” Harry honestly looks like he’s about to pass out.

Zayn holds him tighter, grounds him. “You scared the fuck out of me… it’s not your fault but-I-“

“I know… I know... I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I was just driving and then everything was gone.” He’s holding on to Zayns jacket as if he might disappear fists curling around leather fabric. “It was so bad... it was so bad. I thought I left you.” His nose is already red, and tears are sliding down his face. Zayn stares at him with as much sanity he can gather. Then Harry goes still and Zayn knows him all too well before his cheeks are swollen red and he’s hearing Harry’s short stocky breaths that sound like pure terror, not joy or excitement. Just fear is fear is fear.

Zayn doesn’t bother with a nurse or a doctor he knows what to do.

 Relief doesn’t wash over Zayn for at least a year and even then, it’s just radio silence when he isn’t feeling jittery, worried, overloaded with overthinking, and somehow radio silence is worse. Harry is traumatized he knows. The accident did more to him than expected, yet Zayn is patient and understanding he’s gone through it with Kelly.

But it doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel like Harry will bounce back like he usually does. Maybe he’s not supposed to either way. It’ll take baby steps he tells himself as he sips on a drink, eats his lunch and feels the watchful eyes of his parents from up above. Literally he’s eating lunch at their mural and in any case he feels a bit better where he can line up his thoughts, encase them back to their shelves like books and check on them later.

He still can’t shake it but whatever.

When Zayn walks into the penthouse, he can hear the soft buzz of music bouncing against the walls and it warms his heart a little bit.

“Haz?” Zayn calls out as he walks down the hallway. He opens the door to their bedroom but, doesn’t see Harry anywhere at first. Instead an array of vinyl’s and books lay on their ruffled bedsheets, the duvet is half way off the bed and Zayn sits where it’s peeled over, warm and heavy with Harry’s light scent.  It’s almost foreign as he takes it all in, they haven’t slept in the same bed for the last couple of months now. Harry wanted his space and he respects that. But it doesn’t stop his heart from jumping just a little bit.

The room feels airy all of a sudden, empty even though it’s filled with a familiar voice he finds comforting. His back hits the pillows when he reads over a Marvin Gaye vinyl from his own collection but something pricks at his spine. Zayn lifts up the pillow behind him and finds the open pages of a journal. Harry’s journal.

Zayn was always curious what filled his pages, sometimes Harry would let him read things here and there, things that usually made him blush and awe at, but those days died and instead of scribbled cursive, Zayn took the journal into his hands, the pages opened to a sea of surprisingly detailed drawings. Black ink covered majority of the pages, harsh curves and lines, it was shocking honestly. Not that Harry was drawing, but Harry was sketching something meticulously sinister.

“Do you like it?”

Zayn heard Harry’s voice break his panic and distant curiosity. He closed the journal just as he heard him, tucked it deep into the pillows.

“What?” Zayn sounded almost breathless, Harry wasn’t even looking at him. His back was turned standing over by his desk, turning the vinyl to its other side and putting it back on the record.

“Franks album?” Zayn was still looking at his bare back, teeth biting into his bottom lip. “He sent it over with some other stuff, took the bastard long enough innit he?” Harry lightly laughs, looking through a thick magazine now.

“Yeah, it sounds really good.” Zayn realizes his hand is still tucked under the pillow where he threw the journal before running that hand over his head. “Harry?” He says abruptly. Harry doesn’t budge, still looking through the magazine. “Harry.” He says again, “can you sit with me?” Zayn pats the empty space next to him.

Harry puts the magazine down this time and does as he’s asked. His feet are bare, only a pair of black joggers sits on his loosely at his hips. Zayn can still see his hair is wet from a shower. softly quietly he moves hanging strands behind Harry’s ear. It’s a small victory when Harry doesn’t flinch. But his eyes stare into Zayn but for the first time, he can’t really read them.  Zayn keeps a hand against the nape of Harry’s neck where it’s eerily hot.  Harry moves closer then, pressing his cheek against Zayns, lines his jaw right where the friction of his scruff scratches against Harry’s smooth skin. It sends dripping sparks of chills down Zayns back. Harry stops right next to his ear.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Harry confesses, and even though the music gets louder, Zayn can still hear his hesitance, the shake in his voice, and his throat goes dry.

“I…” Zayn grips him tighter, he feels Harry’s warm breath at the curve of his jaw. “I don’t want anything… just you Haz. Whatever that is.”  

Harry laughs, and it almost sounds cruel and sad, Zayns expression is twisted, something like confusion and worry, if he looked deeper, maybe anger now as Harry drew back. Stone cold and apathetic as they stare at one another.

“Did you look at my journal?” Harry asks, Zayn eyes go wide again then narrow giving a curt nod.

The string of silence feels like years when Zayn decides to speak again, “please… just tell me. Why won’t you let me in? Why are you acting like nothing happened?”

“Are you a fucking therapist now?” Harry looks at him coldly, his pink lips puffed. Zayn twists to drag the journal out from its hiding place and opens to the worn out parts of the drawings.

“Are you fucking Michael Angelo now?” He spits back and shoves the journal at Harry as he snatches it back.

“Fuck off.” Harry stands now and walks into the closet and Zayn gets off of the bed.

“You don’t just get to fucking hide all this shit from me, like I don’t fucking exist.” His stomach bottoms out for some reason, all the harbored feelings claw their way out from a hidden pit he’s refused to look at, the bravado in his voice is shaky but nonetheless there.

“What? You think all of a sudden I’m going to open up to you when you want me to?” Harry comes back trainers on his feet as he tries to zip up his hoodie, forsaking a shirt underneath. “You looked through my shit! You know how I feel about that. Even so, I’m not gonna fucking sit here and kum-ba-fucking-yah with you about the shit that I see, dreams that I fucking have. I don’t do that shit. Not with this.”

Zayn feels another twist in his chest and ignores the burn settling behind his eyes. “You’re acting like if I don’t understand. Like I’m casting you out or some shit!”

Harry is almost out the door before he stops, “you already fucking did.” He breathes, and gets his keys from the desk. “You and Sophie put me in that fucking place when I begged you not to. I fucking begged you Zayn.” His eyes feel raw and his voice won’t stop shaking. “That shit worked for Kelly and you thought it’d work for me? Clever mate. God knows Soph needed that place more than I ever did.”

Zayn moves then, grabs his arm turning him around before he tries to leave. “You don’t get to fucking say that.” Zayn searches Harry’s empty eyes, it almost makes him ask, where he’s gone all this time, why he’s stopped letting him in when all he wanted to do was save him to tell him he’s seen it too. “Harry you wanted… you hurt yourself, what were we supposed to do? Your sister was trying to look out for you.”

He moves close, even when Harry braces himself he’s stoic to it all. “Harry please, I know… I know somethings changed. And I’m not talking about us, I know… “His voice goes soft despite himself as he swallows. “We have to talk about it… what happened.”

“We don’t actually.” Harry looks bizarre with no emotion on his face. He can hear the cramping thud of Zayns pulse ringing in his own ear, but never his thoughts, that’s never changed. “I just want you to drop it. I just want you… to forgive me already. I can’t fucking keep walking around with you worrying like I’ll explode.” He clenches his eyes shut in frustration, “I gave you your out and you wouldn’t take it, remember that.”

Zayns hands are shaking but he folds them into fists as he watches Harry leave.

When the front door slams shut, it’s the loudest he’s ever heard it close.

Moments later, Zayn traces a ringed finger on the hairline fractures framing the door like mossy vines. He stands back a little looking at them, how they contrast to the crisp white of the walls. He thinks of how they look just as harsh as the lines Harry drew in his journal.

 Harry doesn’t bother with the car, not that it scares him. He just isn’t going very far. He finds himself about three blocks down from his apartment, walking in brisk strides as he tries to cool off. He can hear them again, scratching against his eardrums it makes him crane his neck and shudder. He takes a short cut to a park not too far and by the time he gets there the streetlights are on in the skies straining sunset. He thinks about Zayn through the whole walk.

People pass by like slow moving water, blurring into his thwarted backdrop and before he can contain it, he feels his jaw ache. Stress makes his vision worse and when he turns to look at a stranger about seven feet away they stare at him, and their face changes. It morphs into his constant nightmare, a demon pecked in dotty burnt flesh, only a shredded hole for a mouth. Harry stops in his tracks and closes his eyes as it comes closer and closer stammering in its long steps.  He can feel it’s drowning presence, and if he opens his eyes it’ll get him, rip him into pieces. The voices get louder one long eerie screech after the other, Harry covers his ears.

“You look so silly.” Harry suddenly hears a familiar voice. It breaks the tantrum swirling in his mind.

It’s only him again, the guy from the hospital, the one who gave him blood to drink. He’s standing there in front of Harry, a beret on his head and pink docks on his feet, sucking on a lollipop.

Harry only scowls before finding a bench to sit on. He appears on the other side. It’s annoying really, they haven’t showed up more than a handful random times since the hospital incident and in all honesty even if Harry had a million questions and a million (not so nice) things to say to them, he doesn’t bother.

Maybe this visit is another lesson. He’s been practicing controlling premonitions. Even if most of them are futile.

“I didn’t think the change would make you so quiet.” He says simply, “I’m disappointed in you Harry.”

“Get in line then.” Harry blinks, he watches inattentively at a group of guys playing basketball, their skin wet with sweat, the ball dribbles in a constant arrhythmic pattern. He keeps watching hoping the other will go away.  

“I’m not going anywhere right now.” He hears him say. “You feel yourself getting stronger.” It isn’t framed as a question but Harry answers with a nod.

“Good.” He sighs, “It won’t be easy but I’m-“

“Why does it feel like it’s making me crazy?” Harry interjects in his thoughts, speaking Is unnecessary. He grazes his thumb over his own lips eyes glued to the basketball court a good fifteen feet away. The sky looks like a bruised peach now.

He can hear the other sigh deeply and make a popping noise as the lollipop leaves his mouth.  “It’s not an it. The thing you call craziness is a part of you, always has been.”

Harry looks at him this time incredulously and partly annoyed, everything had to feel hopeless didn’t it? Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he really did die in a car accident or when he tried to slip into a lifetime of sleep in Sophies old apartment, a white carpet bleached in red.

“You can’t die. So don’t do that shit again Harry.” He spoke. “Not that way anyway.” He sighed bored as he talked. “You really should stop being a dick head to your boyfriend by the way.”

Harry took this as his que to leave, but before he could Mr. Mystery was already at his side, pushing him down.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Harry said aloud, it earned him stares from people who passed by.

“I need you to get your shit together. You’re one of a kind honestly. And you’ve wasted so much time already.” He sighed again a deep furrowing brow growing on his face. “You’re seeing demons, having premonitions, hearing everything, seeing everything, feeling everything it’s a cluster fuck of senses I know, trust me I know. But I need you to put that all away now. I taught you as much as I could in a very very short amount of time but.. that demon you seen next time won’t just stare at you, it’ll want to kill you, you and everyone you give a shit about.” He pauses to look at Harry, “I’m also seeing that list has become short.”

Harry, presses his hands together to keep from punching him square in the jaw, even if he did again, it wouldn’t even plot a dent on that perfect face. “People change.” Is his only explanation.

“Yes, they do. They also trust. You’re going to need people you trust just as much as you need to find your control dude.” He puts the lollipop back into his mouth. “Vamp hybrid or not you’re lucky you have someone in your corner trying to understand you. People search a lifetime for that.”

  Kelly makes thinks sound so easy. Zayn had been on the phone with her for the past hour, she called after he seen what Harry did to the door, but he didn’t tell her about it, or the things from five months ago. But she picked up on the broken hints in his voice, his evasive clipped manner he’d be in after a fight, and he was in more of those this year than he cares to count. You didn’t give up on me. Yeah that was true but Kelly wasn’t pulling doors out of their hinges, drawing and writing disturbing things on the walls or in her journal, beating dirtbags to a bloody pulp or sinking her teeth into his jugular.

Harry would cry, he’d forgive him, Harry would draw away from him or he’d feel flighty, they’d fight, and Harry was right, he was given an out a long time ago. Yet, he stayed, the reason- he’d like to think was somewhere between love, loyalty and care. But honestly the real reason was starting to evade him maybe it was just madness. At this point anything was possible.

Zayn sat back on the sofa now he changed out of his clothes into something more comfortable and watched the sunset with a tall class of wine. The sky was purple the gloomiest shades of lilac and peach he’s ever seen. The window sits open in the hot apartment a small breeze carries the curtain out as it flutters gently in the air. Zayn gives his wine glass a lengthy sip as he discarded his thoughts.

Kelly was right, he never gave up on her, he’s waited patiently, stood by when he was needed, did everything that he could. He wasn’t fucking perfect but he tried, and fuck Harry for not seeing that. The glass gets empty and Zayn finds himself pouring another after the next.  A coil of anger builds inside the hidden pit in his stomach, it’s flushed with wine, but righteously it rumbles with anger at something spoiled, something he doesn’t like feeling but Zayn lets it wash over him.  

When he knocks out, he dreams, he dreams of a body long, bare skin showing through a slashed t-shirt, a body that lays still as blood pools around his feet. When Zayn steps closer the person on the ground moves to reveal their face. It’s Harry, he smiles faintly just enough to where Zayn can see his bloody teeth, molars sharp, but not as sharp as the knife Zayn has clasped in his hand.

He wakes up in a jolt, a little breathless and shocked to see Harry, staring down at him. He’s sitting on the coffee table as Zayn stays still on the couch. He’s come home.

Zayns expression doesn’t change his feelings from before have not pacified since he left.

“I’m going to leave you.” He says bitterly, his voice groggy but certain, he’s sick of being the only one looking hurt. He can be cruel too.

“That so?” Harry asks, hands clasping together, a mild type of surprise rings in his voice, he’s careful not to clench his hands into fists.

“Yeah. We should have been over months ago don’t you think?” Zayn blinks back at him.

It works, Harry looks like he did hours ago, hurt somehow, angrier. “Yeah, maybe.” It doesn’t last though, after a while his fists sit flat on his own thighs, leaning forward slightly.

“What makes you think, I’ll let you out that door?” Harry is serious, his eyes go clear in the dark apartment. Traffic light from below stream in thin awkward lines on the walls.

“You’d do anything for me.” He simply puts it.  Harry closes his part lips and looks as if he’s thinking about it. What’s the point when it’s true?  It doesn’t stop the trickle of fear wander through his mind though, partially deterring his boldness. He wants to tell him about the dream, that he killed him, blood at his feet and dripping down his arms like he was shedding an old skin. Allah forgive him. It tasted sweet.

Harry, suddenly leans down and kisses Zayns forehead, he doesn’t stir, only stares at Harry.

“I would.” He breathes in his ear. “I’d also go out that door and bring you right back. Somehow, either way you look at it, we’ll end up here if we tried leaving each other or however you want to put it. I’m yours. Nothing’s ever gonna put us apart, I realize that… and I can’t die now, but I’d find a way if you do.” Harry sounds cold, but warm all at the same time, and Zayn’s head is spinning. For a second he’s not sure what to say as he stares at him.

“Fetch the knife for me then.” Zayn can’t believe his own voice, but it doesn’t stop him. He tastes wine and anger in his own mouth. “I’ll get you on your way.”  

Harry raises a brow then scuffs. “Zayn, I’d rather snap your neck.”

He cranes it just then, so beautiful and ready, Harry wants to dig his teeth into the patch of smooth skin. Not yet though not yet. “Go ahead.” Zayn pleas, “if you’re fast enough you can drain me, isn’t that what you want?”

They stare at each other testing each other in the silence. Zayn can’t hide the way his heart pounds and Harry can’t either. Harry’s the first to look away, he gets up from the coffee table and walks away.

Zayn lets out a breath, the colors in the dark swirl above his head.

A minute later and he sits up, his shaky thoughts have clouded his better judgment, and he’s not sure what to feel after that.

It feels like an inconsistent buzz under his skin, he knows this could be wrong. He plays the words over in his head. “What makes you think, I’d let you walk out?” …. “You’d do anything for me.” Zayn closes his eyes for what feels like eternity. This is wrong.

He hears Harry call his name from the bedroom.

 When he reaches the bed, Harry is already under the covers the hoodie long gone from his broad shoulders. He doesn’t move then, instead they look at each other and Harry’s eyes are glossy.

“I’ll tell you everything.” He says silently apologetic in a way Zayn can only sigh to.

“No.” He says quietly, “show me.”

Harry releases a shaky breath, “okay.” He bites his bottom lip then. “I will.”

“And now?” Zayn can feel Harry shifting closer, he doesn’t elude himself into thinking he can touch him, so he doesn’t. Instead he tucks his hand under his head as support.

Harry hasn’t touched Zayn in almost a year, well after the accident they tried a few weeks after the accident, and Harry bit him, right at his jugular so hard Zayn almost passed out. So really it’s been out of fear that Harry would lose control. And even then Harry didn’t want to be touched at times, it wasn’t Zayn’s fault and he knew.

“Now… can you stay in bed with me?” Harry asks, he’s on his stomach, elbows bent in front of him, his curls splaying over his shoulder. Zayn scuffs and nods his head. He closes his eyes again but they open when he feels Harry closer, shifting under their sheets. Zayn feels too lazy to ask, but he does anyway.

“What do you want from me?” He says, eyes heavy, the sheets move lower to the base of Harry’s spine, his skin smooth like a valley that goes on forever.

Harry moves, leaning into Zayns space as he kisses him on the mouth, slow and focused as Zayn finally gives and kisses him back.  “Harry.” Zayn warns.

Harry pulls back breathlessly, almost offended, “ I got what I want. Now kiss me back” he nudges at his arm, and pulls him closer by his t shirt. “kiss me.”

Zayn can’t help but give in to the consistent feel of his lips finally touching his own again, the soft strands of curls that get caught between their lips and Zayn pushes against it holds Harry’s face with two hands now and Harry is eager for his lips and how wet they’re getting, it makes him moan when he feels his tongue digging into his mouth as he lets him in.

Zayn draws back and pulls the covers off with one swift motion. Harry is on his back naked already. “Typical.” Zayn chides, running one straight line from his sternum to his stomach, if he looked closely the butterfly flutters softly at his touch.

Harry gathers his hair away from his face and smiles, that lop sided smirk, “just trying to stay consistent here…” He looks up at Zayn now and see’s galaxies in his topaz eyes before kissing him.  “I’m still the same.”  Zayn straddles him breathing out a sigh. He will not elude himself into thinking it so. “Lying isn’t going to change anything” He bites down on Harry’s lips “I still hate you.”  Harry can’t help but whimper Zayns hips weighing on top of him”I know.” he’s breathless as Zayn rolls on top of him, hips slow like sliding honey”I know.” 

#tw: suicide mention #tw: blood mention #tw: slight violence #tw: emotional manipulation #what did i do