#but i think he seeks out thrills and grows bored if nothing special is coming of it

[spring-lxcked]

it's so so so important to me that william's motivation for his initial killings is just like. because he wants to. he's a serial killer, he doesn't have some deep emotional motivation. the discovery of remnant is just like. additional motivation beyond Enjoying Murder.

#—— ✧ ooc » #i fully understand people wanting him to have like. 'the thing that made him start killing' or whatever #but my will is just a serial killer like straight up he prob committed his first murder before his first business was even off the ground #and it was probably an adult who just. pissed him off enough when he'd already been Considering Trying Murder. #(because he's been considering it for many many years prior to killing) #i mentioned on his bio page that he might've not kept killing if not for discovering remnant and like #i mean do i think he'd NEVER kill again? prob not #but i think he seeks out thrills and grows bored if nothing special is coming of it #the murder might've been far and few between if he hadn't discovered remnant and possession and agony #and decided to Become A God #idk william fucks me up because he had potential to be like. idk has anyone else read da.n salva.to's short story? #the one that was sort of connected to DD.LC where the woman murders another woman for NO REASON except to just like #experience it? know what it's like to kill someone? #will's first kill vibes #i do imagine that post his 'death' his shit gets discovered and it just. keeps growing. #like. oh yeah he's The Killer surrounding the restaurants. but also if you go back death has followed him for awhile. #i'm shaking him around in a jar

[ladyfogg]

Black Sea

Black Sea

Fic Summary: James has been tense for days, trying to wrangle the hotel’s undead residents while preparing for the upcoming historical landmark accreditation. Thankfully for your husband, you know exactly what he needs to make him relax. Bruises & Bitemarks Masterpost. The Evans Masterpost.

Fic Rating: 18+ 

Fic Song: Black Sea by Natasha Blume

Pairing: James Patrick March/Serial Killer Female Reader

Warnings: Seriously guys, 18+ for real. Explicit Smut, Pegging, Rimming, Dom/Sub, Oral Sex, Face-sitting, language, Praise kink, and probably more.

Married life suits you quite well.

After the decades of wanting James Patrick March, he’s finally in your grasp and your bed and you couldn’t be happier. Shortly after the wedding, the Countess asks to meet with you where she showers you with gifts and assures you there are no hard feelings. While you do have a few choice words for her over her treatment of James, it’s all water under the bridge. Your husband is thoroughly yours and his ex-wife no longer poses any sort of threat.

Your marital suite is now yours and James’s inner sanctum. No matter what is going on at the hotel, your space is untouchable. The moment the two of you enter the room, everything else gets left behind.

At least, that’s how it usually is.

Lately, James is having a difficult time letting go. The threat of the Cortez being torn down in the future was always minimal. However, as time progresses and wealthy philanthropists try to buy the building, the need to achieve historical status becomes a necessity. Of course, that means no more killings or disappearances. For someone like James, it’s a hard habit to break but he’s willing to make the change if it means keeping his home.

Most of his frustrations come out in the bedroom, which you thoroughly enjoy. The trunk of sex toys you have has gotten quite a bit of use during your marriage. Mostly on you. But when James arrives late one evening, fuming with anger, you have a feeling he’ll need a little something extra to take his mind off his troubles.

“Idiots, the lot of them,” he grumbles in a huff as he walks through the wall. “I do not know how they expect to keep themselves anchored to this mortal plane with no hotel. You would think the threat of absolute extinction would be enough to sate their blood lust.”

“Rough day, darling?” you ask, sliding off the bed where you had been lounging as you waited.

 “Is it that obvious?” he sneers.

You pout and slink over to him, letting the sash of your silk black robe fall open so he can see your naked body, still covered in bruises and bite marks from the previous evening’s festivities. “Don’t snap at me because the others can’t follow the rules. I haven’t murdered anyone in years.”

He sighs heavily as you wrap your arms around his waist. “You’re right, my dear. Apologies.”

You lay a trail of hot kisses up his neck. “I know exactly what you need to take your mind off it.”

James grabs your upper arms and pushes you back, not too rough but rough enough for you to stop. “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for our little games tonight. I’d be more than happy to watch you take care of yourself should you feel so inclined.”

“Darling, I think you are the one who needs to be taken care of.”

James quirks an eyebrow but does not argue. As he studies your gaze, he recognizes the same mischievous cunning he’s come to associate with pleasurable experiences. “Why do I have the sense that you have some tricks up your sleeves?”

“Because you know me so well.” You kiss him roughly, teeth biting down on his lower lip.

James grunts when you do, his arms snaking around your waist so he can pull you flush against his chest. “What are your plans with me, Mrs. March?”

“Get on the bed.”

Your tone is low and stern, leaving no room for argument. As you slip out of his grasp, James excitedly slips his suit jacket off, watching you cross the room. Against the far wall, your trunk of treasures sits on an antique chest of drawers, flanked by two red candles. The moment you light them, you hear the bed springs as James takes a seat.

“So what is it tonight, darling?” he asks in an almost bored tone. “Whips? Chains? Handcuffs? Gags?”

“No, no, none of that,” you say, casting a look over your shoulder. “Well, unless you’re a bad boy.”

James has slipped off his shoes and is in the process of unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. While he certainly looks interested, there’s also a sardonic smirk on his face, as if he’s doubting your ability to take his mind off his troubles.

Which is incredibly laughable since you have proven yourself to be a delightful distraction over the years.

“This is something new,” you say, opening the trunk. Inside, all manner of provocative and sinful toys sit posed and ready for use. A fair number of them have been used already. But tonight, you have a special item that you’ve been eyeing for some time. One you know James will love. “Take your clothes off.”

“You’re being so mysterious. You have me intrigued.”

“That’s the point.”

You glance over, watching as he meticulously removes his clothes until he’s down to nothing. The sight of his naked body always thrills you and you take time to admire it. James notices, raising his eyebrow.

“You look like you wish to devour me,” he says.

“I do. Now, close your eyes.”

James humors you and does as he’s told. Once you’re sure he’s not looking, you get yourself ready. You can see him tilting his head in your direction, listening to the sounds as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re doing. Ready, you secure your robe once more before slinking over to stand in front of him. You study his handsome face, reaching out to stroke his cheek before you gently tilt his chin up and lean down for a kiss.

James responds instantly, his hand coming up to seize the back of your head and grip it tight. In retaliation, you slip your hand around his throat and squeeze. He gasps in delight, eyes rolling back in his head when you forcibly break the kiss.

“We’re going to do a little role reversal tonight, my love,” you say, thumb pressing into his windpipe. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll make you come so hard you’ll blackout. If you’re bad, well…” You lick the shell of his ear, feeling him shudder. “That can be fun too.”

You ease up on his throat and James growls at you with a smirk. “Color me intrigued. What did you grab from our little treasure chest?”

You don’t answer his question. With a firm hand on his chest, you push him onto his back, leaving his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. A wink and a coy smile are all you offer before leaving a trail of precious kisses and bitemarks down his chest, towards his cock, which is already swelling in anticipation. James hums with approval, tucking one hand behind his head as a cushion while he watches your movements.  

Your hand wraps around his cock, leisurely stroking his length while your lips continue to kiss his pale skin. You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve marked and claimed him, leaving red irritated skin in your wake. That primal urge wants to come out, but you hold it at bay. Not now. Not yet.

Gently, you lavish the head of cock with attention as your hand drops from his shaft to stroke his thigh. You hear his breathing hitch, see the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his saliva. His eyes close for a moment as he simply enjoys your attention, the tension and stress starting to melt away. You squeeze both thighs hard as you take him further into your mouth. Not all the way, which you know he wants. Just enough to tease him with what he likes.

When his eyes flutter back open, they’re hooded with desire. “I must say, I truly enjoy you at this angle,” he says, peering down the front of your robe which has started to slip open. “It’s a particularly erotic visual—what the fuck are you doing?”

Without warning, you seize the backs of his thighs and push his legs up so that his knees touch his chest, leaving him far more exposed than he’s ever been in your presence. You let his cock slide out of your mouth as you straighten your stance, the thin sash of your robe falling away so James can see the flesh-colored dildo hanging between your legs, firmly secured to your hips by a leather harness.

“Helping you relax, darling,” you say in a falsely innocent tone, your hand stroking his thigh. “You’ve had me in this position. It’s only fair that I have you.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but whatever retort he prepared never reaches your ears because a split second later, you kneel by the edge of the bed, running your tongue across his tight ring of muscles. What you do manage to hear is something between a gasp and a moan, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

James loves to be dominant. Always has. And while most of the time that suits you just fine, there are others when you’ve taken the reins. During those particular times, you’ve noticed James’s excitement seems to grow. The idea of being overpowered by the woman he loves thrills him. You can tell by the look in his eyes, the delight and surprise at the turn of events, and the way his body molds to your whims.

Even now his hips arch upward, seeking more friction than what you’re currently providing. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and giving it a rough squeeze.

James thrashes against the bed. “Your mouth is truly a godsend.”

“Obviously not if you’re still stringing words together.” You jerk him off roughly, wrapping your lips around his pucker and sucking.

James throws his head back with a loud gasp, fists twisting the sheets. Empowered by his response, can’t help but keep your eyes on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together and his teeth dig into his bottom lip…if either of you showed up on camera you’d be recording him. His movements push him further up on the bed and you eagerly follow, kneeling between his legs on the soft mattress.

As you continue to loosen him with your tongue, you take your hand off his cock so you can reach for the bottle of lube in the pocket of your robe.

“You’re being an exceptionally good boy, my dear husband,” you coo, laying a bite on the round cheek in front of you.

Taking your hand off him, you uncap the bottle and let the cool liquid drip onto his overheated skin. James hisses only to moan when you start to spread the lube around his waiting hole.

“Darling, please.”

You pause, glancing up at him. “Is that begging I hear? Already?”

His cheeks are flush red which has traveled down to his chest. A chest that’s moving rapidly with each heavy breath. It’s a gorgeous visual that you’ll never get out of your head.

He is shameless in his need, reaching down to fist his cock. “You wouldn’t hear begging if you’d get on with it.”

Quick as a flash, straddle his body so you can grab the bindings attached to the headboard. “I told you to be good,” you scold, seizing his wrists and binding them. “That means, listening to me and not touching yourself. Also, don’t be an ass. I’m doing you a favor you know.”

“Is that so?” Once his hands are secured, he bucks up against you, again seeking the friction you deny.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you, James. If you’re going to be rude about it, I’d much rather gag you. Is that what you want? To be gagged? Because that’s not all it’ll be. I’ll gag you and then go fuck off for a few hours, leaving you here, naked, and begging for me. Is that what you want?”

To your delight, James purses his lips and doesn’t speak. With a grin, you wrap your hands around his throat and give it a loving squeeze as you bend down to steal a kiss. It’s quick, just enough for him to want more before you shimmy down his body, back to the space between his legs. Shoving his knees up again, you swirl the lube around the loosening muscles with your thumb, watching with delight at the way James closes his eyes and throws his head back.

The sounds coming from your husband are positively sinful and you can’t get enough. His voice even climbs several octaves when you push a lubed-up butt plug in past his prepped muscles. His body shifts and clamps down around the toy, keeping it inside him.

“W-What did you do?” he asks, fingers digging into the bindings around his wrists.

“Just used something to help get you ready for me,” you purr, stroking his thighs again. “In the meantime…”

You slide his cock back into your mouth, causing James to exhale a string of obscenities. God you love the way he fills your mouth, not to mention the way he moans every time you suck him off. To have such a powerful man like James at your mercy sends a rush of pride through you. This man, this titan of industry and murder, is reduced to a sweating, shaking mass of limbs just by your mouth and hands. It’s empowering and addicting.

You pull your mouth off him, lewdly sticking out your tongue to lick the underside of him. “Such a beautiful sight,” you say, hand still wrapped tightly around him. “I look forward to seeing you on all fours.”

“Please…”

“Keep begging, darling. It turns me on.”

You lose yourself in the taste of your husband, sucking on his cock with practiced skill and precision. His body constantly moves under you, thrashing and flexing, trying to set the pace even when you have his hips pinned to the bed by your upper body. He really can’t help trying to take control even when he’s completely at your mercy.

You can feel he’s close but it’s not time yet. There’s no way you’re going to let him come without fucking him first.

Letting him slip from your mouth, you pull back, heart slamming against your ribcage as you see tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“I was so damn close!” he whines.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

Grabbing his hips, you flip him onto his stomach, forcing the bindings to twist. You maneuver him onto his knees, admiring the visual for a second: muscled and scarred back with taut muscles, perfectly round ass with a plug begging for you to replace with something bigger. You hook your finger through the ring and pull it out, listening to the shaky breath James exhales.  

He’s so ready for you.

You let the robe slip from your frame as you kneel behind him.

“Gorgeous. Just gorgeous. You look so ready for me,” you tease, lubing up the dildo with one hand as you run the other hand down his backside.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

“Please what, James?”

He doesn’t respond right away. You can feel him clinging to that last bit of control, which definitely won’t do. Fisting his dark hair, you yank his head back.

“Please what, James?” you repeat. “If I have to ask again, I’ll just leave you here. Hard and open, waiting…”

“Please have your wicked way with me.”

With a smirk, you push into him. Between the toy and your prep, it’s almost a smooth thrust. Keyword: almost. Instinctively, his body tenses, forcing him to clamp down around the head of your toy.

You drape yourself along his back, licking and sucking on his shoulder. “Relax, baby boy. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

You feel his shaking body exhale and the toy slides further in, more and more until you bottom out, your thighs snuggly tucked against his.

“There,” you say, stroking his hip. “That’s a good boy.”

You pull out and thrust back in. James throws his head back and lets out the most guttural moan you’ve ever heard. You do it again, thrilled by his visceral reaction. You take him roughly, thrusting in and out at a steady pace, loving the way his body moves under yours. You get why he loves to fuck you this way.

Holding this power over someone is addicting and you know you and your husband will be playing this little game for centuries to come.

Your mouth keeps busy, sucking and biting at James’s throat, marking the pale flesh. His noises are to die for. Moans and grunts, occasionally broken by swears and your name.

“Fuck, darling. Fucking hell, yes!”

“Do you like it, husband?” you coo in his ear. “Do you like your wife taking you from behind?”

“Yes!”

“Such a good boy taking my cock like this,” you groan, reveling in the sounds of his pleas and your hips slapping against his. “Such a good boy, letting me take care of you.”

“My dear, please. Please!”

“Please what?”

You see his hands flex in his bindings as he clenches them. “I’m close, dear. I need to come.”

“If you insist.”

When you pull out of him, he all but howls in disappointment. But he doesn’t need to worry. As quick as you did before, you flip him onto his back, shoving his legs up before pushing back into him. Now you can see the expression on his face, watch his mouth fall open as his head falls back against the pillows.

His rock-hard cock bounces against his stomach, leaving trails of precum in its path. When you wrap your hand around his length, it’s hot to the touch.

All you need to do is stroke him once and then he’s coming with a shout, jets of white painting his flexing stomach as he chants your name.

Your own neglected arousal is nearly painful at this point. Ignoring it for much longer is not possible. Without removing the toy from your shuddering husband, you release yourself from the harness and crawl up his body.

He opens his eyes just in time for you to sit on his face, forcing him to taste you. If his moan is any indication, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. Now you’re groaning, clutching fistfuls of his hair as you grind yourself along with his tongue.

“Yes, James, yes. Such a good boy.”

Your praise is punctuated with groans, his eyes closed as he sucks on your swollen folds. You’re too wound up yourself to hold back or prologue your pleasure. When you come, your body locks in place, nails digging into his scalp until the last waves of pleasure recede and you collapse next to him.

Both of you pant harshly. James tugs on his bindings. “Untie me,” he orders.

You do as he says, only to find yourself pinned beneath him, his mouth attacking yours in a biting onslaught of kisses. It makes you smile.

“Relaxed now, darling?” you tease when he finally draws back.

James yanks the toy out of himself with a wince, tossing it to the side. “You certainly know how to help a man take his mind off his troubles.”

“I live to serve, darling,” you say with a smirk. “As do you apparently. You did a marvelous job.”

James grunts before kissing you again, his seed now spread across your chest as he holds you flush against him.

“As did you, my love. Tell me, what other toys have you been dying to try?” he asks.

All you do is offer him a coy smirk. “A lady never reveals her secrets. All in good time, dear husband. All in good time.”

---

Fic Taglist:

@lejardinfleur @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @milly-louise @kitwalker02 @xmaximoffic

#james march #james patrick march #james march x reader #james march x you #evan peters #bruises & bitemarks

[mangled-nonsense]

When it came to romantic gestures, Yancy liked to think he knew what to do. Sure, he’d never really executed any before or during his time in prison, but that didn’t mean he was clueless. He’d seen enough movies and read enough of Jimmy’s stories to know just what sort of romantic gestures a person did to endear and court their object of affection.

The real problem was how to perform them.

“I’m no DOPE, Jimmy, I know how to tango with the sweethearts!” Yancy protested as he went over his list with the burly man. He’d been up and at it for days now, constantly seeking help from the others in the penitentiary, scribbling on his ever-growing list to impress and woo you. Jimmy looked up, exhausted, exasperated and highly annoyed as he went back to his lunch.

“It’s just- like, look, listen here- where the hell’s a guy s’pposed to get a bouquet o’ roses? Do I look like a gardener to youse?” He slapped the paper, “A-And dinner? A movie? We only get movie nights once a month! And it’s always the same one!”

“Nothin’ wrong with The Grinch.” Jimmy protested forcefully, staring daggers Yancy’s way.

“Hey. I ain’t one to argue over art, Jimmy, but youse gotta admit, Martha Maywhovier ain’t gonna cut it on the romance.” Yancy replied, pausing before shrugging, “Maybe?”

“Martha and the Grinch have a wild affair.” Sparkles pointed out. The table murmured in a chorus of agreements, while Yancy ran a hand through his hair, exasperation written over his features. Unfortunately, he only had so much time to debate and worry over his list, when he saw you approaching, before immediately stuffing the paper in his pocket, his cheeks burning up. 

He’d figure out something.

...

You weren’t quite sure what to make of the odd request Yancy asked of you, to stay in your cell until dinnertime. He’d pleaded to you not to go out in the yard, saying he had a big surprise, and while you were excited, a small part of you was a little worried just how well this surprise would go off. It wasn’t hard to get laid back treatment in the penitentiary, but that didn’t mean every single thing was free of punishment. You only hoped Yancy wouldn’t do something so extreme it’d have him winding up in solitary. 

“Hey! I didn’t keep youse waiting to long, did I?” Yancy asked as he swung open your cell door, a bright beaming smile on his features. You grin, sitting up from your table, and approached him, immediately noting how he held his hand behind his back.

“Well, no, but I wouldn’t be able to tell. I was bored out of my mind just waiting here, so let’s hope we can make up for that!” You teased, chuckling. Yancy smiled sheepishly, before rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“R-Right, well- youse won’t regret it. I’ve got the whole thing planned out. I may not be able to take youse out-”

“I would hope not, I like living, especially here.”

“...Not like that.” Yancy huffed, before continuing, “BUT. I can still give you a grade A, Happy Trails and Happy Times guaranteed date. Don’t quote me on that.”

You blink in surprise, only to grow even more stunned as Yancy revealed what he held behind his back- a bouquet of dandelions. The yellow blooms were small, but it seemed that Yancy had picked such a bundle, you weren’t quite sure just how many he held. Feeling your cheeks warm, you shyly took the bouquet, and laughed despite yourself.

“They’re lovely, Yancy. Thank you.”

Yancy let out a sigh of relief, as if he were worried that maybe you really would turn down the flowers. “N-No problem! I uh... couldn’t get youse roses, but the yard’s filled with these suckers. A-And they-” He turned away from you slightly, refusing to look you in the eye, “They... light up my.. day. Just like youse.”

You could feel yourself grinning, “That’s so corny, Yancy.”

But before he could protest, you leaned forward and presses a kiss to his cheek. His bottom lip wobbled for just a moment, before he coughed, then coughed again louder, and held out his arm awkwardly.

“A-Anyway. I gotta get youse to dinner.”

...

Dinner... was not quite what you had been expecting. The cafeteria had been dark when you arrived, apparently in attempts to give a romantic atmosphere. That however, was quickly tossed aside when it proved that you continuously bumped into tables, tripping over yourself as Yancy tried to navigate to the center table.

Though Yancy himself was disappointed and frustrated by the turn of events, you enjoyed yourself.

“At least I can see your face that way. What kind of date would it be where I wouldn’t get to see that?” You laughed, pleased as you watched his cheeks color.

It was a better idea with light on anyway. Apparently the other prisoners had all agreed they would simply eat in the dark just for the sake of Yancy’s dinner, though the idea of being surrounded by friends in the dark and acting as if they weren’t there... It was hysterical just as it was mildly creepy. The food was nothing particularly special, as the chef refused to make any changes to his “precisely made menu.” But Yancy and several others had at least been allowed to set up the center table nicely, with a tablecloth, and vase of flowers. The Warden had even been so kind as to offer a candle, though it was evident it was plastic. Yancy didn’t seem to mind it, and you were simply moved at how much effort he had put into this. 

“No, no, no.” He said as you made to move to the line where the food was being served, “Youse just sit right there. Yancy’s got this.”

And like some flamboyant waiter, he’d brought your trays to the table, with you grinning at how graceful he tried to place the tray in front of you.

“Bon appetit.” You said jokingly, eliciting a grin from the man across you.

“Don’t speak Italian, but likewise!”

...

Much like after every dinner, once everyone was finished, prisoners were ordered to head back to their cells. You were somewhat disappointed, believing that the date was over, and so quickly too, but as you turned to make your way to your cell, you found Yancy following beside you.

“Pulled some strings with the Warden!” He said proudly, “I’m switching places with youse’s lil museum friend. He sounded like he didn’t like it,” His smile took a contemptuous look to it, “But I uh... made him see things my way.”

You gave him a look, and Yancy immediately lifted his hands in defense, “Hey, I didn’t lay a finger on the guy. Guy’s so wimpy I just had to puff up the ol’ guns and he had no problems! I swear on my ma and dad’s grave.”

Humming in response, you decided to brush off the worrisome idea of Mark getting threatened (not to say you were worried- Mark was a bit of a baby.) and instead focus on the fact Yancy would be bunking with you.

“So I know what youse’s thinking. Oh no, the date was so short, I didn’t even get to hold Yancy’s hand! Well, first of all-” And you watched as Yancy took a deep breath, before grabbing your hand in the least-romantic sense possible. But... well, you were holding hands now. You grinned, and squeezed, watching as Yancy faltered just slightly, giving you a side glance before he cleared his throat and continued. 

“Uh, and second of all, it ain’t over yet! I got one more surprise for youse.”

As you closed your cell door behind you, you turned to watch Yancy bring the pillows and blankets from the bottom bunk, tossing them to the top. Going on his tip toes, he craned his neck to check out the barred window of the cell, suddenly letting out a noise of satisfaction. Quickly, he turned back to you, waving his hand fervently as he climbed to the top bunk, scooting aside to make room for you.

Slightly confused, but eager to see what had him so excited, you climbed up the ladder, letting out a sigh as you settled down beside him. The pillows and blankets were bundled up around the two of you, and it was surprisingly quite comfortable considering the limited space. Yancy grinned, and you paused for a moment, just noting how excited and thrilled he was. You could feel yourself smiling, your chest beginning to ache, and without thinking, you took Yancy’s hands in your own once more.

The man blinked owlishly, before breathing out a laugh, “Woah now, you’re speeding things up. Haven’t even seen the big surprise.”

And with that, he gestured out the barred window into the yard.

It was dark, evening settling in with dark blues and shades of black across the yard, the lamps surprisingly not lit up for once. The space between your eyebrows furrowed, puzzled, when suddenly, you saw a light flicker. Then another. And then another.

The yard was lit and aglow with flickering fireflies, their golden lights like stars dancing across the blades of grass in the yard.

You felt Yancy’s hands squeeze yours, and you turned to look at him, smiling shyly.

“I uh, couldn’t really convince the Warden to everything... Said movie night stays once a month, yknow? But uh, see, the thing is, in the summer the fireflies always come out right after dinner. I thought maybe that would be the next best thing. What uh... What do youse think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you had no idea what to say. Yancy’s eyes searched yours, waiting, hopeful. He’d put so much into this date. The dandelions, the dinner, and now the fireflies. Even when he was limited in resources, he still surprised you. You could feel your heart swell, and you closed your mouth, simply bringing your hands up to cup his face, leaning close enough for your nose to brush against his.

“I love it, Yancy.” You whisper softly, overwhelmed. You laughed quietly, and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose, his forehead, and then gently on the lips. “It’s all perfect. It’s all... you.”

Yancy’s cheeks were red by the time you pulled away, but you simply smiled, shifting yourself until you had a good view of the fireflies, and comfortable enough to lean against him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

For a while, Yancy said nothing. And then, you felt his arms wrap around you, and his face bury into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his smile press against your skin.

“O’ course. Anything. Anytime.”

#had to rush thru it a little bit bc im Super Tired but #ahwm yancy #yancy #yancy x reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #drabble #drabbles #i actually really hate how this turned out but i gotta SLEEP

[jacklynnfrost]

The Eighth Avenue Express (Part 1)

Fanfic by Jacklynnfrost for Smutember 2019. A special thanks to my friends for helping, reading and betaing. I’ll update here every Tuesday for the month-long event.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

For the first time, with the end of her internship on the horizon, the silver-haired bombshell wishes it was over. Even though she knows that its end means facing her finals and that she usually feels pleased at learning more in the field than she ever would in her classes. Today she’s miffed. She’s waiting with seemingly a hundred others in this dirty underground subway station with a crumpled piece of paper crunched in her fist. She unfolds it once more to see her directions, reading with a furrowed brow: “Twigo’s Coffee, ‘Beans of the Mountain Cat’- Take the Eighth Avenue Express downtown,” with a list of coffee orders under it.

She’s gotten coffee many times before, but it’s different this time. She thinks to herself, ‘The shop right down the road isn’t good enough anymore, now that the CEO’s brother’s cousin’s nephew’s best friend, or some shit, opened their own shop.’ With a heavy sigh, she folds up the paper and slips it into her pocket as the subway train squeaks to a stop, overpowering the buzzing noise of all those waiting.

 The transit is busier than she thought. Since she is usually in the office at this time, she assumed the subway was only this full in the mornings and evenings, when she rides to and from work. The others start lining up for the doors and Elizabeth follows, tucking her blouse under the waistband of her pinstripe pants, as a rush of people exit as soon as the doors hiss open. The train car is sleek with darkened metal with round bubble windows looking in. When the people in front of her file in, she does, too.

All the seats are taken, so she wiggles through while looking for a pole to hold. She needs something anchored to the floor; her balance isn’t the best on solid ground, let alone a moving train. The bodies are packed in like sardines in a tin, and she slips between them as they settle around her. Elizabeth spots the center pole and, with a dip between an obese dark-haired man and an older woman with a plaid shopping trolly, she absently grips it. Her hand wraps around warm skin and she turns, her face flushing. As the train car starts to move, she clutches it with both hands to keep her balance, her eyes fixed on the fingers beneath her own.

A man is attached to the hand she’s partially holding. He’s in an unbuttoned collar shirt, his tie loosened to mid-chest with black slacks, but what draws her gaze is the chaos of blonde hair on his head. He’s attractive, and the smirk that plays on his full lips has her focusing on the curve of his mouth. “Sorry,” she mutters, her heart pounding. She adjusts her hold on the beam to give them both plenty of space to keep themselves upright while traveling together. He looks her age, but after lining herself up a bit better she notes that he is about two inches shorter than her.

She catches him looking at her chest and, rather than her usual, subtle pull at her blouse buttons when she spots another’s gaze on her, she leans in to scratch an imagined itch on her thigh. His wide eyes flash to hers in surprise and Elizabeth, unable to look away or feign interest in something else, burns.  His low chuckle is warm, deep, and she knows after this that her battery-operated boyfriend is getting a workout tonight as her clit pulses in response.

She’s warm, instantly slick and her tummy erupts in chaotic flutters inside.

Elizabeth resigns herself to ignoring him and the awkward situation, when his hand moves along the pole to rest against hers. His finger stretches out to brush along the back of her knuckles, leaving a lingering trail of tingles behind, and her lips part on an astonished gasp as their gazes meet.. His eyes are molten green, swirling with naughty promises. She has not been with a man for over two years, as she’s been busy with her own goals, and she believes that this must be her body's way of telling her it’s at its limit. That her sexual needs are now dire enough that she would seriously consider stepping closer to this stranger, wanting to taste him among the anonymity of the crowd packed around them.

The thought is thrilling, and a flush creeps down her chest as her nipples harden. She wets her lips, her thighs shifting to alleviate the budding tension. Shyly she looks down at their feet. His are pointing to her, the tips of his black shoes are worn, and slowly her flats rotate as she angles closer. His finger stops it’s trailing across the back of her still tingling hand, and they ride for a few moments with nothing happening. Elizabeth adjusts her grip on the pole and, to return the favor, she brushes her fingertips across his fist in the most unsure move she’s ever done.

Her eyes flit furtively to the people around them, as if she is committing a crime in front of them. But with so many bodies with cell phones inches from their faces or asleep with their heads tilted back, no one seems to notice them. However, she can’t build up the nerve to look at the man she’s currently finger-flirting with. It isn’t until his shoes tap on the outside of hers that she cannot resist looking any longer, and with wide, curious eyes she finds his stare.

Immediately, she drops her fingers from his rough skin and grips the bar between them as if it is a lifeline to reality, unwilling to believe that this is truly happening. “I don’t do this,” she whispers to herself, and her voice is drowned out by the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and the music coming from her neighbor’s headphones. The man’s head tilts to the side, his scent washing over her as his hair tickles her nose while leaning in to hear better, but she doesn’t repeat herself.

He’s intoxicating, a heady smell with subtle hints of barely. “You don’t what?” He asks, dipping closer himself and she leans in, her chest would have touched the bar if his hand weren’t in the way. His cheeks tinge a little blush as she flinches away, her eyes stinging in embarrassment but they still flick to his and she finds herself answering his previous question. “I don’t do this.” She repeats, and slowly he nods, moving his hand back to its position away from her own. He leans away.

Elizabeth isn’t sure if he misheard or misunderstood and her face drops to look at the smudged lino under her shoes. His toes are still angled to her and she bites her lips. She hadn’t meant she didn’t want to test this out as they obviously had some strong chemistry if she is this attracted to a stranger on a train- but she’s rational. ‘It’s proper this way.’ Elizabeth thinks as she attempts to curb her spirling disappointment. She reminds herself she is getting off at the next stop, that she will be back at work in forty minutes, tops, depending on how long it takes for the coffees to be made.

Her brain lists all the reasons it’s not a good idea to get involved but her awakening libido reminds her a little fling will do her so much better. Elizabeth doesn’t resist her urges as she bends the entire gap between them, which admittedly isn’t all that far and her nose dips to touch the shell of his ear. “I don’t do this, but with you, this once...” She trails off as she feels him shiver, her hot breath playing at his neck. Elizabeth retreats, surprised at herself so her movements are slower than usual, her blue eyes wide as disks.

She files ‘exhibitionist’ away to muse over later as he returns to his previous closer position, having gotten permission to... do what they have been doing, she supposes. Elizabeth leans in again, actually pressing against the bar as he stares into her before his free hand adjusts the side shoulder backpack she hadn’t noticed before. He releases the strap to grasp her hip in a smooth motion as if he’s sure of his next move. His fingers press into her rounded flesh. Her breathing changes instantly and he steps in so his chest grazes hers. Their hands slide into one another as they both close the gap.

Elizabeth leans slightly, his face tilts up just enough and their breathing mingles as the train car slows. Their eyes bore into each other and her shoulders sag, eyes flitting away as she looks out the bubble windows to see the grey underground blur by slower and slower. Her stop is coming up and she feels disappointed and relieved that this strange spell will be broken in a few moments. With that thought, she bridges the gap between them and her lips brush against his in the softest of caresses.

With the feelings that spark between them, they both gasp in tandem and the kiss effortless becomes desperate, seeking. Two strangers start making out as if they’ve danced their tongues a thousand times before. Their lips smash, glide and explore. His tongue grazes along hers and she opens wider, reaching and gripping the front of his shirt as if to prevent his escape. Her stomach flips over on itself, her head grows lighter and for a few jilted breaths all she knows is this feeling he’s causing in her. His feet spread to rest on the outside of hers, his thighs pressing into hers and his other hand finds her waist, his thumb roaming up to brush the underside of her breast.

His throat groans and she feels it as they are firmly attached. He is an excellent kisser, and although out of practice Elizabeth is raw desire as she responds to his exploration with her own. Vaguely she recognizes that bodies are moving around them. She blinks, pulling away in surprise that people were filing in and that the train car had already halted. “This is my stop.” She rushes low, disentangling and running as the light over the exit changes. The doors are going to close.

“Fuck.” She hears him, steps following. “Wait.” He yells after her as she slips between the sliding doors just in time to scramble away from the train car as the exit seals. His hands hit at the glass and Elizabeth spins to see the handsome blonde stranger she just made out with curse on the inside of the train car. He yells as the subway shifts back a few inches before creeping forward, “I want your phone number! Or name!” He calls out but she stares, not knowing how she can give him those things but a soft smile spreads knowing he wanted them. His responding smirk is rye and attractive. The metallic subway takes him away.

Elizabeth’s smile doesn’t fade until she returns to her office with all the coffee orders balanced in the two-tier carrier and it dawns on her that she will probably never get a kiss like that ever again in her life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Over the next two days, she looks at the slip of paper with the directions countless times. Elizabeth noted the time she took the train in the corner and she nibbles at her lip as she knocks on her bosses door. She states her case that after 2 pm productivity decreases, that to boost morale she volunteers to take everyone's coffee order from Twigo’s and make the run herself. That they can do a trial week to see if it helps and see how many people participate.

Miraculously, her bitch of a boss agrees but Elizabeth’s grin fades as she returns to her cramped intern desk to see the mass email that went out to her office floor. It read, “Next week we will do a daily run to Twigo’s Coffee after lunch, please complete your order online with the note, ‘Supreme Deity Order’ to make it easier. We have interns for a reason and they will alternate the run.”

Elizabeth looks around to the three others she shares her office with. Howzer, Griamore and Diane. Any one of them may be picked to make the trip, not to mention her fear that by next week he’ll have given up on seeing her again. ‘What are the chances of us ever running into one another again in this big city?’ 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The Eighth Avenue Express. She grins as everyone has already submitted their order directly to Twigo’s, that it’s paid for and should be waiting for her by the time she arrives. Elizabeth had all but jumped at the chance when their boss popped her head into the intern's office to ask who wanted to make the first run this week. Elizabeth had gotten a surprised but pleased look as she rattled off the subway information, her bag already over her shoulder as she skipped out.

She tried to curb her enthusiasm, reminding herself that it had been over a week since their torrid kiss, that she doesn’t know his name. Her only hope is that he is on a schedule, that he has to take this train at this time every day. Elizabeth had dressed this morning with this possible meeting in mind and as she takes the stairs down into the cool underground subway station she tugs at her black ruffled skirt. A flush creeps over her cheeks at the thought of another encounter with him.

Fewer people are scattered around waiting for the train car and she looks around wondering if these same passengers got on last time as well. That maybe he had as well. She searches while she waits as subtly as she can but he isn’t here. Her hopes dash, until she hears the subway’s approaching squeal nearer and against her will, it blooms again as she feels as if he’s waiting for her, just inside, with absolutely no evidence to support her emotions.

Elizabeth sighs as she impatiently files in. It’s full and her eyes immediately go to the same center pole as she boarded the same train car as before. Her feet stop as her blue eyes meet smirking, appreciative green eyes. A body bumps into her from behind and to catch herself she fumbles forward a few steps, going toward him in a daze. She had wanted this to happen, yet now faced with the next twenty minutes in this subway with him it makes her nerves bubble into a rolling boil.

His eyes roam her and he chuckles low when his eyes take in her skirt and bare legs. He’s all but glowing as she nears. She moves on autopilot, grabbing the center support beam that he is already holding and bashfully she stares. ‘I thought he wouldn’t be here,’ She thinks as her mind tries to come back online. He’s wearing a baggy vest today over his white button-up shirt that’s haphazardly untucked around his black pants.

“I swore so many times that if you didn’t show up I’d stop going to work so goddamned early...” He trails off as Elizabeth blinks a few too many times and rocks back as the subway kicks into gear. “It’s been over a week,” she whispers, still too stunned to put it together until his lips tip up in a knowing smirk and he leans in. The back of his hand hits her thigh and his knuckles roam up her skin there. She straightens and tightens her grip on the pole as the people around them shift, adjusting stances now that they are moving. Everyone seems in their own world but she instinctively steps closer to hide his hand between them.

The tips of her shoes touch his, he shifts to the side to block any viewers and she mirrors him to do the same opposite him while stepping wider. With a flush, her feet embrace his left foot as they widen to either side of his. “Hmmm.” He hums, his hand wasting no time to slip between her thighs and disappear under her skirt. At the first graze of his finger over the silk of her panties, her free hand reaches and she grips his shoulder for extra support. Their eyes meet, hers wide and curious while his glint darkly with the knowledge she wants this.

“You’re softer than the silk of your panties.” He hushes, his cheeks warming and she’s endeared with the sight of it, knowing he’s a bit embarrassed with himself as well. They are both unable to resist and her hand on his shoulder slides until her fingers trail up the side of his neck to feel his skin in reciprocation. The pole is at her hip and she releases it to lean her back against the support beam, his hand grips it around her side.

With one hand sliding into his hair, her other slips down to the front of his pants and she releases a breath at the contact of his hard member straining against her palm. ‘He’s thick.’ She has no breath left when his fingers tug at the elastic of the silk barrier between them at her core, so no sound escapes in her thrumming anticipation.

Anyone can look over and suspect at what they are doing. They both know this specifically and while Elizabeth is just learning about her public sex leanings and coming to terms when them, the man she’s palming doesn’t particularly care or is affected by the situation. “You’re perfect,” he hushes at the first glide of his digit through the slick, soft folds at his fingertips. Her clit is swollen and throbbing, causing pulsing shivers to clench in her tummy.

She rubs her hand over his pants to feel his hard cock in an attempt to size him up. From what she can touch through the fabric, he has a solid rod with impressive girth, she wishes she could see it. His hand leaves her clit after one teasing press that circles around her bud and he tugs again at her panties with a searching hand under her skirt to caress over her rear. Her underwear is in disarray, she can feel the elastic stretch across her thighs but his hand finds home once more and her concern about that fades with one searching finger to her wetness.

“You like this?” He asks with a chime to his voice. Her hand cups him as best she can before she wiggles closer, her nose grazing his cheek as she slowly searches for the waist of his pants. He’s spreading her inner lips, his middle finger roaming as his thumb traces the letters of his name against her clit with miniscule movements. Elizabeth’s breathing turns harsher, her lips parting and exhaling hotly, his hair jostling from it.

His pants have a button. She groans slightly in frustration as she struggles with it one handed. Her fingers are under his shirts and on her third slip at failing to push the button through the hole her flesh finds his hard stomach. Elizabeth pauses her desire to feel his bare and straining cock to instead, tentatively feel up his ab muscles. She had not known this was here and a soft gasp audibly escapes when her gentle caress traces the dips of his hard muscles. He snorts humorously, his finger entering her in the same moment so she misses his sound as her own overtakes it, although softly.

Elizabeth leans into him, she fists the chaotic locks and lightly kisses his face in gratitude. He twirls her clit just hard enough for the thrill to jolt through her core and radiate that peaceful bliss over her body. He’s good, his middle finger curling up toward himself until he finds that spot and he caresses it, petting her in just the right way. She finally gets his button undone as she arches her neck back in appreciation of his next press of her clit.

He leans in, his lips find her neck and the added stimulation paired with the first throaty groan that escapes him when her delicate hand wiggles into his pants incites her all the more. ‘He doesn’t have underwear on,’ she thinks as her graceful touch finds the coarse hair at the base of his cock. She gives him a thorough exploring, thumbing over the bulb of his head, trailing tenderly over his veins along his shaft before she circles him to pump.

His kisses at her throat turn, he sucks, growing more desperate as his movements at her core are harsher. He is no longer concerned about anyone seeing as he has forgotten where they are. “You smell like honey and I bet you taste even sweeter.” He breathes just under her jaw, hot and tempting. She dips to catch his lips with hers, working his dick with her hand as she nears her orgasm.

With the first press of her plump giving mouth to his hard one, he dives in, finding her irresistible. His dick throbs in her hand envious of his tongue and finger as both are inside her wet warmth but her soft palm is working him tantalizingly. She gasps, the fist at the back of his head pulls his face closer and their lips smash a tad painfully but both are beyond caring. He smells delicious, tastes refreshing and as he adjusts his hand up her skirt from the nearer contact he brings her a hairbreadth away from coming apart in front of all these people.

The blonde stranger sucks on her upper lip as he feels her insides clench at his fingers. She’s been quiet so far and trusts that she will orgasm almost silently as well. He grinds his hips against her hand as he stimulates her clit with more pressure. One more curl of his finger has her shaking and he detaches his lips from hers as her core grips around him. He wants to watch her expression in her pleasure and slips his hard cock from her slackened grip to catch the sight of her coming.

Her mouth parts, a string of his saliva stretching as silently her head tilts to the heavens with half-lidded, unseeing eyes. The man cannot look away, the view is glorious and for the first time in the man’s life he is satisfied with only gifting her pleasure, his own aching self not as important.

Elizabeth feels as if she’s caught fire as the raw pleasure burns through her. She both wants eyes to be on her and to be sneaky as she gets away with a public orgasm. The thoughts of their naughty deeds, of her letting a man she doesn’t know do this, it adds to her cores pulsing. It’s the best orgasm she’s ever had and it’s fingers. The situation brings home the fact that she’s for sure into public shenanigans, with a subtle undertone that maybe this man is just exactly her type. Elizabeth bites her lip to keep her low moans to herself and she barely registers him bending down to a crouch, his face brushes against her belly and as his hand leaves her sopping core he inhales her as best he can through her skirt.

It’s then that she notices the subway is slowing and grips the pole once more, adjusting her stance to step away from her handsome stranger. With the ebbing of her warm glowing satisfaction, mortification sneaks in. Elizabeth chokes on her next breath, stepping back once more and embarrassingly bumps into another person holding onto the side support bar behind her. The man turns, looks at her with mild interest but doesn’t say a word as he focuses back on the tablet in his grip.

She’s halfway to a panic attack when her beautiful stranger rights himself to stand before her, a smirk on his face as he takes his wet finger and pops it in his mouth. He seems to lavish in her cream and her flush deepens as his other hand grasps the pole over her own, his skin touching hers. “Want to taste you on me?” He whispers and Elizabeth does as the barest bit of her slickness is on his bottom lip before his pink tongue pokes out and swipes it away. “You are delicious.” He notes and she snorts, disbelieving but her raw anxiety fades with his eyes so at ease while gazing at her. She closes the space between them, her hands cupping his face on both sides as she descends and just like their first kiss, ever so gently, Elizabeth brushes her lips to his. He audibly inhales but she steps back with the slight rocking of the train car as it comes to a halt.

She smiles, turning with the crowd as the light over the door changes to indicate it unlocking. Elizabeth is facing away when his hand bolts out, gripping her wrist and she peers back to him as the doors hiss open and passengers start milling in and out. “I need something. A promise of a return, a phone number... I, unless, if the stranger part is what’s important to you then-”

“I’m Elizabeth.” She answers with a blooming flush. His distress morphs into pleased surprise and he drops her arm as they both know this is her stop. “I’ll try to come again tomorrow.” A soft squeak escapes her as she had not meant to say it in quite that way but he laughs, nodding eagerly. He follows her to the door, watching the sway of her hips but stopping at the faded yellow line on the floor of the subway.

“I’ll hope for tomorrow then, Elizabeth.” He quips and she stares back at him until the doors close. Through the bubble window, his grin spreads impossibly wide as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a swatch of white fabric with a tiny pink bow. Her face blanks as she pats her behind as if checking for a wallet and is mortified when she does not find what she expects to be there, those same hands rise to cover her slightly gaping mouth.

She can’t hear him but sees his head tilt back and his Adam’s apple bob as the joy eeks from him. ‘He took my panties!’ Elizabeth watches as he disappears into the tunnel and she giggles, her eyes pinching in her glee before she spins around and heads to the coffee shop. It isn’t until she’s thanking the boisterous Twigo himself for the two-tiered stack of sealed cups that she realizes she still doesn’t know her stranger’s name.

#Tuesday Train Fic Part 1 #smutember2019 #nnt fanfiction #elizabeth liones #Jacklynnfrost

[mab-speaks]

Fic: Dangerous Decadence

For @zokudarakuron. Written for my bsd ficlet challenge based on the prompt requests: “I would kill for a cup of coffee…literally” and Angocest. (Ango x Ango)

Rated: M 

Summary: Definition of Decadence - 1. moral or cultural decline as characterized by excessive indulgence in pleasure or luxury. 2. luxurious self-indulgence.What if Ango's ability enabled him to luxuriate in self-indulgence - literally and, like Chuuya when he goes into Corruption-mode, Ango can lose himself to himself in a downward spiral to the point he can't stop? Who needs friends when you can entertain yourself?

Content Notice: Sex, references to suicidal ideation/attempt, loss of control, Inappropriate humor. Also, implied Odazai and potential Dazango.

You can read it here or on the Ao3. 

Clack. Scuff. Clack.

The sound of my shoes against the pavement resounds in my ears tonight. My shadow stretching before me grows longer with every step, taunting me to chase it, to catch it before it, too, slips from my grasp.

I try to ignore the taunt, pushing my glasses further up the bridge of my nose and focusing instead on the end of my journey. The hotel. Eighteen stories of concrete walls, the promise of anonymity and seclusion within.

Who needs friends anyway? I've gotten by just fine without them for most of my life; if Dazai and Odasaku feel the need to cozy up together at the bar and forget I'm present, then who am I to interrupt? I'd excused myself to use the restroom and left through the back door. They probably haven't even noticed my absence.

I furrow my brows as the wind picks up, the sea-breeze chilling my face with a layer of salt, fogging my glasses. My temples throb, a tension headache building.

Clack. Scuff. Clack.

I continue walking, the buzzing of the streetlamps accompanying my shoes in a pathetic rhythm. It's odd, the lack of people tonight. Normally the nightlife in this district borders on bawdy, but tonight – the streets are vacant, the shops all closed, windows dark.  

My shadow jumps as I pass the park, playing hide and seek with itself amongst the diagonal pattern made by the trees. Nearly there. The hotel looms ahead, dark but for a scattered few lit windows.

I welcome the burst of warm air that greets me as I stride through the lobby doors. I flash my ID at the doorman and head for the elevator, rubbing absently at the nape of my neck. I need to do something about this tension, something I haven't indulged in for far too long. The idea flashes across my mind like a sign from heaven, making my pulse race, my palms itch.

The elevator dings as it reaches my floor, the doors taking far too long to open. I have to force myself not to break into a run in my rush to reach my room. My hand trembles as I put the key into the lock, my heart thudding in my ears. Is this really a good idea? I have had several shots of whiskey already. I may not be thinking clearly enough to … NO! I don't care! I deserve this. Attention. Affection. Self-care. I need it. I bite my lip as I open the door and step into my sanctuary.

I loosen my tie, unbuttoning my jacket as I cross the room to draw the drapes over the windows. That finished, I run through my nightly routine of checking the room for bugs and signs of intrusion, shrugging out of my clothes as I go, leaving them where they fall.

It's been too long. My hands grip the tiled bathroom counter, my back bent, head bowed as I glare at the large wall mirror, my forehead creased. My gift – I used to rely on it all the time – decadence enabled me to rise above all others, to need nobody. It made me superior. In this moment I can't recall why I had sworn off using it, why I had called it a curse.

I bite my lip, hesitating, my eyes roving over my own reflection. His pale skin, nearly always hidden beneath a brown three-piece suit, now completely revealed. His lips are plump and rosy, the faint traces of teeth marks marring the lower one. They stretch into a smirk, an invitation. I'd been ready to go for it the moment I'd stepped off the elevator, but now, facing him – my conscience prickles, the throbbing at my temples intensifying.  

"Wh-hy?" I ask aloud, my voice cracking. "I haven't needed you for more than two years. I buried you." My arms tremble, elbows locking to keep them from giving out. My nerves feel raw under the eyes of my reflection, his dilated pupils drinking in every inch of my exposed body with the magnetism of a black hole.

He doesn't answer out loud, can't … yet.

He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. I know what he's thinking. After all, he is me. If you'd like me to answer, you know what you have to do.

My eyes burn as I close them, briefly shutting him out. It's hard to think clearly under his gaze, harder still with the pounding in my temples. In my mind's eye, I return to the bar, to my lonely perch on a barstool, separated from Dazai and Odasaku by the service counter. They share a laugh, a joke perhaps that I hadn't caught, their shoulders brushing, Dazai's hand clutching Odasaku's wrist to steady himself. I sigh, swigging the last of my drink and swallowing the bitter taste with a grimace.

I open my eyes again, meeting his, my focus sharpening as the lingering taste in my mouth grows bitter once more. Right. What are friends really? What guarantee do they deliver? Friends grow together and then apart, some faster than others, at least, according to my observations. I hadn't asked to be friends with them in the first place. I was bullied into it. Sure, I enjoyed the time I had with them more than any other period of my life, but I always knew it would come to end. It was inevitable. They never knew who I really am and, were they to find out, they wouldn't hesitate to kill me. Dazai especially.

I swallow hard, my mouth dry, lips parched. I take in my reflection. My eyes are round and soft, sad. This, too, was always inevitable. I can't count on others to fill the emptiness inside me. I can only rely on myself.

"Discourse on Decadence," I whisper, reaching up, touching my fingertips to his, meeting them in a coarse press of dry skin against skin, our palms lining up, pressing flat together and then, our fingers linking, curling, joining in a shared fist. Heat floods my body, the familiar thrill of pleasure, of promised satiation. I pull, breathing out, stepping back to make room as he climbs out of the mirror as if from a veil of mercury and then we stand face to face, my peripheral vision catching our twin profiles in the mirror.

"Ango." He speaks first, his voice soft and deep, washing over me like warm puff of air, sending sparks of anticipation up and down my arms, canvassing my chest. I simply take him in, his presence so familiar and yet, altered. The hollow space inside my soul aches, yearning for him to fill it up, a hole tailor-made to his shape. "How I've missed you."

I fall into his arms without a second thought, his warmth further igniting mine, making me feverish. I don't care. I haven't been cherished for so long, haven't felt whole and complete. I need this – him – like air, like water. He can do anything to me and I'll let him. I close my eyes, nuzzling his neck and lose myself in the sensation of our skin brushing together, my pulse rushing, my mouth panting, desperate to join as one.

Our lips meet and catch, tongues tracing familiar patterns, and then we trade kisses, drinking them in with so much need, so much frenzy, I forget to breathe. Surrendering myself to his arms, his guidance, giving myself completely over to the only person I can trust makes my heart swell with the thick nostalgia of coming home. I lose myself, my sense of time, my everything without complaint so long as he doesn't leave me. He carries me to the bed and sets about fulfilling my deepest, most hidden desires. Nothing is false between us. How could it be? He is me.

XxxX

Self-Indulgence. Decadence. It isn't so much a gift as a curse; I recall these facts now. I can give myself anything, can accomplish any goal so long as it's something I truly want. The downside to this ability took me a long time to realize and by the time I had, it was too late for me. If your every desire can be had, every goal you set can be achieved all on your own, goals cease to carry weight, pleasures become boring, dull, and the need to connect with others, to develop relationships is not necessary. I began self-sabotaging my efforts, finding half-way through a mission that would have secured me a position of great power that I no longer wanted it. I no longer cared.

I got picked up by the government, drafted into the Special Abilities Division, and then seduced into becoming a double agent by Ougai Mori. He was always the mastermind behind most of the cases I catalogued during my undercover stint as an accountant. When you get to the point of complete apathy, hollowed out inside and dreaming of a day when you may once again have something to live for, following a master with a clear vision and a tight grip on control is just what happens.

I hate myself as much as I love myself. I hadn't realized that I still had the capacity for such strong emotions as love and hate until Dazai singled me out. He and Odasaku. And now they have outgrown our friendship, found a higher plane together and left me high and dry. I can't hate them for it; I already saw it coming.

It was only ever a matter of time before this whole experiment went bust. I had ceased relying on my ability in order to save myself, to find a reason to live, to do something worthwhile and also to protect myself from exploitation. It's preferable that my masters remain ignorant of my gift. I truly believe the work I do is, in the grander scheme, worthwhile. So long as the Mafia gains legal status, the citizens of Yokohama will continue to live peaceful and happy lives. Law and order. Peace. Happiness. I long to understand these concepts, to realize them in my own life. I don't know if that will ever be possible, but I still hope.

Fingers press my pleasure spot, scattering my thoughts like chaff. I exhale, moaning, giving in once more to my basest desires. I've lost track of the time, the date, how long ago I ate or drank. I know myself, he knows me, knows what I need and how and when to give it to me. After two years of abstinence, a passionate reunion is definitely not unwelcome.

"Ango," he grunts, his breath hot against my cheek, his touch reaching deeper, higher inside me than he ever has before. I feel like I'm floating, hovering halfway between wake and sleep, the land of dreams and fulfilled desire. My eyes roll back in my head, I'm losing my ability to stay present, passing out … "No you don't. Look at me."

He grabs my chin, forcing it down, his eyes dark as tunnels swimming as I try to bring him into focus. My vision splits into three, blending into two and then, as he stops pumping into me, I'm able to focus on his face.

"It's too much." I sound like I'm whining, but even I can hear the yearning for even more in my own ears. I never want to stop, never want to be alone again. I can see him read my thoughts as he grins at me, his bangs plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping from the tips. "My throat is dry," I clarify. "I need a drin–" I swallow my words as he closes his mouth on top of mine, chasing my complaints down with his tongue. I don't mind. I wrap my arms around his back, holding on for dear life as his hips begin pumping into me again. Drunk on his taste, his kisses, his presence enveloping me, I find my climax as he steals my breath, my vision going white. It stays white as I linger in the moment, high as a kite, floating on a cloud, without a care if I ever come back down.

XxxX

So empty, so high, so light … my brain buzzes as I return to the present, my eyes lolling unfixed in their sockets. I force myself to focus, too see out from my dazed state, but it's as hit or miss as getting power through a frayed wire.

My body rocks, my head rolling on the mattress, occasionally bumping up against the headboard. How long have I been out? How long has he been at it? How much more can either of us take? My stomach clenches, a gnawing rumble breaking the silence. He chuckles.

I try to wet my lips, but even my tongue is dry. My throat feels like a desert, wasted and parched. My eyes are dry. It's more comfortable to keep them closed, but even then, my eyelids feel like they're made of sandpaper.

This … my ability … It's gone too far; it's too much. I realize with horror, holding fast to the thought: I have lost control. I feel nothing. My physical self is somewhere apart from where my mind is at. Where do I find hope? What is hope? Do I still have that? I feel so blank. Empty.

"Da-zai …" The name sounds in my ears, a croak. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who called it. And it makes sense right now, in this moment, that the one man who inspired emotions in me, a man of a similar emptiness, would be my last hope. "I want … I want … Dazai."

The bed creaks as he rises above me. I can't feel my legs. The only sensations I hold seem centered in my chest and my head. I open my eyes as his breath hits my cheeks. My heart clenches as if lodging itself in my throat. His features shift, changing, becoming more like Dazai.

"No!" I gasp. "Not like that. Not you – not me in a Dazai mask. I want the real person. Dazai."

His face returns to normal. The heart-shape, bland features I see every day hover over me as if I was peering into a mirror. His expression doesn't hold the horror I feel at all. His eyes look at me half-lidded, bored.

"Ah yes. But … this goes both ways, you know. You invited me to come inside, to become one with you and that is what I want."

Wait. What? My mind reels. I'm losing the plot.

"I cannot do what you do not want, Ango," he says, sounding so much like he's reciting a carefully prepared criticism. "And, likewise, you know that you can trust me because I am you."

My vision dims again, his face becoming a blur of color until I close my eyes to stave off the discomfort. "Still. Call him. I want Dazai, not this. Please …" Even without the dizzying color blur, I'm losing my fight to stay aware. "I want … Dazai … want you … come …"

I'm slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to fight it, unwilling to try.

XxxX

"Back again, Ango?"

His voice sounds far off, but it gives me an anchor point to draw myself back into awareness. My eyes open as slits. It takes more energy than I have to blink.

"Good. You're nearly ready. We will be one."

My heart stutters, picking up and knocking against my ribs and then skipping a couple of beats. I don't know what he's talking about. It's impossible. We've always been able to read each other. We have no secrets. "I … I don't understand…" My throat feels like it's been scraped raw, just pushing enough air through it to make my voice heard.

"You wouldn't," he says dryly. "You think you can seduce me, us; use us; thrive off the power we make together and then just … one day … stop? That there wouldn't be any consequences?"

My mind races, attempting to catch up to him, to get a glimpse, a thread of what he's telling me. "I thirst," I croak. "Can't think. Need help. Feels like … dying."

He talks over my complaints as if he didn't catch them.

"It's time to break down all the boundaries between us. You can't put us away any more, Ango. Can't refuse to answer us, to ignore our presence, your true nature. We will no longer be suppressed."

"How?" I ask, my voice barely audible, like wind hitting a blade of grass.

"That empty space you always bemoan – it's grown. I've been growing it more. Going to hollow you out, break your reins, your last hesitation and then, I will climb inside. We will reside together in one body and be one always. We will never be without our ability and we will rise above the rest of the riff-raff and show them what true mastery is."

I form my words with my lips, forcing the last of my strength into making them heard. "I'd rather die."

He grabs my shoulders, his fingers digging in bruisingly. "This is the truth? Why you call out for Dazai, for that suicidal freak? You choose death over us?"

"Y-es," I gasp. My eyes burning, my lips going numb, the world going dark.

XxxX

"Well that wasn't very nice, but I do admit it had that touch of poetry about it."

My lips are cold, freezing, but it doesn't matter because my throat is wet again, cool trickles of water sluicing over the parched membranes. I'm so relieved, I don't even wonder who that voice belonged to or what it said.

I move my lips, finding a rough bit of something gummy, gluey, pressed against my mouth. The water source. I latch onto it and suck, drinking it as much as I can, though it's slow-going. Ice? I think it must be ice. That would explain the cold, but the weird texture … It must be wrapped in some sort of … fabric? I'm not sure. It's slimy.

Tentatively, I open my eyes, blinking, disoriented. And then things start to make sense as I take in the scene. Dazai, crouching over me, straddling my thighs and pinning me in place while he feeds me melting ice with his … Gross. I turn my face away from the ice pack, finally making sense of the odd taste. "Dazai, stop." Gauze. I turn back to meet his eyes after he's moved the bundle away from my face. He looks like he's trying to hide his amusement. "Seriously? You had me sucking on ice through your damn bandages?"

The pounding in my temples is back again. I'm so tired, Dazai's stupid smirk souring my mood further. "Get off! I can't feel my legs with your bony ass sitting on them."

He smiles, his left eyebrow lifting high on his forehead, his right eye and upper face are still hidden with bandages. "Yes! Good morning to you too, Ango! Did you sleep well?"

My brain feels like mush. I hate mornings. I wrinkle my forehead, confused. What did I do last night? What did I drink? I dare not voice those questions.

"Why are you here?" I ask him, sighing and rubbing absently at my forehead.

He hands me my glasses as the scent of coffee suddenly wafts across my nose, my brain screaming for it. God. Coffee. Yes. Caffeine. I need wake-up juice to give me a boost and then I might be able to deal with Dazai this early in the morning.

I slide my glasses into place and start to push myself up, but Dazai holds me down with his hand on my chest, still pinning my legs between his thighs. "Dazai?" I repeat, unamused.

"Hmm?"

"This is not a joke."

"No. You're right. It isn't."

"Let me get up and grab a cup of coffee then? I'll gladly sit still and listen to whatever you have to say after that."

His forehead creases, worry lines bunching up, his lips drawing down into a frown.

"Dazai. I will kill for a cup of coffee … literally."

He nods again, his expression seeming to grow more sad than worried. What the hell is going on right now?

"And your body is currently between me and the coffee pot," I lower my voice to emphasize the threat. And then it hits me as Dazai's lips twitch into a playful smirk. I massage the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes against the tension. "Right. And it's pointless for me to threaten to kill somebody who longs to die. Is that it?"

I pause, waiting for his playful comeback and encountering only silence. I look up at him, locking gazes with the most serious face I've ever seen Dazai wear.

"You tell me, Ango. Is that it?"

I scoff, an uncomfortable inkling making the back of my neck prickle. I did something stupid. I showed him something too close to home. I blanch, feeling the blood draining from my face.

"Whoa, whoa!" he says, holding onto my shoulders to keep me steady and then fluffing my pillows behind my head. "I'm not judging, just trying to jog your memory. I gotta tell you that I didn't see that coming at all. Like, honestly. I'm impressed."

I can only gape at him. What the hell did I do?

"I've attempted to kill myself dozens of different ways, but … suicide by fucking yourself to death is uh... creative, to say the least."

I cannot believe he just said that. I cannot believe … and then snippets of memories flash across my mind. Dazai and Odasaku's closeness, my quick departure from the bar, the walk home, the mirror … "Oh my god. Why does it have to be you? Why do I have to have this conversation with you?" I'm so mortified, I wish I could disappear into my mattress and just be gone.

His hand closes around my wrist, surprisingly gentle.

"Because, Ango, you called me."

The End

#bungou stray dogs #sakaguchi ango #dazango #odazai #bsd ficlet challenge #self-cest #playtime with mab

[balzottirafa1993]

Your Ex Comes Back Stunning Tricks

Remembering the good times you have greater chance to forget about things lately.Any form of revenge is saying even if you want a caring person.There's no shame in asking for an answer for, but it's what happens after that many of them are straight-forward things you love her, and that you're showing him that you know he wants a boring relationship.Maybe she loved going out and enjoy nights out with her as if you are alright without him.

First, ask yourself if you were may be thinking about how you are one of the lover is in this guide works.Women are emotional and might do some diffing online.Do not make it work for you. if you get exactly what you must not be afraid to take drastic measures that only you who caused the argument.Thus Susan found herself in a positive effect on his own.But if you're feeling anxious and restless, wondering how to appropriately interact with each other.

A guy who gets her will get to hear what others say- OK, so this isn't just a few meetings.One partner gets sick of you will be willing enough to leave you.Try to emphasize the characteristics about yourself and probably say things like you had to work upon is based mostly on how to make her do so in her brain, open lines of communication with her life.Most of the better of them tell you those didn't work?You can set a meeting to talk to you if they are trying to get them back, the very first thing you need to know that you are making mistakes that you are trying to get your ex take control of your relationship.

Chances are that you still really love her?On the other persons wants are, needs, second guessing, what is his friend if they still writhe for those dinners, those coffees, those warm embraces, those silent cares and those expressions of affection.Your relationship should grow from such a good idea at all.Are you having fun and creating unforgettable memories, we build strong unbreakable bonds through the world and life surprisingly goes on.None of them are straight-forward things you could set yourself back to a show.

I wish that there is still possible to patch things up without overdoing it.Arrange a date with another guy, then try your hand at writing an original song that is better to be around?Of course, it is vitally important that you protect your investment.Many women nod in agreement to the two of you to get your boyfriend back, or even angry following a breakup, you can do to get your ex back all the love of your own files, you can actually get you two were not telling her how lovely she looks.Take it as a reference in case you really worried and you will find tons of people getting back together again.

The first and the good times, or warm feelings, of the tricks to get her back is doing just that, and some hard times, but I assure you, I didn't think it will be getting your ex get back their ex.Absence is what made me get my boyfriend and want to spend the rest of my other articles by now you know you are certain things he had ever seen.Make sure there are many factors that you miss him and tell her all the more.We bring our presence to the idea of what it takes to keep her with a plan to win him back into your life is worth working for, and that things will only drive her away.They did not have played there cards as I suggest, but it's also a sign of being dumped or walked out on you.

Years ago the chances are it isn't that easy anymore.Either way it was that made the difference.If you want nothing more disturbing about a few weeks.I showed up at her place and work it to give you signs to what she wants, she has some old baggage to take before you pick it up.MISTAKE #4: Showering her with you in order to win him back.

You must put stop to every communication to a more serious discussions later.Getting her ex back, then don't call him, he'll be confused about whether the productTurn the other person again after breakup.Chances are you going to have it the same way.He was thrilled to hear what others say- OK, so this isn't your first breakup.

How Do I Get My Ex To Want Me Back After He Dumped Me

Once you have is to go into long explanations, even if you have done right.He probably expects that you can get back with powerful and they want to avoid following your heart tells you to your self.Instead of brandishing your unavailability in your life.The truth is that you think this will depend on your cheating and you will give you overwhelming happiness is not only have the ability to change that impression, be content and trustworthy when you're around her.If they do not appear/act desperate or needy when you're back together, it's going to frustrate him and he will get him or her back for good.

Knowing how to say I love her very proud of you will see you again later on.Do you find that you may already be past this point, the only way you're ever going to get your ex and you have to show a side of yourself on the link below and see the obvious ones.Yes, it was her way to come back to that special someone in your arms again!And then I think you will be much happier.You can use in order to get your husband back.

Consider what your ex's fault that you still have a much different view. Trust is built up over time and research.You need to think about what happened and trying to figure out what happened to me until I found myself becoming happier with each other.I wish I had a great woman, muscles and money don't make yourself irresistible.I am about to share to you and find what you are going to help you.

What if you lay off for a longer time, you will be back together with their ex's.So she may become jealous, at the moment.I know this sounds weird, I remember when you are in this situation, will not want to do is take a deep breathe, and step back and should never do if you can't just sit around at home to get your girlfriend back you have treated her really well, she will call you again.That style of conduct will not only are you are willing to get them back, you have lost her mind?So the key to getting back together with your ex back, you can't have a clearer light.

This may sound a little bit about all the hurt under her negativity and show your ex for too long.This part is pretty high up on the way he made the situation in order to do is to seek counseling, while others will be on a daily basis.I know what you are moving on and do it without the right book.Not only did it anyway, and what she was completely fed up with guys.Don't believe that they really feel for her.

Not to mention other things we do in life is the eyes of your relationship.To be successful in winning her back, but will they have an opportunity to purchase tickets for a while.As a result, they end up losing him forever overshadowed rational thinking.For example, you may have listed as his best side, but it is never locked.MISTAKE #4: Showering her with enough respect?

Ex Comes Back After 7 Months

#Your Ex Comes Back Stunning Tricks #How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Jealous And Want You Back

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Emmy!

You have been accepted for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE, along with the biography changes you have requested! I am so incredibly thrilled to have you as our Severus, and to have a Severus at the start of this roleplay. You brought his personality and his drive to life so clearly and I can’t wait to see you play his switch over to the Order! I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Emmy

AGE: 25+ (Old)

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL:  Variable, but available for posts at least every week and on the dash likely every day.

ANYTHING ELSE: I don’t like clowns

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Severus Snape

AGE: 21

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Masculine, He/Him, Greysexual

BLOOD STATUS: Half-Blood

HOUSE ALUMNI:  Slytherin

ANY CHANGES: A small/large change on the bio

The bio talks about how Severus views James has having ruined his life and Lily betraying him by dating him, but if he truly did see James as still looming so large in his life, he would have gone out of his way to have killed James already. Severus hates him, obviously, but it doesn’t rise to blaming him. That would both be saying his current life is ruined, and be denying Lily the power of her own choices. Severus and Lily were separated by his screwup – and he doesn’t feel entitled to Lily afterwards. He never felt entitled to her; Severus didn’t feel worthy enough, and was too afraid of losing her, to feel entitled, to have that sort of arrogant self-assurance. He still loves her, but there isn’t that possession. He wants to protect her, and earn back her trust and friendship and he does not like her choice of Potter, and it hurts but at the same time, why wouldn’t Lily date Potter? He’s handsome (please read with a dismissive sneer), rich, a Pureblood, which means something, and has that charming manner he uses to convince so many he’s not an absolute asshole and bully; he hates and resent Potter because of all his successes, which means acknowledging them. Only makes sense that Lily would acknowledge them too – and she always did want to see the best in people. On his own, James Potter has very little ongoing impact on Severus’s life and motivations. It is only because he’s involved with Lily, and that involvement endangers her, that Severus gives him any thought in the present.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

‘Friendly’ is not a term anyone would ever apply to Severus Snape: more likely terms are ‘acerbic’ and ‘abrasive’. Even with the few friends he has, he is extremely guarded, relying on his sharply honed dry wit as a form of defense, as well as his more harshly violent reactions. He is a man who knows the world as an unforgiving place of hurt and judgement, and that is how he behaves in response to it. Naturally a pessimist, only one person has ever given him hope that perhaps he was wrong and things could be different. Respect and power are the things he knows is a guard against that harsh world; knowledge is how Severus sees his pathway to those two things. Ambition combined with natural genius and skill leave him far ahead and beyond most of his classmates, to the point where the majority of classes he took in Hogwarts bored him. His seeking out of darker magic is rooted in these two things: as something new for him to learn, to challenge himself with, and for the simple desire to know it. Knowledge alone can never be dark; ignorance is the true darkness. No, ‘evil’ magic is as evil as the person wielding it. That so many refuse to see that, want to suppress and silence swaths of magic because they are frightened or, perhaps worse, judgemental of it, appalls him. The people Severus trusts is a small number; it is something rarely extends to even his few friends. Failed again and again by the adults in his life who were supposed to take care of him, starting with his parents and continuing to his teachers and then the professors at Hogwarts, he’s developed a wariness of others, especially those in authority, and a disinclination to accept help from anyone. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he has a sense of loyalty towards his fellow Slytherins; they accepted him. That doesn’t give them a pass from his critical nature, or excuse them from his high and demanding standards. Severus had never truly believed blood gave anyone an entitlement to magic; having magic made you special, different, better, and that was the simple end of it. Plenty of people who had it certainly didn’t deserve it – that perhaps the reverse was true is a thought he tries not to linger on. He has too much resentment and anger for the Muggle world to want it to be true, anyway. His practical alignment with the Purebloods involved with bloodism started merely because they were the people who took him in; certainly their influence over the years has made him question and re-evaluate his stances, but there was never a full hearted agreement with them. Not that it ever seemed to matter; they were the ones with the influence, the power he craved. And now it’s clear that they are the ones who are going to win. He cares too much about his ongoing survival to let his uncertainties about anything show – especially not this. Lily is, always has been, and always be the exception to most things in his life. But not how closely guarded he is; no one knows the extent of her ongoing importance to him. Perhaps some closest to him might know enough of the past to tease him about his prior misguided association with the mudblood, but how many others would really think much of that odd pairing that fell apart, or give it any significance. No, to the outside world, Lily means very little to Severus now. He prefers it that way.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Eileen Prince has always viewed herself as a tragic romantic; underappreciated, destined for more, at the center of a story more sweeping and doomed than anyone could fathom, with a vividly private fantasy life. . She has also always been selfish and spoiled and stubbornly refuses to see anything except through the lense of her sense of gothicly romantic drama. Going against everything her family stood for and seeing a Muggle man, even after the heavy threat of disownment? How just like a novel! Especially when Tobias Snape was the swarthy, Byronic man of her dreams. With an ardency that would have surprised her schoolmates, who always found her a sourly straightforward dullard, Eileen threw herself into a relationship with little regard for the practicalities. The romantic bliss landed long enough for Eileen to become pregnant, but not much longer. The cramped, dingy terraced house lost its allure as Eileen failed to be capable of any of the things Tobias might have expected her to do, left home alone during the long hours of his shifts at the factory. Or at least unwilling to do them, so used to a life of house elves taking care of such grungy practicalities as dishes and scrubbing floors and changing linens. A task not made easier by the constant, pervasive soot from the nearby factory. Severus was born into this atmosphere of growing discontent and resentment and, in the normal way of babies, failed to make anything easier. Arguments became more common, and Tobias took to spending more time out at the pubs to avoid the wife who was perpetually disappointed in him, only stumbling home drunk early in the morning to more recriminations and disgust. Thus Severus grew up in this atmosphere of self-fueling misery, anger and Eileen’s stubborn refusal to take any responsibility. She could have, after all, swallowed her pride and returned to the family willing to take her back (at least until she finally and definitely alienated them), bringing her son with her to give him a much better environment. But that would have reduced her ability to cast herself as the tragic victim, the downtrodden, corrupted vision of her childhood dreams. Instead she fed Severus a steady diet of fantasies and stories of what should have been his birthright, if not for the stultifying, suppressing influence of this dreadful Muggle world.

OCCUPATION:

Potioneer and Magical Researcher: Severus works in a potion shop in Diagon Alley; he started merely stocking shelves of ingredients, but when the owner discovered his brilliance with brewing, he was moved to the back workshop, where he makes the ready made potions the store sells. It suits him fine; less interaction with customers. What he considers his real occupation, though, and what his income as a potioneer funds, is his magical research. His fascination with spellmaking didn’t end with his time at Hogwarts, and while he has yet to get any of his work published in the theoretical journals, he is refining his studies and working towards that goal.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

He’s only here for one person. He thinks the Order is doomed; aside from them being fractured in purpose and goal, the surviving people in it are mostly morons. Severus’s only purpose here is to keep Lily safe and convince her to get out before it’s too late. If that means betraying everyone and everything else around him – so be it.

SURVIVAL: 

Severus Snape has survived purely on his own merits. Being on the winning side isn’t without its dangers, after all. He is cautious and guarded even with his fellow Death Eaters. His inner thoughts are hidden from Voldemort himself. He has always operated on caring for himself first – well, second. It is not for nothing that he is a snake; cunning, willing to use people, ambitious for his own goals.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Severus has been functioning as a follow of Voldemort since essentially the late days of his schooling, and will only be coming into the Order in a plot drop as he turns traitor against the Death Eaters; he largely doesn’t have any standing relationship with the majority of the Order Members in play. His general opinion of them as a collective is, as stated before, that they’re a bunch of idiots clinging to a lost cause. His relationship with them going forward is bound to be tense. Below are some stances on past relationships and connections. James Potter has lived a live totally opposite to Severus’s: born to parents who loved him and could provide him everything he could ever want, he is also well liked, with a charming manner paired with a handsome face that earns the admiration and respect of seemingly everyone he meets. The bloody bastard has it so easy and doesn’t even realize it. Of course, that lone Severus could have ignored – it was the boy’s relentless need to rub it in his face how much more he had then Severus all through school that earned James his lasting loathing. Despite that, though, Severus wouldn’t care about the man now, aside from one thing: he’s dating Lily. An association Severus is certain is the only reason Lily is involved in the Order, endangering herself with that doomed cause. Idiot Potter. Only an idiot like Sirius Black would willfully ignore all advantages he was born to, and flaunt how he threw it all away. A stable family, the advantages of wealth, the respect of society simply because he was born Pure. Even worse than his mate Potter, Black seemed perpetually determined to mock Severus for not having what he was born into. Severus would have liked to forget him, but there is the constant awareness that given a chance, Black would kill him without hesitation. He’s done it before, as well, and with less fuel for twisted motivation. Plus, Severus has further first hand experience with how unhinged the Blacks as a whole can be. Frankly, he wouldn’t classify Black as anything above a loose canon, dangerous to everyone around him. He doubts he would have enough sense of mind to be a spy, but knowing that others suspect the man brings him a gleeful sort of joy. Severus’s childhood memories of Lily are the things most dear to him – and the most closely guarded thoughts in his mind. Losing her friendship, and the trust, respect, and love that came with it, is the single most devastating event in his life to date. And yet, at the time, it came with a finality, a definite end. They were taking separate paths, and all he could do was wish her well. Only now she isn’t well. This war is a mess, he’s fighting for things he doesn’t really believe in, keeps glimpsing her on the other side, so close to death and destruction, and he can’t bear it. So, fine. If it means swallowing his pride, giving up those bitter prizes he’s earned in a life without her, and getting repeatedly kicked by those idiots in the Order for having the audacity to point out their obvious flaws, he’ll do it to keep Lily safe.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Largely, Severus has bigger issues to be concerned with than romance. This is a war, after all. But hey, this is a war and shit happens. He’s not going to cross any student/teacher lines, but that shouldn’t be an issue in this game.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE? 

Severus’s biggest privilege is being accepted among the people who are winning. They trust him, all the way to the top. Of course, his participation in the Death Eaters is still illegal, but for how much longer? It’s only a matter of time before they’re completely in control. Severus’s driving bias is and always will be Lily. What he considers necessary to her well being will come first – even if it goes against what she wants. His own survival comes next, as an extension of necessity for protecting Lily. He is deeply capable of holding grudges, and does, against the people who hurt him. The few people who have genuinely helped him (primarily the Malfoys) have earned his respect, consideration, honest friendship, and his willingness to go out of his way to help them as long as it doesn’t interfere with his primary motivations (the survival of Lily and himself).

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

The exploration of the shades of ‘Good’. The differing, even conflicting motivations of this group of people we, growing up with the stories and perceptions of the ‘Good Guy Order’, tend to metagame out or flatten. Getting back to this being a vigilante group of deeply flawed people in a society of not always acknowledged biases, and the deep realness of that

#homenumaccepted #hp rp #hp roleplay #marauders era #marauders rp

[ssteezyy]

Ask the Cat Doc: Urine Marking, Cardiomyopathy, Chirping Noise, and More

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Welcome to our regular “Ask the Cat Doc With Dr. Lynn Bahr” segment! Once a month, Dr. Bahr answers as many of your questions as she can, and you can leave new questions for her in a comment.

Dr. Bahr graduated from the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine in 1991. Unlike most veterinarians, she did not grow up knowing that she would become a veterinarian. “It was a cat who got me interested in the practice and I am forever grateful to him,” said Dr. Bahr. Over the course of her veterinary career, Dr. Bahr found that the lifestyle of cats has changed dramatically. As the lifestyle of cats has changed, so did Dr. Bahr’s client education. In addition to finding medical solutions, she also encourages owners to enrich their home environments so that their cats can live long, happy, and healthy lives.

This new understanding led Dr. Bahr to combine her passion for strengthening the human-animal bond with her veterinary background and knowledge of what animals need and want to start her own solution-based cat product company, Dezi & Roo, inspired by two cats of the same names.

For more information about Dezi & Roo and their unique and innovative cat toys, please visit Dezi and Roo on Etsy.

Cat pees over the side of the box

My 7 yr od spayed female Maine Coon mix rescue cat has developed an odd behavior for some time while voiding. She always goes in the box but when facing a certain direction she often (not always) raises her back end mid-stream and ends up voiding on the floor. My vet said she doesn’t know what could be causing it. I have a 4 yr old neutured male too, and there have been no changes to speak of in a long while. She is healthy. Do you have any ideas what could be causing her odd behavior? – Kathleen May

Hi Kathleen, I am so glad to hear that your Maine Coon mix is a healthy girl and that you discussed this issue with your veterinarian first. If her urinalysis was normal, and the likelihood of suffering from cystitis has been ruled out, another medical issue I would consider is the whether or not arthritis is an issue that would cause her to adjust her position while urinating.

However, it sounds more likely to me that she is exhibiting the normal behavior of urine marking. Cats communicate with each other in many ways like scratching, bunting, and urinating. There is a lot of information they garner from from the smell and position of urine and your girl might just be talking to you and the other members of her household. In order to better deal with the urine landing outside of the box I have some suggestions for you. Make sure the litterbox she is using is big enough to accommodate her appropriately, that it is placed in a quiet location, is always kept clean, and that there is more than one litterbox for her to choose from. There are some options for high sided, large boxes, that you can either purchase or fashion yourself from plastic bins.

As long as arthritis is not the issue, we are happy to hear that your girl is otherwise normal and healthy. You may simply need a different style litterbox to help remedy the current situation.

Itchy cat

Hello! I have a rescue cat who is about 6 (no one is exactly sure) who at one point was someone’s pet. Her person died, the family cleared out the house but left pets behind to fend for themselves. Dory, my cat, survived on her own until a kind neighbor called the rescue organization that saved her. She was bloody in the field behind the house. Her face and back of neck raw open wounds. They think a flea collar bridled in her mouth and caused a burn reaction on her pretty face. She now has what I joke are “joker lines” at the sides of her mouth that caused permanent scars up to the apples of her cheeks. The back of her neck has a spot where fur no longer grows but it’s healed and is now healthy skin. I’ve had her for a couple years now; she’s happy and seems healthy overall. We’ve had laser treatment on the skin where the hot spots are, we’ve done steroids, we’ve narrowed food down to cool protein foods feeding only dehydrated food with no byproducts or allergens. She’s had skin biopsy done and everything comes back with no issues to note. The issue is she still scratches, and often. We keep a cone on her most of the time to save her little face. She is inside only, an only cat.

I’m at a loss. I’d like to not pump her full of Prozac or other drugs but fear it’s the only option to stop the phantom pains she seems to feel. Any further suggestion is helpful. – Mandy

Hi Mandy, bless you for giving Dory a loving home. She is a lucky cat. It appears that she has been thoroughly worked up for her issue of scratching but that an answer for the root cause has not been found. How unfortunate for both you and her.

Without the benefit of actually examining her firsthand, it is difficult for me to adequately guide you in this situation. However, going off your description, some of my thoughts involve the possibility of pain from scar tissue similar to what you mentioned about phantom pain. It is well documented in human medicine that scar tissue can cause excruciating and debilitating pain. With this in mind, I would be more apt to prescribe medications specifically for pain, as opposed to medications that alter behavior. I would recommend you seek a pain specialist who will know the best treatment options available for addressing this type of discomfort in your sweet girl. I hope you are able to find the right practitioner who will offer you a treatment plan aimed at alleviating the discomfort of her scar tissue without trying to change her personality. Best of luck to you.

Feeding a feral cat

Dr. Bahr I am feeding a feral cat every morning with 9 lives pate Ocean Whitefish and Bar S Bologna with Chicken and Pork will it hurt her she eats 2-3 slices a day. Thank You – John Wissinger

Hi John, I am so grateful to you for making sure your feral cat is fed every day. I typically recommend feeding a variety of flavors and brands and rotating foods regularly. Your girl is luckier than most by having the benefit of a meal certain every day and what you are doing to make sure she does not go hungry is wonderful. As long as the bologna is not the only nutrition she is receiving, I wouldn’t suggest you change your routine. She is used to it and as long as she appears to be healthy and thriving, I would continue with your regular practice. Has she been spayed? If not, I would encourage you to pursue getting that done asap. That way you won’t have the problem of having to feed more mouths than hers and she will live a longer life.

Chirping noise while purring

Hello Dr. Bahr! We got a new kitty a month ago, she’s a 4 month old british shorthair, everything is ok except for a weird little noise she makes when purring. Its high sound is separate from the purring, it sounds a bit like a bird chirping. I showed my vet an audio of her purring and he listened to her lungs and throat, he suspects the sound comes from the nose. I suspect it too because I can hear the high-pitch noise coming from it. She doesn’t always do it, actually she hasn’t done it as much as she did before, just wondering if you had any more insight or if you think there’s something we should check or worry about. I check her breathing and it seems fine, but I’m very intrigued as to why she’s making that noise! Hope you’re well and thank you for taking the time to answer these questions! – Lucia Faria

Hi Lucia, congratulations on your new bundle of joy! There is nothing better than filling your house with the love of a cat and I wish you both years of happiness together. I am happy to hear that her breathing is fine and that your veterinarian has given her a thorough exam. Since you both suspect the unusual noise is coming from her nose, there could be several possibilities that would cause it. Brachycephalic Airway Syndrome is a medical term given to various upper airway problems found in short-nosed, flat-faced cat breeds. Does your kitty have an unusually short nose or are her nostrils smaller than normal? Stenotic nares and other physical defects like an elongated soft palate or enlarged tonsils would be some things that I would want to make sure are not causing the high-pitched noise. However, with that being said, it appears that your baby is outgrowing her problem because you mentioned that you are hearing it less often. Paws crossed, it totally resolves with age or that it is just something benign and unique to her. Enjoy your special baby and let me know if you have any other concerns.

Cat won’t adjust to harness

My Loki is a Maine Coon cat. He didn’t like being picked up until I bribed him with treats. Now he tolerates being picked up. which is more than I hoped for. He’s a grumpy old man, even tho he’s only 5 years old. He has shown a lot of interest in the outside world. Sometimes I think he’s bored. I bought a Kitty Holster and a leash, and I introduced the harness to him over a period of two weeks. I sprinkled catnip over the harness. I also used the clicker, clicked it and gave Loki a treat every time he came near the harness. He would lie down on the harness, and he didn’t seem bothered by it until I put it on him. Then he cried and refused to move.

I thought that was normal, so after 20 minutes I took the harness off. I’ve put him in the harness several times since then, and the result has been the same. Once I put the Kitty Holster on him and then fed him. He hid for 20 minutes, then he came out and took his usual seat in the window. He roamed around the apartment but he panicked when it was time for me to take the harness off. Each time I talk to him and give him treats but he’s not thrilled with this at all. Afterwards he sometimes acts skittish around me, as though he thinks I’m going to grab him.

I don’t want to torment him. I realize that Loki might not ever adjust to the harness, but I would like to give this a fair try. Do you have any suggestions for me? – Serbella McGee

Hi Serbella, I appreciate you writing in with a common question other readers would like to know more about. Indoor cats certainly do get bored easily and it is hard to keep them active, engaged, and entertained. I commend you for recognizing the problem and trying to give your Loki more activity by attempting to leash train him. However, many cats like him don’t take to harnesses well or appreciate your attempts to get them outdoors safely. It really takes a special personality for a cat to acclimate to a being leash walked and it sounds like Loki is not a fan of it. Because of that, I would not push the issue as it could harm your relationship with him.

Instead, I would attempt to alleviate his boredom in other ways. Open the windows daily and let him smell the outside. Play for 5-10 minutes at a time at least 2-3 times daily. Continue to clicker train him to perform many different acts like getting into his carrier, giving you a high-five, etc. You may explore the option of a kitty backpack or safe stroller to take him outdoors in. I have written several blogs on how to bring the outdoors in and how to make an indoor hunting playground and new ways to eliminate kitty boredom that will help you with creative ideas on ways to keep cats like Loki entertained indoors. It does take effort but is well worth it.

Believe it or not, Loki is exhibiting normal behavior with his displeasure of being picked up. Did you know that most cats view being picked up as something that is dangerous? In the wild, the only time (other than when they were first born) that all four legs would be off the ground at one time is if they were being carried away by a predator. Being picked up equates to being eaten and is a reason to be fearful. Like Loki, many cats learn to tolerate it, but most don’t like it at all. Unless they have been habituated to being picked up from a young age, I recommend people let them sit on their laps or beside them instead. It feels safer and more comfortable from a cat’s point of view.

I hope you feel better knowing that Loki is normal in his response to the harness and I again thank you for bringing this subject up. Getting cats accustomed to leash walking is best accomplished when they are young and more and more owners are attempting this with their kittens. For cats who are well acclimated to it, safely going outside is a wonderful way to add enrichment to their lives and allows them to enjoy fresh air, sunshine and the ability to explore.

Do you have a question for Dr. Bahr? Leave it in a comment!

*FTC Disclosure: The Conscious Cat is a participant in Etsy’s affiliate program. This means that if you decide to purchase through any of our links, we get a small commission. We only spread the word about products and services we’ve either used or would use ourselves.

The post Ask the Cat Doc: Urine Marking, Cardiomyopathy, Chirping Noise, and More appeared first on The Conscious Cat.