#do NOT look up the Wish Factory pitch

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 1: new haven, new me

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"Who...who are you?" the woman asked into the darkness, voice quivering as if she were cold. I encircled her, my sharp claws tapping the stone pavement and tail dragging behind. I was distorting the noises to make it seem like I was everywhere.

"I go by many names," I said sweetly, "Python. Snake Demon. Dragon Demon. All which fit me perfectly." I let the shadows melt away from me, revealing my Demon form to the scared Human.

I wore my usual outside attire: dark grey dress pants, black and silver clasp belt, black turtle neck, and a dark maroon blazer. It was topped off with the necklace of Alastor's crest. It became the crest of the Hazbin Haven guard command.

"What do you want?" she half demanded. Her face was coated in cuts and bruises and her leg was bent at an awkward angle from attempting to jump roofs.

I knelt down, my face inches from hers, and placed a daring claw under her chin. "Where is Blackwater's factory?"

Her scared demeanor faded, replaced by a look of anger and determination. "You'll need to kill me, then. Blackwater's legacy will live on in all of us."

"What a shame," I said as I stood back up, "I was gracing you with the opportunity to live. No matter, I'll take your soul and examine your memories." I gripped her soul half a second after she yelled. Her cries were no longer heard in the physical world, reaching my ears and mine only. The other souls I was holding onto were frantic for a new soul's energy. She could see their pitch black, wide, screaming faces.

Then I let go. Her soul fell back into her body and she stared up at the night sky, face as pale as a ghost. Her chest heaved with each breath while her hands gripped at the stone to ground herself.

"Last opportunity," I said, standing above her with my hands in my pants pockets. "Where is the factory?"

"I don't know." Her voice shook. "I'm not...I'm not allowed...to know."

"Then who does?"

"The trucks. They drop it off."

"When is the next shipment coming?" I then asked.

"Next month."

"Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know." I grabbed her soul and she freaked. "It is! It is! Since Blackwater died everything is need-to-know!"

I was silent. I continued to stare into her wide eyes, waiting. Leaving someone in silence usually elicited them to talk more. 

"I get the shipments and I'm just told to sell them. I swear!" She was telling the truth and my disappointment was overwhelming. I swallowed despite the tightness in my throat. I turned the emotion into anger as I leaned over.

"Tell me something useful if you wish to keep your soul in your body." I stared down, eyes brightening and teeth glinting in fake light. Her eyes widened in response.

"I-I-I don't know. I uh...there's...um..." I gave her a few minutes to think. The fear was clouding her judgement and ability to think so I let her ease up just enough to think. "Shipments don't all arrive at the same time to every location. There's probably some shipments still on their way."

"Where are the other sellers?"

She bit her lip. "I also don't know that, either."

I let out an annoyed sigh and straightened up. I knew who I needed to talk with but I hated interacting with him.

I looked down at the women shaking on the cold ground. She had given me the most she could provide. It didn't seem right to take her soul, but now she was a liability.

I stepped over so my feet were on either side and bent at the hip so I was close to her face. "This conversation didn't happen. If someone even suspects me I will return to harvest your soul. Slowly."

Mouth agape and shivering, she nodded. Alcine covered my whole body and I faded into the dark alley, hiding away in the forest on the outskirts of the busy town. Once I manifested, I teleported back home.

I took the long way around the house to give myself time to shed this version of me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my arms and tail as if ridding the personality from my very body. I stepped up on the new porch, eyes glancing at the almost finished portion in front of the living room window, and quietly entered the house.

Reagan had made them all dinner and likely left something for me in the fridge. Not feeling very hungry, I used my magic to keep my steps quiet as I went to my room. I changed out of the dark clothes and put on shin-length loose pants and a white short sleeve. I stretched out my sense to see if any of them were still awake. Fortunately, they were not.

I climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers up to my chin. I kept my dreams away as I slipped into sleep.

The following morning, I was woken to the sound of Nym and Thatcher yelling at each other. Reagan and Lucas must have had an early morning because it was Husker's voice I heard trying to scold them for being loud.

I dressed in my usual 'home' attire, which were simple black dress pants and a light colored top. Today was a thin sweater since we were nearing my favorite season: Fall

My claws tapped on the wood as I walked down the staircase. The rambunctious pair were arguing over the family wristlet. Each member of this family wore a leather wristlet or bracelet that had our crest: a combination of Alastor's crest and my own (the symbol left in the ground when I teleport). Reagan wore a bracelet like I did but the younger pair wanted leather wristlets like Husker. They looked up to the furry uncle. Sometimes too much if someone asked me.

The siblings were sitting at the kitchen counter with Husker on the other side, claws digging into the surface with frustration. Breakfast lay untouched in front of them.

Nym had really short, hazel brown hair and a few freckels on her nose. Her brother, Thatcher, had even shorter hair, typical of boys his age, but his face was coated in the same freckles. His face was usually set in a glare from dealing with his sister while Nym had a wide grin.

"They're the exact same," Husker growled, snatching both items away, mixing them behind his back, then tossing them back into the angry little hands.

"Mine's smaller!" Nym slammed her hands on the counter, half standing on her chair, "he's got buffy wrists."

"Hah! You admit I'm stronger than you!" Thatcher sneered in her face. She shoved his face away, nearly causing him to fall back off his chair.

"Big wrists don't mean you're stronger. Just a bunch of fat."

"Be nice," I spoke softly as I stepped into the kitchen. They went very quiet and settled into their seats.

"I just want my band," Nym looked pointedly to Thatcher.

"And you should have it. However," I took both wristlets from them and held them up to my eye level, "since we cannot decipher the difference, whichever I give will be yours and you need to do something to it that distinguishes it from the other. Understood?"

The two of them nodded silently. It had taken the first full year of parenting them to understand they listened best when spoken to like an adult. Sometimes I could get away with a more adolescent sentence if I put in a few elegant, advanced words for them.

I covered the bracelets in shadows and fizzled them into each of their palms. Nym immediately began to burn her initials into the leather as carefully as she could. The two of them were Slight Humans with a gift of Fire. Their magic was one of the reasons they had been given to me.

"Good morning," Husker sighed, pouring alcohol into his cup.

"Guess you didn't sleep well." We touched foreheads in our usual greeting before I made a plate for myself. Every other day he would come up to eat breakfast with us. It was the only time we had to spend with each other.

"Angel had a bad nightmare last night," was all he gave me.

Nym and Thatcher rattled off about school yesterday since I was gone for the evening. I pretended to listen but my mind was somewhere else. My peripherals could see the calendar hanging off the cabinet behind them. A weight settled in my chest.

Husker was the one to notice the time. He had to be on guard duty and the littles had to be at school. I ushered the two of them out, gently attempting to step on the back of their feet to elicit laughter and urgency. They ran out the door and practically flew down the short hill. I watched them enter the haven and follow the street to the schoolhouse.

"You should come to the dance tomorrow evening," Husker said as he closed the door behind him. Once a month, Charlie hosted a formal dance for the town. It helped people meet each other and gave us a nice event to attend. The first half was for the adults before the later hours were given to the teenagers and their crazy music.

"I don't think so," I said, "I'm hunting for Blackwater still."

"It could do you some good to let loose and dance. I know you love it."

"I do but..." I looked down at my back foot claws. "I still have to do my ritual too."

"It's been seven years now. Maybe you don't need to anymore."

"It's past seven years," I glanced sideways at him, "almost eight by tomorrow. I should be doing my ritual now more than ever."

"You really don't think he's coming back?" Husker asked gently. He had been incredibly understanding and empathetic towards my situation. He was still under Alastor's service and was never treated nearly as kindly as me, but he still offered comfort for my bruised heart.

"You said last time was seven years. It's almost eight. He may not return for another sixty years for all I know. Demons live for centuries."

"I still think you should dance to at least one song. Either before or after your ritual. Think about it." He placed a kind hand on my shoulder before flapping off the porch. I stared after him, watching his figure shrink into a black dot in the sky. I reached inside the front door and opened the drawer of the small decoration table. I withdrew my phone and sent a text message to Vox asking to meet with him.

I sat on the porch chair and closed my eyes. I reached out with my magic and felt the haven. I had read all of Alastor's books in the library and his office since the time of his disappearance. From my readings and sessions with Lucifer, my magic had grown in ways I couldn't imagine.

The souls danced around each other or cluttered together in homes, stores, schoolrooms, and more. I could sense a couple fishermen heading out to sea for the day. The children burned the brightest and a several people found their soulmate here, the thread connecting the pair clearly visible to my eyes. Althea was the only other person in the haven that could see soulmate connections.

My thread came only a few inches off my chest before it faded into nothing.

I stayed in this limbo. I wasn't truly present in my body but not entirely gone into the magic field. It was a comfortable place, a quiet place, that I could lose myself for hours in. There were few things that gave me rest and this was one of them.

The sun had reached its highest point when I finally withdrew back to my physical body. I opened my eyes and saw movement in the corner of my vision. I turned to see Alastor standing with his cane in hand and the other arm tucked neatly behind his back. It wasn't actually him, though. The hurt came back as hard as it had when he first disappeared. 

I drew a deep breath in and let it out, annoyed at how shaky it was when I did. I stood from the porch chair and walked up--walked through--him to the unfinished part of the porch. His figure fizzled into nothing, leaving me feeling cold and alone. I picked up a floorboard and started nailing it into place. 

I had gotten three floorboards down before the tears made it impossible to see the nails. I dropped the hammer and sat back on my heels, shoulders haunched and claws puncturing the new wood. I peeled one off and covered my wet face as I attempted to get control over my erratic breathing.

Where are you?

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Author's Note:

Act Three babyyyyyy

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin husk

[kodared]

☆ Welcome home Neighbor~! ☆

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Human Reader x Welcome Home!

ENDING 1

“Yes, it does matter Angelica.”

Chapter 15/16

Word Count: 5,145 out of 49,687

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She looked at you with a frustrated expression, her nose crinkling as she grimaced.

     “You wouldn't know. You weren't there. Before you showed up everything was perfect.”

“Perfect for you , not for them. They don't even remember their old lives, Angelica.” 

“And They don't need to remember them!” 

You kneeled staring at Angelica. Her chest heaving as she grasped at her pigtails. 

It reminded you of when you were overwhelmed once. You were always one bad customer or one loud noise away from tearing your hair out as well. 

But she was just a child. 

She doesn't understand the permanence of death, or what it means to lose oneself. 

She didn't deserve any of this. Her father. Her death. Any of it.

So you did the one thing you wish everyone else did. 

During days when all you wished for was a gentle hand or a loving embrace. 

Days you spent waiting for your friends to call. 

Hours spent in your room mindlessly scrolling.  

Minutes spent sitting on the couch waiting for your parents to care. 

The many seconds you passed heaving and grieving for a life you've barely begun.

Thick tears of empathy dragged down your face as you carefully shuffled closer to Angelica. They left an uncomfortable sticky feeling on your cheeks. 

You wanted to comfort her. 

“...Angelica, they'd still care for you even if you did give them back their memories..” 

“No, they wouldn't. They would hate me. I just know it!..” 

“They were nice to you when they were alive weren't they?” 

Angelicas' grip loosened on her pigtails. They still clenched tightly on them, but it didn't look nearly as painful as before. 

“They were.. But that was before i turned into Home…. Before i made myself home.” 

“...Why don't you start fresh with them? Be open and honest, tell them who you are Angelica.” 

Angelica sighed and let her hair go, the spider that once sat on her shoulder was no longer there. The spider was reduced to nothing more than a splash of pitch-black ink on her shirt. 

“They would never love me again. Not after what i took,” 

“You can still give them so much though Angelica.” 

“You're more than what you were. Your friends… they're so much better than mine. They will come around in their own time.” 

You stood and offered her your hand, she stared at you for a few seconds before taking it.

She felt cold. 

But you didn't care about that. You held her hand with a gentle squeeze.

“Can i.. Start fresh with you first? You deserve to know how you got here.” 

“Of course.” 

Angelica took a deep breath and wiped the remnants of tears that still clung to her face. 

“When you first came to the factory, I wanted to scare you away. I've had to do it before, you weren't the first to explore.” 

“... But you were the first to look at me.”  

“Like… Really look at me, not just an off-handed glance before spray painting the walls. A look that made me feel seen. It reminded me of the look I was given by Wally when I first came to the studios. It was caring.” 

  You waited as she took a pause and looked up at you, her eyes still glossy from tears already shed. 

“I watched as you fell. The floors weren't steady enough to support you.” 

You could feel your brain slowly connecting the dots. Suddenly her cold hand was a lot more uncomfortable. 

“I had to take your soul like I did the others.” 

She had to.

She wanted to save you. 

She did what she needed to. 

Thoughts swirled in your head like a hurricane. 

What about my parents?

Or my friends?

Did they grieve me?

Did anyone even look for me? 

“Y/N please understand I was only trying to help. I tried taking your memories I really did! I thought you and Wally would get along so well so I!-” 

                      You let go of Angelicas' hand abruptly and staggered back. Your hands clasped firmly over your mouth to avoid letting out any noise. You just needed a minute.

A minute alone. 

Just one second where you could process what was going on.

Death was something that was always so far away from you in your normal life.

But now it was a fact.

You had died in that building.

That fucking building. 

You were only trying to impress your friends but look where it got you. Six feet under. 

You could hear Angelica trying to calm you down. For a child, she was eerily mature. That rubbed you the wrong way. Why was a child acting so mature? 

…Unless.

“...Are you really Angelica Domum.” 

Your voice was still shaky, and you now leaned against the wall away from her. You could feel the ink beyond the wall form around your back. It felt like a firm waterbed. 

“What do you mean?... Of course I am.” 

“How old are you?...” 

Angelica looked serious for a moment. Her face now contorting in a way you hadn't expected. 

“You're clever.” 

—---- ------------

Howdy could feel you shaking as you slept, he was worried for you. He had set up the bed downstairs while Eddie and Frank watched over you.

It had been a few days since your fight with home.  

All the neighbors were worried for you. Even Wally spent most of his time sitting by your side. 

Howdy let out a sigh and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. He was happy you came into his life. He felt a sense of protection over you ever since you arrived. 

He didn't know how long you would sleep for. Neither did Frank. 

It worried him that Frank didn't even know how long you would stay asleep. He knew the most about humans. 

Howdy sighed and stood to go to his own bed. He had spent the better half of the day making sure you slept soundly. He needed to rest. 

He walked towards the phone on the wall and went to dial Wally at Frank's house. They routinely switched off with watching over you, but as he picked up the phone his head hurt. 

Everything hurt. 

He fell on the wall, his hand taking the brunt of the impact before raising another and holding his head. 

An onslaught of memories flooded his mind. 

This wasnt his body. 

— --------

Rage gripped your being as you lunged for the creature disguised as the little girl. She had tricked you. 

Made you feel vulnerable. 

Made you sympathize with her. 

All the while she was just a ghost that haunted the studios. 

A vengeful girl.

Maybe an overworked writer.

Possibly an underappreciated janitor.

Less likely a corporate head for Playfellow. 

In front of you was none of those things though. 

In your eyes, all she was, or ever be would be. 

Was the monster keeping you and your friends under her thumb. 

You threw the first punch. It felt wrong punching a kid but you got over it quickly as she screamed and let out a sound that was anything but human. 

Her body recoiled as she staggered backward. The walls now slowly turning a messy grey instead of the stark white they once were. 

“Your wise yknow. I wouldve loved writing adventures for you and Frank.” 

You tried to ignore her words and lunged forward to throw another punch, only to feel her grab your fist. 

She looked up at you with a large, uncanny smile. 

“It's a shame your mind wasnt as vulnerable as the others.” 

She pushed you back with strength like you've never felt. Your torso slammed against the waterbed-like walls that had now begun to leak ink from the ceiling. 

You tried to catch your breath for a moment, but it was shortly lived as you watched Angelica raise her hand. 

Ink trickled down from the ceiling and began to take shape around her fist. Making a larger hand form. One that would put you out of commission for a long while. 

“You were so easy to trick though. Well! This has been fun Neighbor.”

“But I think it's time you take your final bow.” 

You tensed and squeezed your eyes shut tight. Anticipating a blow that would kill you again.

…Why aren't you in pain yet? 

You begrudgingly open your eyes and see Angelica frozen in place. The ink that once formed a fist now slowly dripping down her arm. You didn't sit confused for long. 

You followed her eyes to the wall behind you, which had begun to cave around your body. 

You must not have felt it in your state of pain and shock. 

Before Angelica could say anything, the ink on her fist caught fire. 

Just as Angelica let out a scream, the wall behind you burst. Quickly filling the room with ink. 

Before you had the chance to process anything, you were knocked out. 

Whether it was from the sheer force of the wall bursting, or from the shock your body had been put under you didn't know. 

– .------

Your head was spinning as you woke up. 

The floor you layed-...  

The material under you was too soft to be a floor. 

You tried to move your hand to feel under you, but you stopped after you felt pain shooting up your fingers and wrist. 

You groaned. The room was pitch black, and there was a small amount of pressure on your ankle. It wasnt uncomfortable, but it wasnt exactly a position you wanted to be in. 

The room smelt nostalgic. It reminded you of Howdys house. 

…. 

…Were you back at Howdys? 

You felt whatever was on your ankle shift. Before you had the chance to speak you heard someone running down steps before the lights clicked on. 

The room you were in was most definitely Howdys basement, you've slept here a multitude of times. 

One thing caught your attention though. 

There was a man at the top of the stairs. 

He was human. 

His outfit reminded you of Howdys, but not quite. He still wore his hat, but his hair was now a messily dyed blue on top of normal blonde. 

“Oh thank the stars you're okay!”

His voice was the same as Howdys. 

He ran down the steps and practically flung himself at you. You found yourself unable to protest. All the recent events of the day crashed down on you all at once. 

Sobs shook through you as you clung to the stranger. Small shivers ran through your body as you tried to mentally process everything that happened. 

“Youre alright now Y/N, ive gotcha” 

You took comfort in the hand that rubbed gentle circles onto your back. Until you heard a very familiar voice. 

“you've been asleep for a long time neig- y/n.” 

You almost pushed Howdy off in a state of panic. It was safe to assume by now the person holding you was Howdy. 

And the pressure you felt on your ankle was a sleeping Wally. Who was now also awake. 

“...How long?-” 

You let out a series of coughs as you tried to speak, your throat dry from days of not using it. 

“I'll grab ya some water!” 

Howdy was quick to run back upstairs to grab you water. Now that he no longer held you, you got a good look at Wally. 

He too was now human, and he looked downright exhausted.

He was a shorter man, his hair no longer curled up into a pompadour. It now hung loosely in his face, it reminded you of when you had a spa day with all of them. 

His skin was tan, and his left arm was wrapped in bandages that had specklings of blood seeping through them. That must've been from when you threw the scissors at him. 

“youve been asleep now for three days, we didn't think you would ever wake up,” 

You nodded and looked down at yourself to occupy your mind. Your arms were covered in bandages which stung every time you tried to move them. 

You remembered Sallys' stage burning down. It seems you didn't make it out as unscathed as you had hoped. 

The bandages were wrapped surprisingly well, much better than you'd expect from puppets. You guess they weren't puppets anymore, which begged a bigger question. 

“we tried to cover your burns the best we could… me and howdy that is, the others were too scared to help. they didn't want to hurt you more..” 

You didn't have the strength to nod back and acknowledge Wally after everything that happened, so you just fell back on the soft bed. 

It let out a dull squeak as you laid back. Wally laughed softly, it sounded genuine. 

“im… 'm sorry for everything that happened y/n. you should have never been dragged into this.”

  You forced words out of your mouth despite how badly it hurt to breathe and talk. 

“Did you know?” 

You craned your neck to look down at Wally, who still rested his hand on your ankle. He gently fidgeted with the blanket on top of you. 

“not for a long while. it felt like it was hidden by… fake memories, but you fixed that. i don't know how but you did. we all remembered, and the next day we were back to normal.” 

Wally sighed and laid his head back down on the bed as well. 

“as normal as you can be for being dead and being in limbo that is,” 

You wanted to console Wally. None of this was his fault either. 

Before you could speak though Howdy had begun to clamber down the stairs again. This time carrying a glass of water. 

“Sorry I took a minute!.. Had to fight off the others,” 

You smiled and tried to sit up again to take the water. Before you could Howdy was already by your side helping you to sit. He held the water to your mouth and you accepted his help. 

It hurt to move your body right now so you were thankful for all the help you could get. 

“...Thank you Howdy,” 

“ Don't mention it y/n, you've helped us all so much. It's the least I can do.” 

After drinking over half of the water, you backed away and watched Howdy set it down before continuing. 

“...What happened while I was out? I remember Sallys', but everything other than that was.. In my brain,” 

“When you passed out we all tried our best to keep you comfortable. On the second day though I got this splittin’ headache. Like.. fall over and clutch your antenna type of headache.” 

Wally sat back up, 

“then we all remembered. we remembered everything.” 

Howdy nodded, and you sat shocked. 

“We remembered dyin’ and we remembered being human. We didn't know what to do, but we knew it was Home's fault.” 

Wally looked at the bed solemnly and didn't say anything else. Howdy continued, 

“Barnaby was the angriest… He took it into his own hands and, well. Got rid of Home. He burnt the house down… Wallys been stayin’ here helpin' me look after you.” 

“... I'm sorry that happened Wally..” 

You felt for him, Home was a friend to him before you arrived. You couldn't imagine the emotional whiplash he was going through- 

“home deserved it.” 

…Or maybe not. 

“homes the reason our memories were blocked off for so long. im sad, but not for home. im sad you got involved. you didn't even work at the studios.” 

Howdy nodded, 

“We don't know why Home wanted you here with us Y/N. Selfishly I'm happy you came here. Without you, we wouldn't have remembered. None of us wouldve.” 

You heard the door open and hushed whispers erupting from the top of the steps. 

“ Quiet down!.. You're all bein’ louder than a rooster in the morning! I would know!” 

“Oh dear, I just can't help it! The poor dear must be starving after all that sleeping!..” 

“ Ms. Patridge I don't think they'd want cupcakes first thing in the mornin’..” 

You recognized Barnaby's voice in the beginning, the older southern voice had to be poppy. You could never forget Eddie's voice too, seems they were all being nosy. 

You let out an airy chuckle, Wally spoke up. 

“im sorry we can't go home y/n, but… we’d be happy to have you here until we all find a way to move on…” 

You could hear them all finally slowly walk down the steps, Eddie let out a gasp and ran down first. The others followed soon after. 

Howdy tried to hold them off, but it was no use. You couldn't escape the hug pile. 

You laughed and tried to hug them all back. 

You may have lost your old life, but now it is time to start a new one. 

One where you didn't have to worry about money. 

One where you wouldn't have to sit for hours waiting for a text or call from your friends. 

…One where you felt loved. 

And it felt nice. 

—-- 

It took a while to adjust to everything that had changed. 

In limbo, you didn't have to eat, but you still found yourself baking with Poppy every Sunday.

Howdy had made you a bedroom in the basement, but all the neighbors were helping to build you your own house. 

Wally now had a new, nonsentient house. He wasnt used to the lack of noise, so he still visited you and Howdy frequently. 

You still didn't know how to move on to whatever came after limbo, but you couldn't find yourself caring. 

You felt comforted here. 

You felt loved here. 

You had buddies here. 

And that's all that concerned you. 

So you would savor it for however long it would last. If and when you all move on you'll meet them again. 

-----

woof! im so happy to finally have this posted!! feel free to read the ao3 version which has some hidden messages sprinkled through! Next and final ending should be posted in the oncoming weeks!

I might make a seperate story with some oneshots in it related to this where you go on adventures with the others! I cant see myself doing a sequel to this but i might!

until next time! 🐾

#whn #welcome home #updates #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home neighbor #chapter 15 #eddie dear x reader #human reader #human reader x welcome home

[gabessquishytum]

It’s morning here so I wanted to wish you a good morning. I hope you have a wonderful day and you know what a treasure you are for allowing all of us to be insane and horny in your ask box.

While I was driving to work this morning a song came on which - up until now - I didn’t realise was super problematic (English is not my first language and when it was first released in 2011 I didn’t speak a lick of it) but we do love problematic stuff for Dreaming, don’t we?

All things the singer wishes for his love to be kinda fit unhinged Dreamling, but what stuck with me was I often wish that you had feathers, I'd keep you in a giant cage / All day long I'd sit and watch you, I'd sing for you and that would be okay

To imagine Dream as this magnificent creature with wings is all too easy. They’re huge and dark as night. When he moves them and the light hits them just right, you swear you can see entire galaxies of stars reflected in them. But it’s not just the creature’s wings that are mesmerising, it’s the creature, too. Its skin is alabaster white, lithe muscles move underneath with every spin and turn the creature performs in the air. On his head there’s an unruly mop of pitch-black hair, that looks as downy soft as his wings. His lips are pink, perfect to be kissed and he has the most mesmerising electric blue eyes. It’s breathtaking and when Hob sees him for the first time- He knows he must have him.

He has no idea what the creature is, how to approach it and let alone how to capture it, but Hob is nothing if not determined. He finds an old, dilapidated building, nestled in a valley, far away from civilisation. He thinks it might be an old factory, but nature has already started to reclaim it and it’s hard to see. It’s unimportant anyway because this place is perfect for his needs.

He starts building a large cage, more than large enough to house twenty of his mysterious creature, wide enough to he can unfurl his wings without the tips brushing the metal on either side. He lugs wood around, fabric, supplies, every day for weeks and months and after a year, it’s finished: a gilded cage, furnishings fit for a king but a cage nonetheless.

His own quarters are done up as well. They are much more simple but it doesn’t matter anyway. Step one of his plan is complete now and he goes on to step two.

He will capture his creature.

With his bow slung over his shoulder, he sets out to where he saw him first. It’s quite a trek, but he made sure that his hideout would be far away from the creature’s usual grounds.

When he sees Dream again, it’s like a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t be possible, but he might be even more beautiful now that Hob hasn’t seen him in a year than he had been before. And Hob waits. Day in, day out he sits and watches. The creature has friends - or family? - that sometimes join him in the sky, but bar a few occasions he always seems to isolate himself from the rest of them. He’s up there first and leaves last, soaring through the sky long after the sun has set.

Which is when Hob takes his chance. He shoots.

The arrow hits its mark as intended. The creature, caught in the middle of a swoop close to the ground, plummets.

Hob hides his bow and rushed to the side. “Are you hurt?”, he asks, even though it’s perfectly clear Dream is. “Let me help you.”

As was his plan, Hob takes Dream back to the abandoned factory. He laced his arrow with a sedative, so Dream won’t wake during the long track back. He’s heavy to carry but Hob manages and his heart soars when the door of the cage shuts with a decisive click of the lock.

He’s caught him. He’s well and truly caught his mystic creature.

The wound on Dream isn’t fatal, but it’s bad enough that he’s out of it for a few days. Hob takes good care of his treasure, nursing him back to health. During the day he goes out to hunt with traps and a knife, no bow in sight, never a bow, and to collect fruit in the forest. He feeds Dream until he can sit upright and look around. He dresses an redresses his injury until he can stand and take the first wobbling steps after two weeks lying down.

Dream doesn’t speak, at least not in a language Hob can understand. His delicate fingers clutch the bars of the cage and he seems to plead with Hob, but Hob just smiles and watches him. Even here, in the dim light that falls through the patchy roof, and with wings that start to look a little worn from lack of care, Dream is still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He starts bringing back gifts from his hunting trips, little things he thinks might cheer Dream up, who has taken to moping in the corner. He steals a silk robe now that the air has a slight chill to it at night, so Dream won’t be cold. He gifts him a brush-

Dream doesn’t use it on the hair on his head, but rather on his wings. It looks like he’s struggling to reach all the right places, so Hob takes the brush from him to help. The moan Dream lets out when Hob brushes over the scapulars isn’t one of pain but one of pleasure. So he continues until Dream is writhing and shaking and pleading underneath him- Dream comes from this, arching his back gracefully, his cum soiling the silk robe Hob has gifted him. It’s a breathtaking sight. Hob cleans him up before he leaves, taking the robe with him. It smells of his creature and he presses his face to it while he lays back on his own bed, hand around his prick.

It becomes a ritual of theirs after that. Dream tries to retreat every time Hob steps into his cage, but he relents as soon as Hob starts to brush his feathers. He’s face down on the bed and within minutes he’s rubbing his aching cock against the covers for a little relief, fighting the urge to reach for Hob. He acts like he doesn't want this, like he doesn't crave Hob's touch, but really--

And Hob, as soon as he leaves the cage, he’s divesting himself of his clothes, watching Dream’s wings flutter through the aftershocks while he gets himself off imagining how it would feel to kiss those wings while he fucks into him over and over. Maybe next time…

Love, 💄

Oh, darling 💄 anon!!!! This is an absolutely flawless concept and you've captured it so well with your words!!! I can't stop imagining a beautiful winged Dream soaring through the skies all day. Of course Hob would be enamored, driven to madness by beauty. If Hob hadn't caught him then surely someone else would, someone who would treat him far worse.

That's what Hob tells himself anyway. He is so good to his creature, he takes such care over his welfare. Brings him nice things to eat and makes sure he's beautifully groomed. Of course he must see to his creature's other needs too. Dream obviously craves touch and needs to cum as frequently as a man might. Hob is only being kind by helping him...

Dream meanwhile, lives in a kind of in-between mental state. Knowing that this could be so much worse, yet yearning for freedom. Why can't he stop himself from giving in to his captors warm, clever hands? He's afraid of his own feelings. Each day he promises himself that he'll try to escape, and each day passes without an attempt...

Yes, it's a strange life, but Hob is so happy. And his creature seems... content? More so each day. He no longer mopes in the corner. He leans in to Hob’s touch. And each day he grows more and more beautiful. If Hob let him go, he would be more vulnerable to another capture.

Better to keep him safe, then. Besides, Hob knows that once he finally fucks him? His creature won't want to leave. He'll want to be pampered and loved and fucked forever. And Hob fully intends to give him all of that and more.

#💄 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw noncon #cw dubcon #cw monsterfucking

[pudding-parade]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

Seeing @zoeoe-sims post of this reminded me that several people had tagged me with this right around the time that my cat died a few weeks ago, too. I wasn't in a place to do this then, but…better late than never? I guess?

I babbled, as usual, so I cut for your protection.

Are you named after anyone? My paternal grandmother. Which is fortunate because she's the only one of my grandparents that I liked. Also, my mother because her maiden name is one of my middle names. (I have two. Fancy!) No comment on whether or not I like my mother. LOL

When was the last time you cried? I cried unhappily a lot when my cat died recently. I still get teary-eyed when I think of her or see something that reminds me of her. But, I also cry happy tears when babies are born on my little hobby farm, and since it's that time of the year, I've been crying a lot lately. :)

Basically, I'm a tear factory. A syrupy commercial will make me cry. You should've seen me when I was pregnant. Speaking of which…

Do you have kids? I birthed three, one conceived against my will when I was 17, but raised only two of them. I probably shouldn't have raised any, frankly. I'm not a good parent, and I don't like kids until they're about 8 or 10. But, when you're caught up in a Christian cult, there's intense pressure to procreate. I fear I really messed up my son, but at least I had my daughter when I was mostly out of the cult/god-belief in general, so I feel I did better by her.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh, absolutely not. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

What sports do you play/have you played? Volleyball. Preferably 2-on-2 because it's more energetic and fun. (If you've ever watched beach volleyball on the Olympics, that's what I do. Or did, when I could.) I'm tall, so I'm pretty good at it. (Not good at basketball, though, because I can't for the life of me run and bounce a ball at the same time.) But mostly I prefer solo pursuits, usually of the "extreme" variety. Free climbing was a passion of my younger years, and I also did some BASE jumping back then. (I wish wing suits had been a thing when I did it. That looks amazing.) White-water kayaking. Skiing/snowboarding. Basically, I'm pretty active when I can be. Chronic health conditions limit me now.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Whatever I notice. I don't know. I talk to lots of people, and in the longer term I notice whether or not they can hold a coherent conversation, whether or not they have interests beyond professional sports, tv shows/celebrities, or shoes/fashion, and whether or not they are able to use their higher brain functions. When it comes to possible romantic relationships, I'm strongly attracted to intelligence, eloquence, and unabashed nerdiness, so the ability to use one's brain and have conversations is important to me.

That said, I have to admit that the very first thing I noticed about my husband (almost 10 years ago to this day, in fact) was how nice his ass looked in tight black leather pants, so there's that, too. I like a nice ass as much as the next person. And nice tits. (It's great being pansexual.) But, if all a person has is a great ass/pair of tits, then I lose interest very quickly. Looks fade and gravity does its thing and all that.

Scary movies or happy endings? I don't watch a lot of movies because I find just sitting and watching one to be pretty boring. (Which is odd because I spent much of my adult career as a studio musician working on movie soundtracks.) I'm much better off watching TV shows, which are shorter. But, if I'm going to watch a movie at all, it's either going to be sci-fi or a comedy. Sci-fi can be creepy/scary sometimes (i.e., Alien), and comedies usually have a happy ending, so…both? I guess?

Any special talents? I have perfect pitch and am musically gifted, though my instrumental skills are far superior to my singing skills. That's about it, unless you count the fact that I can wiggle my ears to a freakish degree and independently of each other, like a cat. In fact, I have a number of atavisms like that, probably because my family on both sides is pretty damn inbred.

Where were you born? In Amish country in Indiana, USA. I haven't been back there since I was 16, though. (And since I'm 59, that was a long time ago.)

Well, OK, technically I was born in New York City because my parents were visiting my mom's parents, and I wanted out earlier than expected. (Typical of me, really.) I didn't actually live in NYC until I went to music school, however, and I was raised on a dairy farm in Indiana that my parents owned and paid Amish folks to run for them. So, I grew up hanging out with cows and Amish kids, mostly. LOL

What are your hobbies? Aside from playing video games? Too many, because I don't have time to do them all as much as I would like. Belly dancing and pole dancing. (Both are great for your core.) Composing music. The above-mentioned sports, to the extent that I can do them now. Swing dance. Embroidery/cross-stitch/hand-sewing/lace-making. Horseback riding. Painting. (Only paint-by-numbers because I don't have the time/patience to learn otherwise.) Home improvement projects. (I love me a good tiling job. Currently, I'm working with my husband on our Burmese python's future room because he's quickly growing out of the enclosure we have him in.) Reading scientific papers and popular science articles, especially about dinosaurs. Amateur astronomy. I want to get into doing some woodworking, too, though I have to get over my fear of power saws first.

Basically, my problem is that I have too many interests and not enough time.

Do you have any pets? I have a (mostly) hobby farm, so…

Four horses that are used for just casual and trail riding, so they're basically lushes who laze in the sun and drink a lot of beer, so much that a local microbrewery has their hoppy stout named after my hoppy-stout-loving, beer-snob horse.

Small(ish) herds of both llamas and alpacas. We breed alpacas for their fiber, which we sell combed but otherwise raw to people/companies who spin it to make yarn and stuff. I have fun doing artificial selection with them, breeding for color and fiber texture and stuff. We breed llamas as guard animals, which are basically guard dogs for other livestock. They're more effective against large predators like mountain lions (their natural enemy) than dogs are while requiring much less in the way of training, food, water, etc. So, I have fun with artificial selection with them, too, breeding for (bad) temperament.

A flock of chickens, which is nice because, even though I'm vegan, I'll eat their eggs because I have tons and I know these hens live a life of decadent luxury, complete with a heated coop so they are comfortable year-round. All of them are doted-on, get daily attention (they love sitting in laps) and die of old age unless a predator gets them. Honestly, they're probably my favorite of the farm animals. LOL They are so sweet and so low-maintenance.

Two beehives, though I'm not sure they count as pets. They do require maintenance, though. Them's some hard-working ladies!

Indoors, I have four dogs, three cats, two snakes, and three tarantulas. And an aquarium set-up full of dragonfly nymphs.

(And, I have employees to do most of the farm work because I can't do most of it anymore, and my husband has a real job he loves, and my kids are moved out so no more free labor. Because otherwise my life would consist of nothing but farm chores/animal care.)

How tall are you? 6'0"/183cm. Very tall for a woman, and my build is quite man-like. Being a tall woman is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Like, I can reach whatever I want to reach and be good at volleyball, but finding clothes that fit right is a nightmare. Which is why I got decent at hand-sewing, because I have to alter pretty much everything I buy that's meant for women, even stuff in "tall" sizes, and I got tired of paying to have it done. I really should just make my own clothes from scratch, but there's that time issue again. So, I make do by buying mostly men's clothes. But sometimes you just wanna be pretty, y'know? (Plus, lately, if you go to use a women's restroom while not looking sufficiently female, you'll get very suspicious looks -- and sometimes worse -- from certain idiots waiting for their wife/girlfriend/daughter to come out of the restroom. 🙄)

Fave subject in school? Erm…I didn't actually go to school much. I was enrolled in a private school, but I was traveling and performing as a pianist starting when I was 7 but especially once I was 10. So, I was mostly educated by a private tutor who traveled with me, specifically by a Catholic nun who was in her mid-60s when I was a child. She looked scary, but she was the sweetest woman who ever lived while also being fucking brilliant so it's a damned shame she went into a nunnery. I bawled like a baby at her funeral many years ago.

But ANYWAY! Believe it or not, grammar was my favorite subject. Being educated by a nun, grammar was a Big Thing, but I enjoyed diagramming sentences, which is something that I don't think is taught in schools anymore. (But it should be!) I used to do it for fun. Beyond that, I love any history that isn't US history, and science. All of it. Except physics because calculus hates me. My love of dinosaurs came from my tutor, who was also very interested in them. Which is possibly weird, for a nun, but there it is.

Dream job? Being retired. Which I am. Yay!

Eye color? It says hazel on my driver's license, and I guess that's the closest description. They're basically a muddy green with some flecks of yellow.

I'm not going to tag anyone because it's been a while, and I don't know who's done this. But, if you'd like to do it, consider yourself tagged.

#non sims #memes memes glorious memes #i promise i'll get back to posting sims stuff one of these days

[britishcupoftea]

The reckoners. Steelheart fic, Brandon sanderson >>>

yea that’s right I am a massive Brandon fan. Slay king. My favourite series of his was Steelheart, so yes I did write a fanfic of it help me and my mental health 😭 it’s from a guards pov right at the beginning of the book. Please I’m crying, what is this 😭😭😭😭

The play had just ended and a stream of people began hustling out of the double doors of the playhouse. Many men and women emerged wear old fashioned clothes in top hats and laced dresses, apparently some epic in the ranks had started the trend. I didn’t care for that though, I was just trying to survived here in Chicago, just like everyone else. The crowd parted slightly and   Fortuity moved through them, he was easy to recognise in his red suit and the two woman that hung onto his shoulders. Such a lady’s man wasn’t he, ridiculous , every time I saw the guy he has another set of chicks following him round like puppies. Even so I hefted my rifle in my arms and stood to attention. Spritz has hired me to do some guard work at the playhouse for the next couple days, and somehow Steelheart had let him hire me, I wasn’t alone though. Thomas Thatcher stood on the other side of the double doors and watched the wave of people, I didn’t know him personally but it was nice he didn’t constantly talk over coms unlike some of the other officers I worked with. There he goes again, I saw Fortuity advance towards a blonde woman in tight red dress. ‘She’s up for a fun time I thought’ Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted a figure in a near by alleyway.

“Thomas?” I paused. “Yeah?” Came his crackled reply. I had always thought the sound just as the radio picked up was satisfying, like when you perfectly open a bag of crisps and it give that nice crunch… anyway, “Hey do you see the subject standing in that alleyway?” That’s what Steelheart made us call them, ‘subjects’ it dehumanised the people of  Chicago, like they were merely objects in the way or test subjects like lab rats. “Your gonna have to be more specific buddy” I sighed, sometimes I wished poeple would just know what I mean, and I could have replied something snappy like ‘you have two eyes so use them idiot’ but I didn’t. That’s the sort of thing they taught us at the factory not to do, saying stuff like that could get me and others killed. “Two buildings up and to the left, I think it’s the entrance to the under streets.” I saw Thomas turn his head to look in that direction. “Sure do, what’s do you think the subject is looking at?” The man in the alleyway turned slightly, I think he was following something and I myself turned my gaze to look at whatever this strange person was looking at. As I watched a thought crept into my mind… and I looked at Fortuity. Then I looked back at the man in the alleyway. Then I looked between them again.

Shit what is this dude was after Fortuity? “I going to check him out.” I said, leaving my post from beside the door and started shoving through the crowd towards the alley. Not many people noticed as I pushed through, but the ones that did turned round with angry looks on there faces. “Uhh dude what are you doing?” Thomas said into my ear, “Hold on…” I said, not even sure what I was going to say to him after. What was this man doing? He was just stood there in the alley, watching Fortuity. I didn’t know too much about the epics I worked with and protected but I knew that Fortuity wasn’t easy to hurt, he had a power that predicted stuff, all kinds of stuff and especially if he was gonna get injured or hurt. So what was he doing? Even as I shoved through the crowd, nearing the man, I couldn’t see much of his features, tall, brown hair, worn hoodie, and some black trousers. Most of his features where hidden in shadow, after Steelheart had taken over the city, Nightwielder had been one of the first epics to going his reign of terror, and ever since the day he joined… everything has been pitch black. See nightwielder has the unique ability to block out the sun, and the whole sky as well, so for nearly a decade the whole of Chicago has been living in darkness, and it was even worse just after the great transvergen, when Steelheart had turned the city to steel.

But now at least people had hung lanterns on the frozen street lamps and new lights had been set up around the city, and even in the understreets there was power and lights, some even say all the way down in the steel catacombs there are lights hanging from the ceilings, I have never been down that far but that’s what stories say. Finally I got near enough to be in earshot of the man and I pulled my rifle off my back strap and moved towards him. The man suddenly bolted… I was startled, he hadn’t seemed to notice me before, as I had approached him but… checking behind me, I glanced round and noticed Fortuity was gone. Shit! I booted after the man down the alleyway, and turned the corner after him, my rifle at hand. “HEY! Dude! What are you doing?” Thomas voice was loud in my ear, I hadn’t turned the volume up on my mobil… nope Thomas was shouting. “Explain later, ask for a core cell, and a team of enforcement!” I shouted out of breath into my mic. I was sprinting down behind one of the buildings after the man, he disappeared down another alley and I struggled to keep up.

Damn this stupid enforcement vest! I rounded the corner just in time to see the figure fling open a set of wooden doors and dash up a fire exit. Wooden doors? During the great transvergen everything had been turned to steel, everything so that means these doors had been carved out and replaced with wooden ones. And them being replaced means this place has been scouted and look at, people spent time doing this, that means there was a plan that involved being chased and going into this building… Everything formed so quickly in my head and I slowed to a jog. I turned off the safety on my gun. Razing the the rifle up, I pushed opened the door with my left hand. Above me I could hear faint footsteps as someone, I’m assuming the man I was chasing, jogged up the stairs. My mobli bussed and Thomas’ rough voice came through, “Alright dude tell me what’s going on, Cornel won’t send the troops unless you tell him what’s going on, he’s joining the coms now.” Then I hear the small beep as Cornel joined the call. “Officer 158 what’s going on? Why have you left your post?” I hated the Cornel, he was a strict, merciless man who whipped my ass. One of my earlier memory on the force was that slaunce shouting his stupid fat face off at me for no reason. “I thinks there’s going to be a hit on Fortuity, I saw a man watching him and ran off down some alleys and I followed him.

But there was some old iron doors here that have been replaced with wood, so that makes me think this has been planned out. Fortuity also disappeared, so I think he might be in trouble…” I trailed off as I relised my mistake and prepared for the shouting I was about to get. “YOU DON’T HAVE EYES ON FORTUITY?” I should have turned down the volume…

Omg why did I read that and was like wow. Should I write more from the guards pov? end of the short story😍 okay well it’s not cringe af, mid. Lmk if anyone had any requests

#brandon sanderson #steelheart #writers on tumblr #short story #fanfic #creative writing

[mayhem-moth]

FIRST OLD HORROR STORY (QUALITY IS NOT GOOD)(FOR CONTEXT WE PLAYED A GAME WHERE WE MADE A STORY BASED OF AN IMAGE)(THE IMAGE WAS A TREE IN WATER)

She waded in the glimmering, shiny water and climbed unto the tree. This tree was not the usual tree, this tree held secrets and knowledge beyond any living beings understanding. She knew the tree would very rarely share however she was desperate. She recited the words to awaken the tree. “Bless me with knowledge and what’s mine can be yours, Tell me your secrets and let the unknown be known”. She waited, her heart dropped. It must be a myth after all… she thought feeling embarrassed for being so naive.That is when as if on cue, a light breeze drifted through the area, at least it started that way. The winds quickly swarmed around the area shaking the brush and scaring all creatures away. The wind appeared opaque and acted as a dome around the area, blocking almost all light. Except for a hole that sunshine shone through which landed right on her and the tree. She was extremely startled and did not know what to think. That is when she heard an almost alien voice with barley any human in it. It was just high enough of a screech to not hurt her ears. “What do you wish to know child?”. She heard the voice say. This was her opportunity to speak.” I wish to know the fate of my sister!” she yelled, trying to fiegn confidence despite being absolutely terrified. “You wish to obtain knowledge about your sister?”The tree pondered. “It is interesting how much you humans care about each other, despite never really knowing one another”. “Please… I just want to know where my sister is… She could be in danger!”She was desperate and panicking. She knew the tree could loose interest or refuse to comply at any moment. “ but… what will I get in return?” the tree asked in a sly manner, “ no good deed goes unrewarded”. “Anything! I just need to know where my sister is!”. “ Very well”. Then she fell and all she saw was black. No thoughts or feelings, Just an infinite rest.

She awoke, however she wasn’t in her body. In fact she couldn’t move. She panicked, and tried to tense her muscles but they would not move. It’s as if her entire body was paralyzed. After struggling for a while, she surveyed her surroundings. It was pitch black. She could feel her body on something cold and hard. Then she heard the metalic clanking and whirring of a machine. A door opened in front of her lighting the area. It was a factory of sorts. She was on a silver metal platform. This platform raised sliding her onto a conveyor belt. There she saw thousand of strange objects on random conveyor belts and machinery. She was awestruck at just how vast the factory was. However her pure curiosity was cut short by overwhelming terror. As in front of her was an incinerator. The flames lapped at the grimy blackened metal. She tried to scream. To run. But it was for naught as she was trapped in this body unable to move. She felt an overwhelming amount of distress. Every part of her being telling her to get up, move, speak, scream. However she was stuck and utterly hopeless. Until eventually the conveyor belt moved her further to her demize at an agonizingly slow pace. Her legs dangling over the fires. Until eventually her body slipped into the hell hole bellow. In her final moments she braces herself for the unbearable pain that was coming her way.

And then she woke up.

She awoke in her body. The sunlight shone through the tree and hit her eyes. The glimmering, clear water lapping against her cheeks. There was nothing but birds chirping and the peaceful rushing of the water. Everything looked completely normal. She got up. Her heart still racing. She decided that it was all a dream. She then proceeded to wade out of the water and unto the shore. After that she quickly ran home. Behind the tree there was a single, charred skull.

[hollybell51]

Chapter Nine

Love is like a drug, just a really bad one

A Heart of Ice - Jack Frost x fem!Reader

Chapter Eight, masterpost

Word count: 549

Summary: you engage in a rooftop contemplation session

Notes: short ‘n’ sweet (kind of)

You didn’t join in for Sandy’s funeral, just let the other Guardians do their Guardian rituals in peace. Instead you sat high up on the roof of North’s factory, watching the clear blue sky, the occasional snow flake spiralling down from above. It made you think of Jack. 

You wished you could have done something more. Maybe if you’d choked Pitch harder, gotten up there sooner, he’d still be alive. You should have been faster, wasted less time on the stupid horses and gone straight up to him.

The snow here was thick, like a blanket coating the landscape. “It is,” Jack had said to you when you’d made the comparison once, “it’s a blanket for all the little growing things that are sleeping in winter, and in spring it’ll be gone so they can wake up.” He’d smiled at you, and you thought that it was the loveliest moment you’d ever lived through. Your gut gave a twist at the thought of him, at the image of his face as he’d turned away from you on the rooftop. Love -- or whatever this was -- was not like a drug, it was not like a high. It was like a really really really bad trip. 

Sighing, you rummaged through your pockets, searching for something you could take. Maybe you could do what you always had, replicate the feeling on your own terms. Your hand landed on a packet, and you pulled it out, inspecting it in the light. It looked like the packet of ecstasy you thought Jack had, but you guessed you must have more than one. You didn’t use it very often, so maybe you’d had some left over from the last time.

You tipped one of the small, white pills into your hand, inspecting it carefully. It looked to be around 100mg, shining as brightly as the snow. You wondered what Jack would do if he was sitting next to you, watching you now. He’d probably slap the packet out of your hands, throw it off the nearest glacier. Maybe he’d lecture you about how bad drugs were too. You wouldn’t have minded a lecture right then, wouldn’t mind anything from Jack.

What you’d really like to do was find him, tell him you were sorry you didn’t kiss him back on Jamie’s rooftop, that you didn’t know how it happened but you thought you either may be falling in love with him or already had, and then possibly kiss him. No, definitely kiss him. You weren’t supposed to get tangled up in all this, you weren’t supposed to be thinking about your best friend’s lips on yours, or his hands on your waist, or his chest flush against your own when a Guardian had literally just died and someone who had been closer than a brother to you was wreaking havoc on the world. But here you were, doing exactly that, thoroughly stuck in the kind of mess you had created and observed every day for the last 300 years. It sucked. 

You looked again at the pill, then out at the snowy landscape spread before you. One swallow and all it would be gone, Sandy’s death would be gone, the mess with Jack would be gone.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, and downed the whole thing.

Chapter Ten

#jack frost #jack frost x reader #jack frost x yn #rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert fanfiction #Self Insert #reader insert #fem!reader #multi chapter #work in progress #angst #some angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #angst with fluff #hurt/comfort #teenage romance #friends to lovers #friends to more #amnesia #miscommunication

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Day 2 of Benthan Week 2022 - Villain AU

Takes place after Hook, Line and Sinker which is on my AO3 bearinapotatosack. Mentions blood and general injuries. @benthan-week-2022

Words: 1787

He limped away from the factory and into the night. His feet crunched against the glass. A buzzing feeling ran up his legs. He couldn't feel where he was walking. It was all instinct. 

Every road looked the same as he made his way out of the industrial estate. Occasional trees broke the rows of warehouses and tarmac. 

The warehouses turned into office buildings, identical, and more factories with quiet sounds echoing from the night shift. In the distance, he saw the closed doors of shops and restaurants. Empty benches and cars rolling past, crunching on the cracked roads.

Skyscrapers loomed against the background. The modern world so far off. People sleeping, resting in their own existence. They didn’t have to kill or fight or protect the world with your hands and your head. Didn’t have to limp across a city dripping blood just to get to a safehouse that would be cold and heartless.

He looked around again and saw the warehouses melting away. The shops grew smaller and he found himself hobbling through a suburb. 

It was so peaceful here. He could almost imagine a life of his own here. Almost. Because any normal life for him was impossible. He'd tried that with Julia and the consequences were catastrophic. 

Although the pain was still there. The jealousy over other people getting a chance at a life, when he already knew he was going to die in the field. He'd never get to retire. He couldn't even hold down any hobbies, being shipped from mission to mission didn't leave much for a personal life.

More pain came shooting up his spine. His hand was soaked in blood. Hazy patterns formed in his vision as he realised how much blood he'd lost. 

He stopped as his head started to spin. The scenery had changed again, he was surrounded by newer buildings and cafes. Chairs sat upside down on tables. Lights were off. 

The sounds of the night, the wind, cars on the road in the distance, all faded and clouded. His feet shuffled, stumbled. His knees buckled and before he could stop himself, he'd collapsed on the stone slabbed floor.

The world was so dark at night. Light pollution made it so he couldn't see the stars. It made him miss home, his childhood, in a way he hadn't in years. If he was going to die, he wished he could see the stars.

But as he was squinting at the sky, he missed the echoing footsteps getting closer from the shadows. 

"Well, Mr Hunt, I didn't expect this to be how we first met?" A British voice came from the shadows. 

"What?" 

He tried to look up, but moved his neck too fast and felt a shockwave. A headache was forming. High pitched buzzing settled in his ears.

"I've been observing you for a while, Mr Hunt, but I guess I should be grateful you're alone." He came closer. "You're either surrounded on a mission or on your way to the next one, which is admirable to watch, but not useful for meeting you."

He tried to roll over but his arms wouldn't work. This voice didn't seem to have a body. He knew it did, obviously, but guessed that he had to settle for just listening. Ethan didn't like to settle.

"Who are you?" He wheezed. "And how do you know who I am?"

"Oh, Mr Hunt, I don't think we're really on a first name basis," he said. "And I've already told you, I've been watching you for a while, you really should listen more, your life is quite riveting."

Ethan scoffed. The floor was getting cold. It seeped into him, like how his blood was oozing out.

"That hardly seems fair, you know who I am, and I know absolutely nothing about you."

The voice laughed. It wasn't empty but almost cold. Whoever this was, they were enjoying this. 

A foot, wearing a shiny, brown, real leather shoe, came to press on his shoulder. A small shock of pain thrilled through him again. He groaned and shivered. 

"I think you of all people should know that life is rarely fair."

He pushed his eyes as far up as they could go, craning to see who this was. He was getting embarrassingly desperate. This person was charismatic, yet cold, charming but mysterious and he'd caught Ethan's attention. He couldn't deny that something had been awoken within him.

"But you did catch my eye some time ago, and I've been itching to meet you," he said, his voice getting softer. "And although they say never to meet your heroes, I think you're exactly what I expected."

"What? Bleeding out on the floor?"

He laughed, "Trying his best no matter the cost."

Ethan chuckled as a wave of sickness befell him. He only started to realise now that his fingers and toes were tingling. His eyes wanted to flicker shut but he knew that was dangerous, he may not open them again.

"Tut, tut, Mr Hunt, you really aren't in good condition, are you?" The voice said.

His voice was getting far away. Darkness edged in from his peripheral vision.

He just about heard the voice say, "I'll have to look after you," before some well crafted hands gripped his underarms and he gave way to unconsciousness.

When he awoke, his first thought was of how soft everything felt. The pillow his head lay on. His fingers clutched the duvet, tickled his fingers in their cheap luxury. As his eyes opened, the lights were on low. He appreciated it. Harsh, bright light would make his headache worse.

"I see you're awake." The voice was there too.

"Where are we?" 

His voice was dry. He struggled to remember the last time he drank anything, or ate, or showered, or changed his clothes.

Taking care of himself was a struggle sometimes during missions. Too much adrenaline blocking the vital signs, not enough time to care. It was why he needed people like Luther to shake him after a mission, remind him he's human and take him for something to eat. Although reminding him that he was only human wasn't always a good thing. 

"The Berlin Safehouse, it's quite comfortable here, more comfortable than I expected."

Ethan laughed, "I don't really notice."

He was shrouded in darkness. Shadows took over the space around the bed. It was a coincidentally lucky way to hide himself, although he was sure it wasn't a coincidence.

What surprised him was the pair of hands that emerged from the shadows. They were aged and worn. Skilled from use that made him question what he did for a living. But they were manicured and curated. Carved well and soft as they felt his head.

He wore a flashy watch and had pale white skin that looked tanned under the amber lamplight. His sleeves were rolled up and muscles lined his arms. Not too muscular but enough to hold his own. 

"You don't have a temperature, so it means no infection, I already dressed your wounds." The hands retreated, his heart sank slightly. "You need to eat, drink and take some painkillers."

Ethan shuffled up despite his head getting groggy. He was handed a tray with a simple sandwich, glass of water and some tablets.

He took a ravenous bite. The soft white bread and smooth saltiness from the tuna hit his mouth and made him salivate. God, he'd been hungry.

After swallowing, he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm invested in you."

"Why?"

He took another bite, then gulped down his water with the painkillers. The pain was throbbing dully in the background. He was just glad to be alive, even if his saviour was being oddly mysterious.

"Your life is pretty compelling, I feel like I'm watching an action movie when I watch you."

He choked on another sip of water. The hand came back to pat him on the back.

Once he'd recovered, he stuttered, "Watch me?"

"I haven’t exactly been subtle in my hints that I watch you." The man laughed. "How else did you think I would've heard of you?"

"Could be an agent, my friend, Jane, tells me that I'm a living legend in the statecraft business," he said.

 The man laughed. He laughed like the thought was hilarious.

"Try again."

"You're not an agent? Then how do you-" he stopped himself. "You're rogue, aren't you?"

"Such a dramatic word, we do the same thing, I just refuse to have a morally questionable governmental agency deciding what's right and wrong."

He felt sick. He'd been buddying up with a rogue operative. And although he knew he wasn't like Lane or Walker, he still had the same reaction to someone working for the greater good with no one to keep them in check. 

"I know what's right and wrong, and I know the IMF aren't perfect-"

The man feigned shock, "Not so loud, they might hear you."

"And I, for one, should know that they disavow far too easily," he said. "But I also know they hold you accountable when things go wrong and help you to make a difference."

"Well, despite our difference of opinion, I do have to admire your loyalty, they've fucked you over a multitude of times and yet you're still on their side," he pondered. "I think I would've given up by now, I don't take being betrayed well, it's probably why I work alone."

He heard a shuffle and heard footsteps vacate the bed.

"It must be lonely," Ethan said.

The man didn't reply but he heard more movement. He seemed to be contemplating something, doing something. Maybe he was going to leave? Maybe kill him? He was defenseless enough, lulled into an almost false sense of security. 

But the shadows broke. He got a face to put behind the voice and wasn't disappointed.

A ragged but manicured beard on a pale, slightly aged face. He looked a few years younger than himself, not many but definitely younger. A crisp brown suit, with dark green shirt and brown tie, fit his neck well. He gave him an awkward, yet charming smile that made his crystal blue eyes sparkle. It made the swooping feeling return.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr Hunt, I can look after myself." 

He lent closer, their faces inches apart. His face tingled. Not from pain but excitement. 

"And besides, I think I've made a friend to keep me company."

And he closed the distance, laying a soft kiss on his cheek. Ethan was dumbfounded. Didn't process that he'd kissed him before he'd left the room and left him stroking the faint feeling of where his beard had scratched against his cheek.

Yeah, I wrote these at the end of June, early July in preparation for this, so this is why there has been a break from your regularly scheduled Top Gun fics. I love villain Benji so I had to write something for this prompt. Hope you enjoyed!

#benthan #benji dunn #ethan hunt #mission impossible #benthanweek2022 #benthan week 2022 #villain au #dark benji #villain benji #bad benji #au #bear writes #pre relationship #tw: blood #blood mention #hurt/comfort #first meetings

[mortifiedandawesome]

I wish to God I knew what the hell my sleeping subconscious brain thinks it's up to.

Or what demon slumbering god feels when it projects images of hell In my mind.

The usual weird version of a workplace, twisted and distorted amalgams of different jobs and different coworkers through different times again, that dream is expected although once again a new variety this time involving transporting a single gallon of ice cream that kept melting, gargantuan steel doors, essentially circling a huge building three times as my ice cream melts, and witnessing a freight truck which design alternates from a semi truck to a garbage truck to a regular truck every time I look at it, but to enter a loading dock it essentially has to drive vertically up a wall which absolutely shreds the truck and men have to sort of climb the refuse to shove it into the building? Is it delivering ice cream? I can't actually tell what the substance is inside the vehicle. I don't understand the relevance in my head. I haven't had ice cream in weeks. I haven't worked in a factory in years. I've never worked in an ice cream factory.

And then the dream shifted into me being in a specific town / city which does exist, however the design and shape it was like if somebody made a Tron City out of regular materials. Angular and nonsensical visually with no sight of people until you get into a building.

When I was in a building, it was like a warehouse store with goods on steel girders and eventually you get your section that actually felt like a store. I'm pushing a cart but at the same time I'm carrying boxes, one of those dreams where you're doing different things and it doesn't stay stable.

I specifically bought a scanner (off camera, not during this dream) which is a large white/grey handgun plastic thing with a SD card, it takes a photo as well as scans a code on a purchase. In the dream, you pick the item off of the shelf and scan it and then you put it in your cart? I don't think you have paid for it yet. It is a very acceptable and modern thing to do. I have used it to both scan the items and take photographs of where I am at to remember the time I was at this place.

I reach an area that has more merchandise like you would see in a store and there are other people and this one guy, and I don't think he works there! He has on this fake happy smile that you know is hiding glaring anger. The words are lost to me now that I am awake but he said to the effect 'don't use a scanner use your phone!'

Lo and behold, people were using their phones and not scanners. I don't know what the reasoning was behind him giving a damn what I was using, or what the difference is. I kept trying to put the scanner in my waistband at least when I was around this guy.

I see two celebrities who are just regular guys from podcasts and they are on a PA system doing both a comedy routine and a sales pitch for something. I get the impression that this is a regular event. I am milling about observing them do their antics. This is an intersection that has sort of a fake ceiling, like a fabric tent indoors or something. Like fireworks-sales huge.

One of the items on display is a very large television that looks like an old style console system but in my dream mind I know that it is still a modern TV but I wonder what is inside the box if the screen is flat. There is a sticker on it and I sort of read that it's 86 inches, but it is fairly a square screen with rounded edges. If I measure it while awake in my mind I would say it was about 27 in screen size but the rest of the thing was wooden. There are lamps, various other merchandise for the home. I am still carrying boxes but I don't know what I have purchased or am going to purchase.

At this point I realize I had set the scanner down somewhere and now I don't know where it is. It is now a lost item and I am consoling myself that the pictures that were on the card really we're not important.

Now I am in a vehicle? It is night? I am driving around essentially still in that fictional city version of a real city. I am heavily thinking in my dream, so it is like I am driving around thinking, and not really paying attention to the actual surroundings.

This is the part that annoys me the most, as in my brain, in this alternate world where I have different feelings, I am coming up with different scenarios and plans in which to restart conversations with someone I haven't spoken to in many years irl. And all my dreams and all my life, my dream-brain actually comes up with a plausible plan. It has never come up with a real plan for my real life.

AND IT'S ONE I DEFINITELY DON'T WANT TO DO IN REAL LIFE.

Mainly because it comes from an emotion of forgiveness which I certainly am not about to do. In my dream, I'm excited about the plan because it will definitely work. (IRL it definitely would. The plan is just an ice breaker) as sleep begins to fade more and more of my awake brain chimes in to my sleeping brain, and explains why would you want to do that? Example A example B.. which then slowly wakes myself up and bang! Instant depression.

Ugggh.

#tldr #dreams #mortifiedandawesome #11052022

[ulatorsa]

The DC current generated by the shingles would is then be diverted into a battery

It has been said that the world is experiencing an energy crisis.  And as oil prices go up, so do our electrical bills. One method of addressing this problem is by installing a solar roof over your home.  A solar roof can become your very own home power generator.A solar roof is made out of photovoltaic materials, which replace usual building materials.  For flat roofs, thin-film cells are integrated into flexible polymer roofing membranes.  For pitched roofs, you can use either multiple roof tiles, or solar shingles (which are designed to look just like regular shingles).Not only will you're roof look good, but you'll be saving on your electrical bills as well.  The roof will still shield you from the elements, and it will also and generate electricity when Air Control Valves Factory the sun is up.  

In other words, instead of buying ordinary roof tiles or shingles, you would be buying solar shingles or roofing material, which will serve both purposes.Anyone planning to install a new roof should consider getting solar roof.  This is one investment that can have a long-term impact in your financial situation.Solar roofs are built to last as well.  It has been said that solar roofs can last for up to fifty years.  That's comparable with the most durable building materials around.  The typical installation involves laminating photovoltaic (PV) strips onto the roof pans, before the roofer puts them into place.  The wires would then run in the ridge cap, out of view.If the homeowner prefers to use PV shingles, then the shingles are installed by nailing them to the plywood sheathing of the roof.  The interconnectors are laid in, under the plywood, and the roofers use regular asphalt shingles of the same color to fill in around the edges.  

The DC current generated by the shingles would is then be diverted into a battery bank which can be used around the home.Governments of some countries provide tax or other financial incentives to encourage people to install solar roofs.  Establishments with these installation can sometimes produce enough energy make them independent from other sources of electricity.  Some governments even offer subsidies which help those who wish to have solar shingles or tiles placed on their own buildings.Solar roofs are a great alternative energy source.  They provide 100% clean and renewable energy, and the earth would definitely be a better place to live in if more homes used solar power.

#Control Valves Factory

[schmittmahmood9]

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Save up fire by driving as if you give a Methedrine of urine seated on your splasher. This practice session helps you nullify jackfruit rabbit starts and ready Chicago. Each sentence you accelerate quickly, the railway locomotive of your car uses more fuel than it would if you were to accelerate at a gradual increment in zip. Be very careful when poignant the physical science parts on your gondola. You should non pertain wires unless the total organization is off bump off. You should give attention to the admonitory labels on the different parts of your car; affecting roughly parts keister be life-threatening flush when your elevator car is turned cancelled. Purchase motive embrocate on cut-rate sale and in push aside stores and hold back two or tierce bottles in the luggage compartment of your railway car. Arrest your embrocate every time you fill your natural gas tankful. If you get that your vegetable oil tied is low, you volition relieve mountain of money by having your own inunct on turn over kind of than buying it at a gasoline place for hyperbolic prices. To observe corrode from becoming an issue, lap and wax your auto on a regular basis. Salt and other disadvantageous chemicals will swiftness up the rusting mental process. If you want to stave off rusty at entirely costs, do your scoop to clean house the car exhaustively later on inter-group communication with these substances. Victimisation a wax testament protect the key speculate importantly. When you are in pauperism of an motorcar repair, shop class round to clear sure as shooting that you bugger off the Best business deal. Go to at least III different fixing shops to have a quotation mark. If anyone charges something that is unrealistically low-pitched or high, you should look for person else to do the speculate. Do non score the misapprehension of having mortal cook your vehicle simply because the measure they tear is cheaper than everyone else. Many times the low-down prices micturate up for the miss in tone make. Doing research on the fixture frequent in call into question leave avail you adjudicate if that is the shell Here. Maintain precise records on what forge has been through with on your railroad car and when. Many repair shops bequeath hold back this selective information for you, just that only whole kit and boodle if you get wind them for everything for John R. Major breakdowns to oil colour changes. This ass help oneself in diagnosis problems, as you rump demonstrate what fixes own already been attempted. Curb your tyre press on a regular basis. Tires with a downhearted blackmail are a rattling severe indebtedness. Check up on the pressure sensation in your tires at to the lowest degree at one time a month or anytime you bill a fag seems to be losing air out. Endue in unexampled character tires if you oftentimes get to aline the blackjack in your tires. Although the monger for your car's have Crataegus laevigata furnish the highest expertness when it comes to revivify service, it English hawthorn not always be the well-nigh price effective pick. Regulatory Affairs Outsourcing Market -governing gondola mend shops feature technicians that erst worked at dealerships and are factory trained. You may be able to keep a just total by choosing an fencesitter patronise terminated the dealer, without a deprivation of choice. Require for a undertake when you pose your elevator car repaired. Gain for certain you produce it in piece of writing and that you sympathise what it covers. You English hawthorn likewise wish to give a picayune to a greater extent at a dealership to make grownup jobs done, such as a contagion renovation. This guarantees your process bequeath be covered regardless of where you are. Keep a logarithm that includes data on whatever upkeep that you experience e'er through with on your car. To name things easy, couch this log in your baseball glove compartment loge. If on that point is an proceeds with your car, this data tooshie helper the technician estimate retired what is departure on a good deal more apace. As with anything in life, the more than informed you are around a subject, the ameliorate the issue. That includes automobile repairs. Utilize the noesis gained Here to face machine repairs more than confidently. You don't have got to be at the mercy of any a grease monkey tells you. By sympathy railway car repairs, you'll keep open pregnant money complete your life.

#Regulatory Affairs Outsourcing Market

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

[ckbookish]

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost 

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim. 

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide 

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones. 

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute 

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

or

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call. 

6 Two-face: The Better Choice 

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat? 

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself. 

  8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?” 

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message 

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true.  That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs 

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.   

13 Dad:  Storge 

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily.  The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way. 

 “Your dad must have his hands full with you.”  Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.  

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view.  It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world.  The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield...  Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad.  But he wasn’t. 

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning 

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.   

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing 

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.   

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard.  The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway.  Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter.  He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it.  Wolverhampton.  

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been.  Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.  

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.   

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.   

23 Kidnapped:  Chum 

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing. 

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

#batman bingo 2020 #Master Post #Batman #CK Writes #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #tim drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Red Robin #robin #My Writing

[caramelfuzz]

Sick Ai/zawa

Alright people, take the garbage man with a cold. I really wanted to make it erasermight so we’ve got an awkward All Might trying to take care of his disaster boyfriend.

It’s common knowledge among the UA faculty that Yagi Toshinori’s weakened physical state left him with a variety of vulnerabilities, most of which Aizawa Shouta became even more aware of once he began dating the man. Of these vulnerabilities, the increased susceptibility to sickness is what worries Aizawa the most. If he gets sick it inevitably goes straight to his chest, which causes even more severe respiratory issues. It’s frankly quite worrisome, even if Aizawa still has issues expressing his worry to the fragile man. 

That’s why, the second Aizawa feels a prickle in his throat one night on patrol, he decides it would be best for him to go back to his own place instead of Toshinori’s as they’d planned. 

He decides to forgo sending any form of message so he doesn’t have to lie to his boyfriend, instead opting to curl up in his sleeping bag and pray he’s being paranoid and that he’s not actually coming down with something. 

When he awakens to a completely stuffed nose, a burning throat, and an incessant tickle in both he knows his prayers have gone unanswered. 

He checks his phone, 4 texts and 2 missed calls from Toshi, great. 

After an experimental sniff he finds his nose completely blocked, which won’t do at all. 

Considering his options, Aizawa decides that avoiding Toshinori entirely would be the best plan of action. He would die of guilt if his simple head cold turned into bronchitis or pneumonia for the world’s symbol of peace.

“Hahh… Ih'CH-ISH! 'TSHIEW! Eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He pitches miserably into his hands, wishing for a fleeting moment that he had the luxury of calling in sick. Nezu had requested that, short of the stomach flu, hospitalization, or death, no teacher is to miss class. There is far too much at stake for students to miss a day of learning. With that thought fresh in his mind, Aizawa drags himself out of bed to get ready for work. 

As he walks toward his classroom he sees something flash in the corner of his eye. Crap, he’d recognize that hideous pinstriped suit anywhere. Before he can make any sort of escape, All Might, in all of his muscular glory, is in front of him. He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Aizawa-kun, hello! Did you receive any of my messages last night?”

Aizawa stands frozen, unsure of what to do. If he speaks he’ll give himself away immediately, his voice is wrecked and it hasn’t even been a full day since he felt the cold coming on. He’ll have to find some sort of way out of this conversation that doesn’t involve speaking, breathing, or hurting Toshinori’s feelings. 

Suddenly Midoriya comes bounding around the corner, panting and looking exceedingly concerned. 

“Hey All Might! I, uh, need to talk to you?” 

Toshinori, in his endlessly enthusiastic manner, whips around to face the young hero and bellows,

“What can I do for you, young Midoriya?”

Aizawa takes the opportunity and hurries away from them towards his classroom. He can’t hang out in the teacher’s lounge, not with the danger of his boyfriend going in there at any point during the day. If he were to cough or sneeze in that room he could potentially infect Toshinori if he went in there later. 

He’s in desperate need of tissues, and considering how sore his nose already is, he feels a visit to pilfer some of Recovery Girl’s nice lotion-infused ones is in order.

****************

“What? Aizawa is sick?”

“Yes, and I would advise you to keep your distance or else you could catch it too, Toshinori. He only popped in for tissues earlier and he wouldn’t let me take his temperature but I’m positive that boy had a fever. Stubborn man.” 

While Recovery Girl continues to complain about how stubborn the pro hero is, Toshinori can’t help but worry about his boyfriend. What if he tries to patrol while he’s sick? Recovery Girl said he had a fever earlier, what if he passes out somewhere?

He shakes the thoughts from his head. He realizes Shouta likely won’t allow him to come over and take care of him, but has to do something. Aizawa has already cared for him far too many times during their short relationship and he wants to repay the favor. There is something so intimate about taking care of an ailing partner that Toshinori doesn’t want to miss out on just because of his compromised immune system, so he devises a plan. 

****************

By the end of the day Aizawa is ready to drop. His students can be a handful even when he is healthy, but with a raging head cold and a fever it’s a lot more difficult to deal with them. Not to mention the fact that he’s trying to suppress his symptoms so as not to infect his students on top of everything else. 

“huh'EHSCCHH'uh! Ih'CHISSSH-xt! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He cringes at the unexpected sneezes, they’re getting harder to hold in. He’s walking home, shivering as the wind picks up. It looks like it might rain. 

It does in fact rain, the sky opens up when he’s about 5 minutes from his apartment but he’s too exhausted to muster anything faster than a brisk walk which only shortens his journey by a minute or so. 

When he arrives home all he can do is remove his wet scarf and curl up on the couch, pulling a thin afghan around himself as tightly as he can. He quickly drifts off as exhaustion takes over.

****************

Aizawa jolts from his half-sleep to a timid knock at his door. His first thought is that a villain had somehow found his place of residence, but it’s exceedingly unlikely for a villain to just knock on the door. Come to think of it, it’s exceedingly unlikely for anyone to visit him. Maybe it’s someone else’s door being knocked on. When the knocking persists, however, he clears his throat and tries to call out.

“I-ihh- I’mb cahh-cobigg,”

He rasps, grabbing onto his coffee table for support as he staggers through the living room. He grabs his scarf, it’s still wet but it will have to do, and approaches the door. His hitching breath forces him to detour to the tissue box.

“Godda sdihh-gh’hh! Ugh, sdeeze. Hh’mmph! Gktshhh! H’HCKCH!”

He dissolves into a coughing fit which he muffles into his arm as he approaches the door, not bothering to check who it is, which he immediately regrets when he sees a soaked Toshinori with two flu masks on his face. 

Aizawa’s breath leaves his lungs and he staggers, feeling like he might pass out for a moment from the sheer shock of seeing Toshinori in such a state, why was he out in the cold rain? He can get really sick if he does that! He quickly comes back to his senses and ushers his boyfriend into his apartment, thoughts solely on getting Toshinori warm and dry as quickly as possible. He grabs a towel and begins to dab at his hair and arms, growing frustrated with himself as a sneeze builds within his sinuses and he’s forced to jerk away with a throat-wrenching triple. 

“Hahh… Ih'CHISH! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh!”

He dabs at his nose with his scarf, once again turning his worried and exhausted gaze to the drowned rat he’s dating, only to see him with a mirrored expression. 

“Aizawa? Shouta, I’m fine!” 

Toshinori’s voice is muffled by the masks but still very audible, but his reassurance seems to fall on deaf ears. Aizawa is feverishly gathering an assortment of long sleeved shirts and thick socks and placing them onto the bed before them. Once he’s satisfied with his choices he starts to push his boyfriend toward the bathroom almost frantically. 

“Warmb up, take a shower or sombethigg. You’ve got to be freezigg.” 

“I’m really not,” Toshinori chuckles, pulling up his sleeve. Aizawa squints at his arm through blurry eyes, unsure of what he’s supposed to be looking at. 

Upon closer inspection, it appears Toshinori is wearing thermals beneath his work clothes. It’s smart given how frail he’s become since his injury and Aizawa is relieved for a moment, but then he remembers that he’s a walking germ factory at the moment. He scrambles away from his boyfriend and shields his mouth with his damp scarf.

“Wh-what are you doigg h-hh-here, Toshi?”

“I heard you were sick so I brought things to take care of you. You don’t look so good, Shouta.” 

“Who told you that? I’mb finde.” 

“Then why are you avoiding me like the plague if not to avoid infecting me? I thought our relationship had been going well.”

He looks so sad and Aizawa feels his heart lurch at the knowledge that he is the cause of it, but he has to remind himself that this is ultimately for a good cause. He can’t infect the symbol of peace with his rotten head cold. 

“I’mb finde. Just ndeed sombe space right ndow, that’s all. Could you still put ond sombethigg dry, please? Just ind case?” 

Toshinori complies, selecting a pair of sweats and some socks from the pile and going to change. The moment Aizawa is alone in the room he coughs, keeping his face hidden in his scarf. His chest is much more congested than it was earlier and he’s once again reminded that he has to find a way to make his fragile boyfriend leave before he catches this. 

When Toshinori emerges dressed in clothes just a little too big on him, his resolve almost breaks. His sweet boyfriend looks so cuddly like this and all he wants to do is snuggle up with him in bed and sleep for a year. A wrenching coughing fit forces him to double over into his scarf and he’s pulled out of his fantasy. He can’t do that. 

When the coughing fit doesn’t let up Toshinori moves to pat his back, but Aizawa feels a small burst of panicked desperation course through him and he smacks his hand away with a bit more force than intended. He sees a small tear of hurt in the smaller man’s eyes and immediately regrets his split-second decision.

“I’mb-kff!-I’mb s-so sorry, Yagi-san.”

Toshinori’s heart breaks a little more at the sound of his boyfriend being so formal with him. Is this another tactic to drive him away so he won’t be infected? Or is it something worse? 

He’d never been one to give up easily, though. He’s determined to go out with a bang. If Aizawa does want to break up Toshinori is at least determined to take care of him before he ends things. 

Shouta drops his gaze to the floor guiltily, cold-dulled senses failing to pick up on Toshinori’s silent approach. He jerks when he feels a cool hand being pressed to his brow, looking up in shame at his boyfriend as he tuts gently at the heat. He doesn’t pull away, almost leaning into the cool touch before he stops himself. 

Toshinori takes this as permission to speak freely.

“Now I know you’re worried about infecting me, which is why I'm wearing two masks, but if it will make you feel better you can wear one as well, I brought more.”

Aizawa snatches the offered mask and secures it over his mouth and nose before leaning away from his boyfriend to cough roughly. 

“Are you going to let me take your temperature? I heard you were a bad patient for Recovery Girl earlier,”

Aizawa bites back a groan, so that’s how Toshi found him out. 

He begrudgingly lifts the mask a bit, allowing his boyfriend to slip the device between his parted lips before shoving him toward the sink, aggressively miming hand washing. His boyfriend mimics his gestures in an equally exaggerated fashion, earning a weak chuckle from around the thermometer. 

When it beeps, Aizawa yanks it away from his boyfriend’s reaching hands, shaking his head aggressively. At least Toshi looks amused instead of upset.

“You don’t want me to touch it again?”

Aizawa nods, squinting down at the blurry numbers flashing on the screen, 1… 107? No, that would be fatal. 100? The third number continues to evade him, which just goes to show that he probably has a fever, and he finds frustrated tears filling his eyes. Toshi sees his irritated squint and approaches his boyfriend, gently petting his hair as he peers over his shoulder. 

“102.1, that’s not great, babe. Have you taken any medicine?”

Shouta ducks into his shoulder to stifle a harsh sneeze before shaking his head sheepishly. It’s honestly pathetic how incapable he is at taking care of himself and yet the school continues to entrust him with the lives of impressionable teenagers. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a glass of water being pressed into his hand, but almost immediately after taking the glass the infernal tickle that has plagued him all day rears its head again. 

“Hh’ghh… hah… ihh’hih!”

 Before Toshinori can even process what is happening, Aizawa jerks to the side to sneeze, sloshing chilly water into his lap in the process,

“huh'EHSCCHH'uh! Ih'CHISSSH-xt! 'TSHIEWW! eh’nGXTCH’uh! Sdf! ‘Scuse be.”

He shivers violently and now it’s Toshinori’s turn to worry about keeping his boyfriend warm. He gathers a warm sweater and socks from the pile of clothing Aizawa had accumulated for him and returns to his boyfriend. 

Shouta is desperately hacking into his sleeve when Toshi returns with the clothing and the few parts of his face that aren’t obscured by the mask or his hair are pink with exertion.

When he notices the worried presence looming before him he attempts to straighten up and appear healthy, but his lungs won’t grant him that luxury and he starts to cough again. He finally feels the urge die down along with a gush of phlegm in his mouth. Disgusted, he snatches the clothes from his boyfriend and stalks to the bathroom, ripping the mask off and spitting into the sink. He dons the mask once more to change his clothes, unwilling to breathe any of his germs on anything Toshi could potentially touch. He leaves his clothes in a damp heap on the bathroom floor but keeps his scarf wrapped around his neck. It’s still wet from the rain and causes goosebumps to break out on his skin. He dismisses the feeling with a single shiver and walks back out to his small living room.

Toshinori looks up from where he’s putting on the kettle and frowns, brows furrowing. It makes Shouta self conscious of his appearance. His nose tingles and he scrubs at it from over his mask to force the tickle away, a single hitch leaving his throat. He’s so focused on not sneezing that he doesn’t notice his boyfriend approach, again. 

“Why are you still wearing that scarf? It’s all wet, Shouta. We both know you’d never let me wear something wet if I were sporting a head cold as bad as yours.” 

He scolds softly, settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to him. Aizawa hadn’t realized he was still standing, he must be more out of it than he thought. 

The kettle sings from across the room and Toshinori gently guides Shouta to sit on the couch before going to turn it off. He returns with a mug of tea and a pack of medicine, which he presents to his boyfriend shyly. He’s usually the one being taken care of and it feels oddly intimate to take care of his boyfriend like this. Aizawa just stares at them blankly for a moment, another shiver wracking his thin frame. He takes them eventually and swallows the medicine before listing into Toshinori’s side, exhaustion creeping up his body.

“Sleep, Shouta.”

And he does. 

#aa writes #i have finally gotten over my like three year long writers block apparently #and i'm currently obsessed over the garbage man again #i started this fic probably a year or so ago #the ending is a little rushed #i'm bad at endings tho #sick aizawa #aizawa sneeze #bnha

[joshslater]

Christmas Dream

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Andrew knew right away it was a dream. That in itself was weird. He had read about lucid dreaming, but never experienced it himself. Normally when he dreamt everything made sense, no matter how impossible or out of place the elements of the dream were, until he woke up. While the memory of the dream rapidly disintegrated from his short term memory without bogging down his long term memory, he could recognize the ridiculousness of the fragments of the dream he could grasp before they too slipped through his conscious inspection. But standing in the snow outside an impossible castle, wearing only his pajamas it was clear he was in a dream.

He hadn't attempted any of the tricks given in any of the lucid dreams texts he'd read, but perhaps just knowing about them made them work, eventually. Like learning about the FedEx arrow, if you hadn't noticed it before. Once you see it you can never not see it. He tried to remember any of the practical tips. One was to push a finger through the opposite palm to prove you are in a dream. He held out his arms in front of him and slowly moved his right hand's pointing finger towards his left-hand palm. They connected as you would expect if you were not dreaming. Well, absence of proof isn't proof of absence. Parts of the castle were levitating after all.

He walked closer to the castle, walked through a big archway, and into a large courtyard. Everything looked serious but cute at the same time. Like the castle in Austria or Switzerland or wherever that the Disney Land castle was modeled after. At one point there must have been a hanging or beheading there, but still it had a feeling of being friendly. No angry French gargoyles or winged stone grotesques looking down at you. No drawbridge to keep you out, or in.

But no people. There were fires lit everywhere in those metal basket fire things placed on the cobbled courtyard floor. Everything was dusted with snow, but there were steps and trodden paths all over the place. He stood still to take it all in. There were quite a few large doors leading out from the courtyard, most of them open and with welcoming light flickering from inside. He raised his gaze up the walls and saw row after row of windows, each one with a lit candle inside. Above that were the towers, reaching high above where he stood. Some of them were clearly floating in the air, with bridges leading to them from other towers. It felt like the first level of a game. Was this where got his first weapon and gear?

There was something else also. A noise like a constant sea, or a wind sweeping through the castle. He couldn't feel any breeze, but then he was standing barefoot on snow on cobblestones and didn't feel a thing. There was also.... like a faint pink mist around him, around the entire courtyard. It was thicker closer to the doors, like it was flowing out of the castle, or into it. And smack in the middle of the square was a small hearth with a black cauldron hanging over a lit fire on a tripod, looking suspiciously like Halloween props. He moved closer.

It looked out of place in the large courtyard. Next to the fire stood a little tray with small metal steins. There was a smell of autumn spices and fruit wine as he moved close to the small cauldron and its dark contents. The setup was obvious, mulled wine and mugs, but would he dare Alice in Wonderland the situation? It was his dream, he decided, and picked up one of the steins. It was warm from the nearby fire, but not hot. He dunked it into the cauldron to scoop up some of the liquid. He hesitated again. You are not supposed to smell anything in dreams, are you? Perhaps if you lucid dream you get to do whatever. It was already clear he was dreaming in color.

The hot liquid was sweet, boozy, and well-spiced, but as soon as he'd swallowed his first sip the world began to slow down. To his horror he could see the licks of the flames in the fire move slower and slower, like one of the drugged-up addicts in the Judge Dredd movie. The good one. He put down the mug on the ground, afraid he would spill the hot liquid on himself if he collapsed. He moved as fast as before, but the flames were just getting slower. As he looked up he realized that the pink mist wasn't mist anymore. It was people dressed up in white hemmed red Santa clothes moving around him like flash. DC, not Gordon. But they were all also getting slower and slower. They all looked like they moved with a purpose, and none of them gave him even a glance as far as he could see, though at the speed they were moving he could absolutely miss it.

Although they were of all different ethnicities they all looked remarkably similar. All boys similar in age to him, all of them of similar height, slim, athletic build, cute faces with an overall clean look. This part of the dream he recognized from before. He had struggled with his sexuality, desperately trying to like girls, but somehow he always dreamt about boys before waking up sticky. Always cute, slender boys that were totally out of his league. That's another big reason why he hadn't come out yet. He felt coming out as a pudgy teenager would just bring forth the full brunt of bullying with no upside.

Now he was surrounded by a flurry of handsome boys, all dressed up as small Santas in tight, red pants, loose-fitting white hemmed red jacket, and a red hat with a white, fluffy ball at the tip. Peaking out below the pants were black shoes or boots that looked far more rugged than the rest of the outfit. Amazed he was looking around him at the slowly slowing traffic that he almost jumped of surprise when he found someone pacing right next to him that appeared to be observing him. So he wasn't invisible to them after all. "You can see me?"

"Of course I can," he said in a high pitched voice. "Drink more so we can have this over with." The observer looked like all the other boys rushing past him, lean, pretty, and clad in Santa clothes. In addition he looked bored bordering on annoyed. That did nothing to make him less attractive to Andrew. Fair skin, chiseled features, and tufts of blonde hair was peaking out from under his Santa hat. This was clearly some sort of Christmas fantasy so Andrew decided to call these boys elves. "Ok," he answered, grabbed his half-filled stein from the ground, and drank the rest. Everything around him rapidly came down to normal speed, or something close to it. It still looked like everyone was in a hurry, but their movements didn't look unnatural anymore.

"Come with me, he is ready to receive you," the elf next to him said. "Who is?" "Santa. It's my job to bring you up to speed. Follow me," and he dashed towards one of the open doors without checking Andrew was following him. Andrew was caught off guard and took a moment to start following him, so he had to sprint to catch up. "What about?" "Be quiet unless spoken to. This is a place of efficiency." "What about getting me up to speed?" "I did. You are."

They reached a set of grand stairs. Five people could easily walk next to each other up or down the stairs, and indeed they met several other elves rushing down the stairs and a few passing them running up. The stairs were a consistent marble staircase but the flights looked very different from each other. He could only see doors or hallways around the stairs, but the floors were made of different materials and architecture. Even the ceiling height differed. The first few floors looked like what you would expect from a castle, but then they passed floors looking like modern offices, like concrete factory or warehouses, even one floor appeared to be wood, like a barn or a stable. He wished he had counted properly from the ground floor, because he soon lost track of how many flights they ascended. He was astonished he'd manage without running out of breath.

Finally his guide turned in a different direction, not following the impossibly long stairs up another flight, but instead turned left down a hallway, and then left again into the belly of the building. This floor looked a bit like a castle again. Everything was tall and wide and big, and hefty lit torches lined the walls, sitting in ornate brass holders. Suddenly they came to a stop in front of two massive, white, ornate doors. Andrew's guide turned to him and looked him over. Andrew suddenly felt self-conscious again, having forgotten about himself while taking in the strangeness of the sprint. His hair was damp with sweat, his checkered pajama shirt was stretched around his body, and his jammie pants clearly showed his erection. Andrew thought he could detect a flash of a sneer or smirk in the face of the elf. "Good enough," he said and opened the door for Andrew.

Inside was a grand waiting room with marble floor, high white walls, and several sets of comfortable looking armchairs, and a large desk next to another set of doors. Behind the desk sat another handsome elf who looked up at them as they entered. He had a more tanned skin than the first elf, and black hair. "He'll soon be ready for you," he told them unprompted. "Have a seat." Andrew tentatively moved to one of the armchairs, while his guide just stood there motionless and looked bored. The other elf had returned his focus to a book that he appeared to study carefully. As soon as Andrew sat down in the armchair the elf behind the desk looked up and announced "He will see you now." Andrew's guide elf motioned impatiently towards the inner set of doors. Andrew jumped up, and quickly joined him as he opened the doors.

The room revealed as the doors opened was nothing like what Andrew had imagined. Instead of an impressive office in the style of the waiting room preceding it, the room was styled like the inside of a forest cabin. In fact, looking out the windows it looked like a snowy forest landscape dimly lit by stars. In a corner of the room a fire was crackling, and right next to it was a small desk with a man sitting behind it. Compared to the man the simple wooden desk was hilariously undersized. Although sitting down he could tell the man would rise to a sizeable height standing up. He had black boots on that, unlike what the elves wore, were polished into a reflective pitch surface, reflecting the fire. His red woolen trousers were tucked into the shin high boots. Around his waist Andrew could hint a black belt in the same shiny black leather as the boots, but only because the desk was so small and the belt was massive, 4-6 inches wide. But above that his body was naked.

A massive upper body, while not as defined as a bodybuilder sure had at least as much muscle on it. He was strongman competition ready. Even though he probably looked more muscled hunching forward over the desk, making his shoulder and traps pop into big hunks of ham, there was no denying this man could deck most people. His skin complexion was slightly darker, like Mediterranean, and his body hair most certainly was. He was covered in black hair. Arms, chest, shoulders, all of it. And looking at his face he sported a thick but neatly trimmed, black beard, black eye brows, and black hair, topped with a red and white Santa hat. In this case Andrew was pretty sure it was THE Santa hat.

He looked a bit lost and pushed some papers around until he found a book on his disk. He scratched his chin through the beard while opening it. "Let me see... Let me see... Andrew was it?" his voice boomed in the room. "Yes, Sir!" Andrew responded, quick as he could. While the man acted gentle enough, he didn't look like he would respond well to fools.

"So, what do you wish for?" he said, looking up from the book, haven’t barely looked at the first page. "Eh... The new PlayStation." "That's just something you want, not a wish," the man said, almost with disdain before going back to the book. Andrew felt stupid. Was there a difference between wanting something and wishing something? Should he have wished for an end to all wars and global warming?

The man silently flipped through the book, sometimes going back and reference something from an earlier page. "So you stole a wallet at Walmart in second grade?" Andrew felt a chill and a panic as he was racking his brain for any time he had been at Walmart in second grade. He knew he hadn't stolen any wallet, but was there another wallet incident he could think of? "The wallet I found at the parking lot? I handed that in to a cashier," he answered, still not sure if that was it. The man flicked forward a few pages. "Ah! And then the cashier kept it. I see... I see..."

He then continued to skim forward in the book, occasionally looking up at Andrew. Minutes felt like hours. Andrew didn't even know what this was all about. Was this some sort of sentencing? Was this the actual afterlife? Had he died? Somehow his heart kept racing. "Tell me about miss Sullivan, your neighbor up the street. Why did you mow her lawn?"

"I've done it many times. She talked to mum about it and offered me a job, so I went there sometimes during the summer and mowed her lawn and got $10 for doing it." Words just poured out of Andrew without him even breathing. He was sweating and not sure what the man was after.

"What about last summer?" he asked. "She got ill, not sure what. She didn't want anyone to see her in case it was contagious. But I thought I should just continue as before." "And you got paid to do that?" "No, I'm not even sure she knew I did it." "Did that make you disappointed. Not getting paid?" "No" Andrew knew immediately that that was a lie. "I mean, yeah, I would have liked to be paid. But at least I got a workout." "You work out a lot?" "No. No, I don't." "And yet you'd like to look like you did?"

Damn, he kept making everything look bad. Andrew wanted to shout "Yeah, I wish I looked like the guys on the football team or the basket team or the swim team or any other fucking sports team, but I don't because I'm a loser that isn't good at any of that or good enough in school to not spend all my free time to catch up with everyone else so it's not going to fucking happen!"

"I just don't have time." "Time for miss Sullivan's lawn apparently."

With a loud thud he closed the book, making Andrew jump. He looked straight at Andrew. "I think you need some time as a proper helper." Then he shifted his gaze towards the elf Andrew was surprised to realize was still behind him. "Make it so"

"Yes," the elf responded and ushered Andrew out of the room.

Back in the waiting room the elf behind the desk looked up at them exiting the cabin room. "What's the verdict? Naughty or nice?" he asked. "Helper duty," Andrews guide responded. Andrew felt that things were happening outside of his control that he needed to be more aware of. "Wait. What's happening? Helper duty?" "Don't worry. It'll be fine," the guide elf responded. "Don't say don't worry. Tell me what's going on." "Ok, then. Do worry. You are going to become a helper. Just follow me." and he started to walk out of the waiting room back out into the corridor outside. The receptionist elf had stood up, walked around the desk, and patted Andrew in the back to motion him to start walking. Reluctantly Andrew started to walk, following the first elf. To his surprise the other elf followed him.

All three of them turned down the corridor in the opposite direction of the stairs and walked further into the building. Andrew was thinking about the encounter he just had. Somehow he wasn't sure if it had been a good or a bad one. He clearly wasn't getting any useful answers from his guide. The way they were walking, one in front and one behind, was kind of telling. Like he had just been sentenced and was on his way to receive his punishment. As if there was anywhere he could run. And he was still hard. Big fucking oblivious dick just happy to see everyone. Like a stupid puppy not understanding the situation. But did he?

After some twists and turns they stopped in front of a much more mundane door. One of many they had passed, and there were many more ahead of them in the corridor. The first elf opened the door and they all stepped inside.

This room was reminiscent of a locker room. Well lit, white walls, green plastic floor, a shelf system along one wall with rows after rows with labeled boxes, and in the middle of the room, a knee-high, sturdy bench with something akin to a gym mattress as a top.

No sooner had the door shut behind Andrew before the guide elf jumped him and started kissing him. Andrew's brain just went completely blank at first, not knowing what to do. He'd never kissed a handsome dude before, or any dude, and the kiss with Sophie didn't really count as a kiss really. They were just practicing. A few seconds in he realized he should perhaps do something too and grabbed hold of the elf. He started to actively kiss him back, or tried at least. He wasn't quite sure all the parts of his body were doing what he wanted them to, but holy fuck what was going on? Then he felt the other elf behind him, breathing at his neck. He could feel him kissing his neck while his hands went up inside his T-shirt. He was almost out of air and begun to feel light-headed when the first elf pulled away from their kiss. His vision came into focus again and he looked straight into the steel blue eyes of the boy. He was smiling for the first time Andrew had seen. Crisp white teeth, pinkish lips, and smooth skin. This was as up close as you could get and he was still gorgeous. They were both panting. "I need you... to take off... your clothes," the elf managed.

Andrew was happy to oblige, and the other elf behind him helped him out of his T-shirt. Andrew untied the drawstring on his pajama pants and stepped out of them while the first elf came back from the wall of boxes with some items, the first of which was a pair of grey socks. "Here, put these on." Andrew sat down on the bench and put on the socks, where we was joined by the receptionist elf. He kept rubbing Andrew's shoulders and back, and gave another kiss on his neck as he reached down to put a sock on his second foot. "You've never slept with anyone before, have you?"

Andrew turned to look at him directly. He hadn't really given him a proper look, as the elf had walked behind him all the way. He looked like a Brazilian photo model with tanned skin, hazel eyes, and pitch-black hair. His flimsy Santa jacket was opened and revealed a magazine cover perfect view of pecs and abs, and below that a bulge in his pants straining to be released. Andrew, naked except for the socks, was already showing his willingness with an almost painfully erect penis. "No..." It was like Andrew's brain was shortcircuiting next to this beautiful boy and couldn't come up with proper sentences.

The elf guided him to a bridge position. "Here, roll over." He kissed his way down Andrew's spine down to his butt. Then he dabbed his finger in Andrew's precum and started to slowly massage Andrew's butt hole. Then gently going in and out, then using two fingers, then three. Andrew thought he would explode with cum right then and there, but somehow that didn't happen. He kept his eyes closed and thought of the handsome boy behind him that was loosening his asshole.

When he opened his eyes he saw something sliding in below him. The other elf, the blonde guide elf was on his back in front of him on the bench, completely naked. Andrew was staring down at the elf’s balls and erect dick just below his face. He looked up over the body, the same perfect abs and pecs as the other elf, and all the way up to his handsome, chiseled face. He saw that the Santa hat was still on, so not completely naked after all. He looked down at the dick on offer in front of him again. He realized he was salivating. Tentatively he lowered himself and began to lick the tip of the penis a few times. Then he did a quick attempt at putting it in his mouth. Then he started to suck it in earnest. At the same time he could feel the reception elf entering his butt.

Andrew tried to keep the same pace with his sucking as with the penis going in and out of his butt. That way he felt like he could just zone out into bliss and not think of anything but pleasure. When he eventually did orgasm all three came at the same time. Andrew wasn’t prepared for any cum, and more as a panic reflex swallowed everything that got pumped into his mouth, just as he came on the bench and the second elf in his ass.

"Now these." Andrew realized he had been standing there on all four, frozen just trying to process what had just happened. "What?"

"Put these on," the but for his hat naked elf repeated, holding out a pair of red trousers of the same kind as they wore. As he put his feet down from the bench Andrew realized his legs looked different. Then he realized that his upper body looked different too. It was the same lean abs and pecs as all the other elves. Almost dazed he took the trousers, stepped into them, and slid them up his legs. Were his dick and balls any different than before? Perhaps. Hard to tell.

"These should be your size now," the other elf said, and placed a pair of black boots in front of him. Sturdy, no-nonsense, military style black leather boots. "I..." Andrew began, but couldn't really verbalize what he felt. There were a faint trail of hair from his pubs to his belly button, flanked by the most pronounced V he had ever seen in real life. It was one thing to see the bodies of all the elves, but on himself was another thing all together. He pushed one then two feet into the boots, tied them, and let the trousers hide them.

"Almost done. Just these two left," the guide elf said, handing him a jacket and a hat. Andrew grabbed both and quickly put them on. "Now what?"

"Now you look like a helper. Always were one."

The room is black save for the faint blue light from the alarm clock on the nightstand. Andrew stared into the black ceiling wide awake. He glances over at the clock. 05:16. A bit too early to run downstairs and check the Christmas stocking. He's supposed to be almost grown up after all. What a weird dream. Hot, but weird. He sticks his hand down the pajama pants. Sticky, but not bad enough to not sleep a few hours more. As he turns to the side he feels the boots on his feet.

[just-horrible-things]

Story: Mina and Marten [First | Prev | Next]

---

Phone Call

"Mum!" Mina exclaims, making her voice just sunny with cheer. "Fancy hearing from you! What a nice surprise." "Yasmine, we need to talk." Well duh, thinks Mina, it's not like you'd call me just to catch up. "What would you like to talk about, Mummy dearest? I could tell you how my day is going, or you could ask about my love life, or--" "You know what," Mum interrupts. Mina sighs dramatically. "I'm sorry," she says, "I can only read minds over video call." "The boy." "You mean Marten? He has a name, Mum, although I suppose that would be a lot to ask since you can't even remember mine. I thought you didn't watch my 'brainless non-content'?" "Your Aunt Kate told me what 's going on."

"Oh, of course!" Mina giggles, high-pitched, aware of how the phone line will mangle the sound. "Auntie Katie hasn't talked to me in donkey's years so I'm sure she understands all the details of my life." "I've watched the videos. You have a human being, wearing a collar, living in your apartment and sleeping in a dog bed for Christ's sake."

Marten likes his bed, he said so. He said it's comfy. It's what the promotional videos show, it's what you're meant to do for a Boxie. Some YouTubers keep theirs in cages. What's she meant to do, have him sleep in her bed?

What she says is, "Everyone's doing it, Mum. Didn't you want me to make money? This is where the money is. Viewers just love Boxies!" "Stop using that tone with me, Yasmine. Just talk like a normal person." "That tone, Mummy? This is just what my voice is like! Maybe there's something wrong with the phone line, hold on a second." She blows into the microphone sharply.

Mum sighs dramatically. "Oh forget it. Don't you understand what you're doing?" "Boxies are perfectly legal, Mum. He signed a contract, I've seen it with my own eyes." "It's a thin veil over slavery! The corporations won't get away with it for long. The courts will come down hard on it, and then where will you be? Think about your reputation! You'll never get a real job if--" "I have a real job, Mum." "Legal or not, it's completely unethical. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter!" Another too loud giggle. "Oh I'm sorry Mummy, whatever will I do without your support? How about continue how I have been for the last ten years! Goodness, I don't know if I'll cope."

"He's a human being, Yasmine!" "I know that!" Mina snaps. "I never asked for this! Did you actually watch anything or did you look at a thumbnail and decide that you know everything? I didn't want some... stranger, living in my room! I didn't want a human pet! Someone else sent him to me!"

There is a silence. Mina sniffles, and fakes a little sob. Mum hates it when she cries.

"Well," Mum says at last, sounding affronted. "Can't you send him back?" "What a great idea," Mina sighs. "I sure wish I'd thought of that." "You could you just... set him loose. Doesn't he deserve to be free?" Mina is absolutely sure that Mum has not watched any of the footage. Probably she just looked at the video titles. She tries to imagine Marten on his own. Where would he sleep? What would he eat? He had a panic attack when he tried to ride the elevator down two floors to the laundry room for goodness' sake.

"Boxies have to be supervised, Mum. He'd be breaking his contract, he'd get into trouble! Do you need me to Google the rules for you? I could copy it out in nice small words if you'd like that." "Well you can't keep him. He's a human being!" "Mummy dearest," Mina's voice is cracking with emotion and she leans into it, overacting. "I am an independent adult, and I make my own choices. You ran out of excuses to control my life years ago! If you wanted a say, maybe you should have been nicer to me while I still cared!" "Oh Yasmine, do stop going on. It has nothing to do with our relationship. This is much more important." "I'm not even important to you?" "This is a person's life." "I know that, Mummy dearest! What do you even want me to do?" Mum hesitates. Mina pounces on the opening. "I know, I'll just send him back to the factory he came from, I'm sure the corporations will take much better care of him than I can, won't that be just fantastic?" "Why can't you ever discuss anything like an adult?" "I can! I just choose not to when it's you!"

She hears her mother start on another barb as she takes the phone from her ear. Her nagging voice cuts off as Mina ends the call.

Sniffling, she pulls a kleenex from the box and dabs delicately at her tears. It comes away black with makeup, and she wonders how badly she is smudged. Oh well. It's not like Marten cares.

Marten.

"Oh sugar."

Marten sits in his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and over hands he has clamped over his mouth. He is shaking with silent sobs, staring horrified at Mina as if she might be about to murder him.

"Oh no, Marten!" Mina is mortified. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm not mad at you, no one's mad at you. Marten, sweetheart, I was just on the phone to my mum, don't be upset!" She crouches beside him, worried, but he doesn't move. "Honey, you're not in trouble, what's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie, talk to me?" “Don’t send me back!” he gasps, voice half-smothered with terror. “Please, please don’t -- don’t send me back!” "Okay! Okay, I won't! Don't panic, sweetheart!"

Without his hands holding them back, the sobs tumble out of Marten uncontrolled. Great ugly, breathy gasps of panic and despair. “I’m not sending you back,” Mina assures him frantically. Should she hug him? Give him space? "Oh honey, I was just saying that to my mum to make her go away, I would never! Don't be scared. You're so well-behaved, and so good for the cameras, and the viewers love you, why would I send you back?" ”I... I’m good?” “You’re very, very good. Poor sweetheart, how can I help you, I didn’t mean to upset you!” “Could, um, could you h-hold me?” Marten snivels pitifully. “Of course sweetie, of course I can. Come here.”

Marten practically throws himself into Mina's arms, knocking her back on her butt. She shuffles backwards to the closest beanbag, pulling him along with her, and gathers him into her lap. He clings to her clothes and sobs into her shoulder while she puts her arms around him and awkwardly pats his back.

"Shh, shh," she soothes, “There there, poor darling. It’s okay. It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared.” “Please don’t send me back,” he begs again, “I’ll be better, I’ll be anything you want, don’t send me ba-ack…” “It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I’m not sending you back. If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to.” “Do… do you promise?” “I promise. If you don't want to, you don’t ever have to go back.” “Thank you,” Marten sobs, “Thank you, Mina.”

But he doesn’t stop crying.

“There you go,” Mina assures him, rocking him gently. “Poor thing. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry, just let it all out. I’m so sorry I scared you.” She thought he was crying hard before, but when she gives him permission he wails like a lost child.

And he doesn’t stop.

She holds him. She pets his hair and apologises. She rocks him and murmurs comfort words and he cries on and on and on, clinging tightly and bawling his eyes out.

Eventually, worried and a little exasperated, she pulls her head back far enough to see his face and asks “Honey, why are you crying?” He sniffles, and tries to stop sobbing long enough to answer. “I just want to be good,” he blubbers miserably. “I only want to be good for you, that’s what I’m for, I don’t know what to do.” “You are good, sweetie. You’ve never done anything bad at all.” He hides his face in her top and cries harder. “But,” he whimpers, “but you don’t want me…” “Oh, honey, no.” Mina feels awful. “Honey no, I didn't mean that, I was only talking to my mum...”

“I just want to be good.” The words seem to be spilling out of Marten now. “And good Boxies are, are wanted, they get bought and they go to nice homes with nice owners and, and they have happy lives fulfilling their owner’s desires and, and I thought I was good, I only want to make you happy, Mina, but I, I thought you wanted me and, and you don’t…” “Of course I want you, Marten, of course I do. I didn’t mean it like that, I, erm…”

“But you didn't even choose me,” Marten says softly. “You didn’t want a - a pet...” “I didn’t know that I wanted you,” Mina tells him. “That’s what I should have said. I didn’t know I wanted you. But Marten, you were a great surprise. It’s me who should be sorry. I’m not a very good owner. I don’t know how to keep you happy, and I don’t have a nice house or anything…” “You’re the best owner,” Marten blurts out with surprising vehemence. He starts crying again. “You’re so good to me and, and you’re kind, and pretty, and I love you, Mina. I just want to make you happy.” “You do make me happy, sweetie. You do.”

Mina has to hold him a good while longer, but he does start to calm down slowly. She stares solemnly at her posters on the wall, not really seeing them, as she murmurs reassurances on autopilot. Are these the right things to say? This is... such a huge responsibility. She wasn't ready for a cat, let alone a whole entire human being. He needs so much affection, all the time.

Mina is not cut out for this.

Eventually he stops crying. Mina waits another ten minutes before she tries to talk to him.

“Would it really be so very bad," she asks carefully, "going back to the company?” Marten stiffens instantly, hands tightening in her clothes. “Don’t worry!” she hurries to tell him, “I’m not gonna send you back! Not unless you want to go. I'm just asking, because I want to understand... why you’re so scared?” Marten is quiet. "You don't have to talk about it," Mina backtracks. "That's okay, I was just curious, don't worry about it. “If the owner sends a product back," Marten's voice is wobbly, "it needs to be refurbished. I… I don’t want to be refurbished…” “But you could have a better owner. A rich one, who can give you the luxury and stuff you signed up for. A big, tidy house. An owner who knows what they're doing...” “I don’t want anyone else,” he sniffles. “I want you.”

He’s starting to cry again. Mina sighs. “That’s okay then. You’ll stay here, and no one’s gonna send you back. Nothing to worry about. It’ll just be you and me.” She brushes the hair carefully away from his damp and sticky face. “And hey. If you keep bringing in the views, maybe some day we’ll have a nice house too.”

“I’m sorry I’m not better,” Marten tells her sadly. “I wish I was a smart Boxie so I could help you out and stuff…” “Oh sweetie. Shall I tell you a secret?” Mina smiles sadly. “I’m not very smart either. But it’s okay! You don’t have to be smart to do well on YouTube. You just have to look pretty. And we’re both pretty good at that!”

[Next]

#my writing #my ocs #mina and marten #mina #marten #box boys #slavery tw #modern slavery tw #human trafficking tw #youtuber whump #pet whump #reluctant caretaker #dehumanisation tw #animalisation tw #(mild) #collar tw